Title: Underdog - Chapter 4

Author: StuckHereWithNoTV

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Going home isn't always easy.

Disclaimer: Jake 2.0 and all related elements, characters and indicia copyright Roundtable Entertainment and Viacom Productions, Inc., 2003. All Rights Reserved. All characters and situations-save those created by the authors for use solely on this website-are copyright Roundtable Entertainment and Viacom Productions, Inc.

An hour had passed with Diane still refusing to talk to Jake on the basis that she "wasn't good at multitasking." Although Jake knew that was a lame excuse, he decided it was best not to verbally point out that she had often conducted both his examinations and report write-ups at the same time, all the while still effortlessly conversing with Fran on the latest office gossip. To make matters worse, the DJ came on the loudspeaker at one point, announcing that the school's old water heater had burst and that it would take at least half an hour to get the gym's room temperature back to normal.

Jake loosened his tie and undid the top few buttons of his shirt, a thin film of sweat coating his brow. Unable to handle the heat and Diane ignoring him any longer, he curtly left the table and went outside into the foyer. He then slowly circled the empty hall while letting his head roll back, enjoying the ten degrees cooler atmosphere.

Taking in the long line of green and white sports pennants pinned high up on the walls, Jake once again perused the pictures and display cases that had been especially brought out for the reunion invitees. He chuckled as he passed frame after frame of students who dressed and had hair like they came straight out of some Doogie Houser, MD rerun. Jake carried on with viewing the memorabilia, but came to a sudden halt when he reached the sports section.

Hung on the wall behind a few two feet high trophies was an old newspaper article regaling the events of a regional track meet. Jake skipped a few column inches down until he reached the results of one of the races and hit someone with the name of Brad Deveraux. Wondering if this was the same person in the gym, Jake searched through the other track pictures to match the name with a face and, sure enough, it was the same guy Diane had been talking to tonight. In fact, as Jake inspected the group photo more carefully, he noticed that the picture held one more detail that made his eyes grow wide.

At the far right behind a group of jeering teenagers was a tall and lanky fellow in a track uniform which the caption marked to be Brad. But beside him with his arm around her was a girl that, even without the presence of a caption, Jake recognized to be Diane. Her innocent and blissfully cheerful smile shined back at him, making Jake turn away.

Diane had looked really happy. They had both looked really happy. Letting his thoughts roam, he wondered how deep their relationship once was-- or still is. In an instant, Jake felt like a third wheel; he knew he was probably overreacting about nothing -- it's not like they looked particularly cozy together a while ago and it's not like he even had the right to overreact -- but still... Jake shook his head, heading towards the men's restroom to see if he could wash away the emotional mess he was experiencing. With dried sweat sticking to his forehead and adding to his overall misery, he was relieved to find the tiled room empty.

Jake splashed cold water upon his face and was temporarily blinded by the beads of water as it dripped back down to the sink. Wiping the water away from his eyes, he heard the faucet beside him being turned on. Jake glanced up at the wall mirror and then snapped his head towards the person next to him. "Hi," he blurted out.

Startled, Brad looked at Jake and then around at the empty room. "Hi..." he echoed, his speech mildly slurred. "How're you doing?"

Jake grudgingly evaluated the man who had caused a damper on his evening. No longer the extremely lanky teen he used to be, Brad attractively filled out a dark suit with a flippant expression on his face, displaying small laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. "I'm fine. You?" Jake asked stiffly.

"Not bad. Had to get out of the gym, though. It's getting almost as hot as Texas in there." Brad lifted a bottle of beer beside him on the counter and took a short swig. "Have you tried these? They're made in Bar Harbor, you know."

"Yeah, I assumed so since it has 'Bar Harbor' printed on it."

Brad closely inspected the large print label with a grin. "So it does. I suppose I should've known that since my father used to be a main investor in the brewery. You like them?"

Jake observed with distaste the beverage that he had previously held in high esteem only an hour ago. "Yeah, they're very good," he lied.

Brad made a "cheers" motion with the bottle and took another drink. "You didn't go to school here, did you? I don't remember seeing you around..."

"No, I'm just here with someone that did."

"Ah," Brad uttered, shaking his head sympathetically. "Got dragged over here by the missus, hmm? If I were you guys, I would've just skipped this torture of a reunion altogether."

Jake folded his arms, quickly becoming interested. "You think this is a waste of time?"

"Yeah, basically."

"So why did you come?"

"Oh, the usual lines: remember the good old days, meet up with friends, excuse to come back home..." Brad's face twisted into a semi-sober look that defied his present physical condition. "But really, I'm here to see if I can patch up old mistakes."

"Old mistakes?"

"Old girlfriend," Brad clarified.

Jake drummed his fingers against his biceps. He knew he really shouldn't be sticking his nose in Diane's personal business any more than he already had, but this opportunity was proving too hard to resist. "So did you? Meet up with your old girlfriend, I mean."

"Yup. She threatened to rip me a new one, can you believe that?"

"Unbelievable." Jake's lip curled up smugly until he realized that Diane would probably make the same threat to him if she ever became aware of what he was doing right now.

"Yeah." Brad snorted, not picking up the sarcasm in Jake's tone. "And get a load of this: she's 'here with someone.'"

"You're kidding."

Crossing his arms, Brad copied Jake's stance of leaning against the counter. "Uh-uh, some lucky bastard beat me to the punch. You'd think five years would mean something but--" he swallowed back a hiccup.

"Five years?"

"From junior year of high school to junior year of college; the longest relationship I've ever had in my life, now that I think about it." Clasping a hand on Jake's shoulder, Brad stared at the towel dispenser. "Man, those were the days. I mean, she was one of those shy, brainy girls, but once you got her out of her shell..." He laughed, causing Jake to scrunch his nose from the beer-infused fumes. "Like there was this one time in college... It was late at night and she was studying herself asleep as usual, but somehow I was able to talk her into coming with me to a tattoo and piercing parlor. I swear, I thought she was going to kill me the next day when she started freaking out about her new foot tattoo and nose piercing, but whadya know, for the next few months she had that stud in there and wore nothing but sandals."

"So what happened between you guys?"

"I... did a few things I probably shouldn't have."

When Brad didn't elaborate, Jake thought carefully about what had been said. "But you cared a lot about each other?"

"Yeah. Yeah, we really did. And I still do. She's pretty and smart and funny... We might be different in a lot of ways but--" Brad hoisted his bottle in another toast. "She's like the jelly to my peanut butter, the alcohol to my... alcohol."

Forcing a nod, Jake didn't know how much more he could stand of Brad's rambling trip down memory lane and decided it would be best for him to leave. "So that's why you came," he stated, breaking from Brad's vise-like grip and walking forward.

"Yup. That and my business venture failed."

"What?" Jake backtracked from the door to his original place.

"My tech company went under three months ago. Really bad. So, I figure I'm in need of some emotional and financial stability, and you can't get any more stable than Diane. Although, she often gets kinda--" He flapped his hands in a panicky manner.

The mention of Diane's name dispelled any doubts Jake might have had. "You want to use her as a source for money?" he demanded, muscles tensing.

"What?! No!" Brad said, insulted. "I'm not saying that money wouldn't hurt, but no, I came here because I missed her and I wanted to see how she's doing. Maybe pick up where things left off... have a little fun."

"Fun," Jake repeated with a dangerous edge. "How so?"

Brad chuckled slyly, elbowing Jake. "I wouldn't be a gentleman if I said how, but you remember me saying that 'once you got her out of her shell...?' Well, believe me, once you do... Damn, that girl knows how to have fun, if you know what I mean."

Be it out of shock at Brad's audacity or just pure jealousy, Jake's nanites automatically charged every muscle and sensory nerve into overdrive. The pulsating throb of blood gushing from his chest outwards to his arms and head severely raised his temperature, echoing the growing power of adrenalin raging in his veins. "Yeah," Jake gritted.

Unaware of the thin line he was treading, Brad presented a toothy smile to his new friend and extended a hand. "I didn't catch your name. Brad Deveraux," he introduced.

Jake clasped his hand in his, squeezing enthusiastically. "Lucky Bastard."

Brad laughed and then grimaced, his smirk wiped away with the bone-crunching pressure being applied to his grip. "What the-- You almost broke my hand!" he charged, ripping from Jake's handshake. Brad wiggled his fingers, testing to see if they were still in working order. "Hmm, so you're the 'someone.' It's nice to know Diane hasn't changed; still goes for skinny guys, I see."

Jake balled up his fists at being labeled 'skinny.' He was getting really sick of all the physical stature wisecracks he'd gotten since becoming an agent and this was the last straw. "You're a lousy drunk," he said, deciding to choose the high road and walk away from the situation.

"Hey, you're probably just a friend, right? Tell me, how many guys did she ask to come with her before she finally got to you?" Brad sneered in delight when Jake discontinued his retreat to the door. "Or did it happen some other way...? I really didn't have to explain the 'fun' thing after all, did I?"

It was only after a sharp pain shooting up his arm and Brad's body slumping to the ground, did Jake register that his fist had cut through the air, striking Brad square in the jaw. With a regretful sigh -- well, not that regretful -- he knelt to make sure the unconscious Brad wasn't hurt too badly. Jake concluded that the large purple bruise and cut lip didn't deserve medical attention, considering Brad's jaw alone almost shattered a few of Jake's bones.

Cursing why every person he's hit so far had to have thick skulls, Jake reached for the extra roll of paper towels on the counter and was about to leave when he suddenly bumped into another man. The stranger slowly took in the whole scene before looking at Jake quizzically.

"Knocked himself out on one too many microbrews," he explained before swinging out the door.

Jake went back into the gym where the temperature had dropped to normal and the party was still upbeat. Debating on whether to speak up about his encounter or not, he returned to the table, gently touching Diane on the shoulder. "Hey, I--"

"Are you okay?" Diane asked, slipping worried glances between him and the JMD she hid in her purse. "I didn't notice you had left. I was just about to go searching for you because your adrenalin a-and blood pressure levels-- Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine. Really." Jake sat down, allowing her to take a hold of his wrist. Satisfied with the rate of his pulse, she released her grasp, accidentally bumping his knuckles down on the table. Jake whimpered, inhaling a loud hiss of air at the moment of impact.

Diane retook possession of his hand and held it close to her face, straining under the dim lighting to uncover any injury. "What happened to your hand?" she asked, her breath tickling the small hairs below his knuckles.

Jake's fingers curled in the cradle of her palms as she lightly grazed the spot where his fist and Brad's jaw had made contact. He wasn't too thrilled about the prospect of having Diane mad at him again. "Uh... nothing. Banged it on a trashcan. It'll be fine in a few minutes." Changing the subject, Jake set the roll of paper towels in front of her. "I, um, got you this since I figured your pile of writing surfaces were probably dwindling."

She smiled guiltily, accepting the gift. "Thanks."

Jake shook his head. "I'm sorry I acted like an idiot. It's my fault. I shouldn't have--"

"No, it's not all your fault," she dismissed, tapping his hand. Jake winced which caused her to flinch in response. "Sorry."

"It's okay."

Diane heaved a heavy sigh and shut her eyes. "Jake, it wasn't you overhearing that I was really mad at. It was me. I did a couple stupid and naive things when I was younger, Brad being one of them. I guess I..." She let go of his hand and shrank into herself, feeling foolish. "I guess during this whole weekend I got caught up in trying to prove something to the past. I don't know what exactly. Maybe that I'm better than I was back then, or that I'm not naive anymore to believe in 'marrying your high school sweetheart' or romantic stuff like that... I dunno. I don't know how to explain it."

"You don't have to explain," he assured, "and I don't think you need to prove anything to anyone, Diane."

"I know, but... It's just that it still kinda hurts when I think about Brad and..." She drifted away for a few seconds before pulling up her shoulders. "Anyways, that was a long time ago, right? I should just get over it and move on."

He frowned at her unconvincing attempt to rationalize things. Jake actually considered for a moment on whether he should excuse himself and go give Brad a second, delicious taste of The Joy of Pummeling, but ultimately concluded that coming back to the table with two sore fists might make Diane suspicious. "So how's the speech coming?" he prodded, steering her towards a less emotionally painful topic.

Her lips tightened wryly as she motioned to the small, formidable Napkin Ball Mountain. "Yeah, I think those paper towels will come in handy. It'll be a nice variation in texture."

Jake's eyebrows scrunched together, so much for steering towards a less emotionally painful topic, he thought. "When do you go up?"

"Oh--" She stole a glance at his watch. "In about an hour and a half, like at the very end. I suppose I should be thankful; by then everybody will either have already left or are so wasted that they'd give me a five minute standing ovation if I just stood up there and whistled the beginning of the 'William Tell Overture.'"

"You know, I'd probably give you a standing ovation, too. There're some really fast and tricky parts in there."

Diane rolled her eyes with a smirk. "You know what I mean." After witnessing him return her smile, she suggested, "I can drop you off at the house, if you want. There's really not much to do here and with our flight tomorrow... I don't want you to have to sit for another hour watching me write-- Well, write and then mutter obscene words as I crumple them up and add it to my modern art sculpture over there."

Jake chuckled and then tapped the tabletop. "No, I'm staying right here. I came to support you and that's what I'm going to do."

She regarded him thoughtfully for a moment. "Thanks, Jake. And... you already have. Supported me, I mean. More than I could've asked for."

He swallowed the strange lump that had formed in his throat. "Just trying to do what you've always done for me," Jake said simply.

Diane shrugged, shyly averting her eyes from his. Clearing her throat, she glanced towards the crowd that was loitering at the center of the gym, waiting for the DJ to queue up the next song. "You know what? Screw this."

"What?"

"This," she said, fluttering a hand at the pen and napkins in front of her. "I've been driving myself insane with this speech for no reason. Nobody here, especially me, is actually excited about hearing me speak. And it's not like I have to prove anything to anyone, right?"

He smiled at her repetition of his words. "That's right."

"So, let's get out of here," she decided, getting up to discard the napkins a few at a time.

Jake stood from his seat, exchanging a rueful glance with Diane when the room began to reverberate with slow, heavy electric guitar riffs and Bryan Adam's voice in all its whining glory.

"Are you ready?" Diane questioned, gathering the last load bound for the recycling bin.

Jake mused over the couples that swayed on the dance floor. "You know, although the spiked punch you had promised was a letdown, we kind of nailed the moping at the table part. I figure since we're two out of three, would you like to...?"

She followed his pointed glance to the people slow dancing in the middle of the room and then flicked her gaze back to him. "No, not really," she bluntly said.

"Oh," he goggled, slightly disappointed. "Okay."

Diane swiped her purse off the table, the side of her mouth curling upwards. "I have something a little more fun in mind."

His voice went up an octave. "Fun?"

"Yeah, come on."

Jake choked when she roughly took his arm, nearly dragging him to the exit. "You didn't happen to have any of those beers while I was gone, did you?"

Somehow managing a giggle that was bashful yet mischievous at the same time, Diane declared, "No, Jake, I'm completely sober. Now let's go before I lose my nerve."

He began to wonder what in the world she was suggesting they do, but ceased thinking about it before it made him too-- 'excited' was, unfortunately, the first word that popped into his mind. While Jake berated himself to get a grip, Diane led them out the double doors, the drifts of early 90s music and old memories fleeting away with each step they took.

The open air had sent goose bumps rising to the surface of his bare arms for the last hour. Almost in a begging tone, Jake sighed, "Aw, c'mon Diane, stop fooling around."

"I'm not the one who's fooling around."

"Just let me try again. I know I can do better this time. It takes me a while to get warmed up, but I think I've got it under control now."

"You call that control? I'm surprised you haven't hurt anybody with that thing yet."

"Pffth. It wasn't that bad..." Jake sputtered, brushing off her criticism. Seeing her expression turn skeptical, he started to panic. "Was it?"

"Mmm..." Diane hesitated, searching for the right words. "If you call taking ten minutes just to get it in as being 'bad,' then... I think maybe there might be more than just a little room for improvement... Like a lot of room."

Jake's shoulders slumped considerably. "Why are you looking at my balls?" he asked, perplexed.

"I'm just making sure that everything is okay with them, because in all seriousness, taking that much time is not normal."

Jake groaned at the emotional damage he was convinced she was doing to his ego. "So I take a little longer than other people, can you blame me? I mean, I feel like I'm under pressure to perform well. Pressure mostly put on by you."

"Me?!" Diane laughed. "Don't pin this on me. I didn't do anything but say encouraging things to you the whole time."

"Well, then maybe it's the friction between--"

"I'm an expert, Jake," she said, interrupting him. "I've been dealing with this stuff for years. It's not the friction."

He threw his hands up in a huff. "Okay, fine! I admit I need a lot of work on my technique. Now will you please stop examining those so I can try again?"

Diane innocently handed him the wire basket of white golf balls, struggling to keep from saying another teasing retort. He scowled at her as he set it on the ground next to him. Grumbling under his breath, Jake reached into the basket and placed one of the balls on the tee of the eleventh hole. He then stood, surveying the square block obstacles and rotating windmill that were positioned a few feet away. Under the stress of Diane's gaze and the shining, stadium lights of Lucky Pete's Putt Putt Park, he repeatedly adjusted his golfing stance.

"Don't you think you should hit that ball pretty soon?" Diane chided.

Jake straightened and stuck his golf club under his arm. "Yes, I will. I just have to get into the right mind set before I can make the perfect shot."

She folded her arms, amused, as he did a few exaggerated breathing exercises and pseudo Tai Chi moves with his hands. Making sure his shirtsleeves were securely rolled up, he retook his golfing stance, focused on the ball, and took a swing.

The successful, dull thwack of metal striking hard plastic made Jake smirk to himself, convinced that he'd finally gotten the hang of this golf thing. His moment of victory, however, was cut short when out of his peripheral vision, he saw a white blur cut through the air and ricochet off the rotating windmill.

"Whoa!" Diane yelped, stepping back just in time for the golf ball to speed past her face. Both she and Jake whipped their heads around to see the small sphere continue its flight until, at last, slamming itself into a cardboard cutout of Lucky Pete the Leprechaun.

Jake let out a weak chuckle. "Um, guess I might've put too much Tai in that Chi."

"Yeah..." she trailed off, gulping at the golf ball that was now embedded in the smiling leprechaun's eye. Diane turned to Jake, appalled. "'Control,' huh?"

Extremely thankful that they were the only people in the entire mini golf park, he self-consciously poked the green Astro-Turf with his club a couple of times. "This is your idea of 'fun'? Couldn't we have done something that I'm good at, like basketball?" He heard Diane start to snigger. "Hey, so I wasn't that great playing against Steve at the carnival, but if you had seen me with Malik... I'm telling you, I kicked ass against those college brats."

"Mm-hmm. Sure."

He rolled his eyes. "It's mini golf for godsakes. I wouldn't have even pictured you as a golf person."

"Believe me, I'm not," she said, shooing him from the tee area. "But when you're from Bar Harbor and the majority of the population is over forty with most of them being golf enthusiasts, you can't help but pick up a little bit of the sport. It's like a guilty pleasure... or, at least, some viral infection that you can't runaway from."

Jake observed Diane as she slipped off her high heels and positioned herself next to the ball. Scanning the obstacles, she relaxed her grip and softly swung the club. The small sphere rolled down the green, bouncing in angles he hadn't thought of using, and going successfully into the windmill. Coming out the other side, Jake glowered as the ball continued its bounding course, sailing into the hole without any trouble. Diane lifted an eyebrow at him expectantly.

"Lucky shot," he conceded, pretending to be unimpressed. "So I'm guessing you have mini golf down to an art-- or science, in your case."

"Mmm, actually, it's geometry."

"Yeah, yeah," he drawled at her smart-aleck response. Trudging away to retrieve the balls, Jake returned and tossed them in the basket. "I still think that shot was a fluke."

"Trust me, Jake. That shot had nothing to do with chance." Diane pursed her lips as she dropped the golf club next to her shoes. "My personal relationships, however... Now that's something that could use a little luck. Like big tanker trucks full of it."

"Your personal relationships aren't that bad."

"No, they are. I mean, just in one year; first there was Steve, and now Brad is a confirmed loser... I'm really starting to think that every guy I get involved with is from Jerks 'R Us." Jake chuckled while a sad smile crossed her face. "My taste in men pretty much blows, doesn't it?"

He pondered that question for a moment. "Well, I don't think it's your taste that blows, but rather the particular guys you've tasted." Jake reassessed his answer, asking slowly, "That didn't sound right, did it?"

Diane flushed. "I think I get the main idea of what you're trying to say."

Jake beamed a grateful smile and started fidgeting with the handle of his golf club. Standing in front of each other, the conversation died on that note with neither of them having the faintest idea on how to revive it. Diane crossed her arms, drawing Jake's attention to the fact that she was shivering. "You're cold," he noted, bending to set down his club and pick up the jacket he had shed earlier.

"Cold? Oh, no, I'm-- Well, actually yeah, kinda. Sort of."

They both grinned at her indecisiveness as he slipped his suit jacket around her shoulders. Tugging at the lapels to make sure the garment covered as much of her exposed skin, Jake paused when he caught her biting her lip. "What's wrong?"

Diane took a deep breath, her line of sight darting back and forth from his face to an imaginary spot on his disheveled tie. "Jake, I... I just want you to know that everything we did this weekend... I don't want you to think that I took you to any of those places because 'Brad and I went there' or something; we never did, by the way. All those spots mean a lot to me. They're special to me just like how you're--" She broke off and pulled the jacket more securely around her. "I-I thought that maybe you might like them just as much as I do, that's all."

Jake jammed his hands into his pockets. "I'm sorry I said those things to you," he apologized, ashamed for making those accusations towards her. But even with all the remorse, Jake sensed a heavy weight had been taken off his chest. It never occurred to him how much he was hurt by the idea that she might have unconsciously been using him as a substitute for... Shaking his head, he quit any further analysis of the concept, satisfied with knowing that it didn't hold true anyways. "Diane, I do like those places. I like them a lot; they're amazing. I..." He sighed at his inability to describe what he wanted to say. "I'm just really glad you let me tag along with you this weekend."

"I'm glad you came with me, too," she said, her voice hushed.

The leaves of the birches ringing the golf course began rustling in the light breeze, competing with the ticking spurts of water sprinklers in the nearby driving range and the accelerated drumming that Jake recognized to be Diane's pulse. Centralizing on the latter of the three, Jake plucked away a piece of lint from the jacket she wore before returning his hand into his pocket.

"Diane?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't think you're ordinary."

"Huh?"

Jake watched her, unblinkingly. "On the plane, you said that you were 'just ordinary' in high school. But from what I've seen and heard of you when you were younger, I don't think that's true... I don't think you were 'just ordinary' back then or right now, Diane..." A deep frown creased his features. "That sounded stupid, didn't--"

The sudden sensation of her lips touching the back of his cheek stole away his ability to utter the last word. He blinked rapidly, attempting to process what was happening. Her breath fanning the area just below his earlobe was so pleasant and comfortable, but just as quickly as that warmth had appeared, it dissipated into cold air when Diane pulled back.

He gazed down at her as she smiled at him affectionately and stooped to gather up her shoes. Her being that close for a moment had felt nice, very nice, but to him it hadn't been long enough. Not by a long shot.

Blushing, Diane straightened and was about to turn away. "Um, we still have a few more holes to go so--"

Jake stopped her in mid-sentence using the same tactic she had, but this time, going straight to the source. He moved his lips tentatively against hers, immediately becoming afraid that his instincts had led him astray when she didn't respond. Jake's insecurities were put to rest, though, with the muffled clatter of high heels falling onto Astro-Turf and Diane's hands flattening against his chest.

She timidly kissed him back, a startling contrast to the fistfuls of shirt she clawed at, yanking him closer. The intense mixture of gentleness and ferocity threw Jake off-guard, almost causing him to topple forward, taking her with him. He regained his balance, however, by planting his feet and wrapping his arms around her waist. The dark blue jacket around her shoulders tumbled to a forgotten heap on the ground, its role as protection from the evening chill replaced by Jake's own body heat.

The full contact of their bodies pressed against each other with only a few layers of clothes between them sent Jake's senses reeling. He deepened the kiss, matching her fierceness with his own. Desire welled up inside, almost casting him off the edge, but the constant, nagging notion in the back of his mind was strong enough to give him the restraint he needed.

This wasn't real. Well, it was "real" in the sense that they were standing on an empty golf course making out. "Real" in that the slippery material of her dress was sweeping against his bare forearms as she lightly raked her fingernails up and down the thin fabric of his shirt; yeah, all that was definitely happening.

What wasn't real was the belief that he and Diane could afford to act on what they really wanted to do right now without later on feeling cheated out of a future they could never have. The smooth metal of her rings on his skin when she caressed his cheek -- the same smooth metal he felt when she examined him back in the lab... back in the NSA -- reminded him of that fact.

Jake reluctantly released his mouth from hers, doing his best to ignore the low moan of protest that emanated from her parted lips. Resting his chin on top of her head, he buried his face in the swirling mass of brown curls, inhaling the familiar scent he hadn't known he had committed to memory until now.

It was true that he was aware he ought to stop this, but just a few more moments of deliciously torturous contact wouldn't hurt, right? Not really caring if that was right or not, his hands crawled upwards to the small of Diane's back, propelling her frame even more towards his, making sure no excusable inch of space was between them. His breath came out in rasps, agitating the short wisps of hair that feathered against the side of her forehead. Forcing himself to be content with just hugging her, Jake reveled in the sensations that were all occurring at once; the way the muscles in her back yielded slightly to his touch, the trace of perfume that wafted from a spot just below her ear, the tiny kisses she dabbed on his skin as she found the open gap of his shirt collar and nuzzled against the base of his neck. He tasted the lingering hint of peppermint when Diane raised her head and recaptured his mouth, using her tongue to enhance the pleasurable flavor. Jake's eyelids snapped shut, giving over to the graphic scenarios that had been harboring in the deep recesses of his imagination and were now all too insistent on finally surpassing the barrier to his consciousness.

Lost among the explicit images flooding his mind, seconds passed -- perhaps even minutes, Jake wasn't quite sure -- before Diane sighed, gently pushing herself away from his hold. Slipping on her high heels, she gazed up at him with an expression that Jake found hard to categorize.

"It was a nice fantasy while it lasted, wasn't it?" Diane inquired softly.

He took in the range of emotions she projected from that simple sentence; the melding of disbelief, happiness, desire, and longing that permeated from the low tone she had used to murmur each syllable. Understanding the meaning behind her words, he found it bittersweet to know that he hadn't been the only one using this weekend to escape reality. "Yeah. It was nice," Jake breathed. Mindful of the few hours they had left, he attempted to make light of the situation by flashing a grin and asking, "So... what was that kiss for?"

Diane looked at him coyly and threw a sideward glance at the ground, joking, "Your balls said I should."

Jake's mouth fell agape at her answer while she started to walk away to the next hole. Confused, he picked up his coat and club off the ground and was reaching for the basket of golf balls when he started to chuckle. Printed on each of the Lucky Pete's golf balls was a clover and the small inscription of "Kiss me, I'm Irish."

He regarded the small spheres thoughtfully, a faint smirk curling the edge of his mouth. With the breeze beginning to spread the smell of salty sea air through the park, Jake covertly pocketed one of the golf balls and sauntered after Diane, convinced that both his and Diane's luck seemed to be turning up already.


Author's Note: All locations mentioned in this story are real and were described to the best of my researching ability using Google... Except, of course, for Lucky Pete's Putt Putt Park, that's just my cheesy invention.