Stroke of Fate

Chapter 1

Chapter One: A Coin Toss
The Florida sun was already beading sweat across bare shoulders before the first tee-off. The course shimmered with the lazy gleam of a summer morning, the kind that smelled like sunscreen and cut grass and pulsing heat. Cicadas screamed somewhere beyond the palm line.

Lizzy crouched over her bag, tying her laces with a grunt and a snap as her baby-blue polo rose up her lower back, revealing a sliver of peachy skin. Her loose braid had started to frizz in the damp air, little wisps curling around flushed cheeks. She looked over her shoulder at Felicia, who was adjusting the collar of her rose-pink blouse with the same fastidious flair she gave everything—sharpened French-tipped nails fussing with one final button that didn’t really want to cooperate.

“You’re gonna sweat through that thing by Hole 3,” Lizzy teased, lips curling. “Why even bother with long sleeves?”

Felicia smirked and ran a hand over the fabric, smoothing it over her chest and down to her waist, hips cocked. “Because some of us like to win with style. Besides…” She stepped forward, whispering conspiratorially, “...this blouse is tighter than it looks. If I pop a button, it’ll be from power.”

Lizzy cackled and rose, dusting her thighs as her khaki skort rode high. Her toned legs flexed with the motion, but she wasn’t as taut as she used to be. “If you pop one, I’m making you play the rest of the hole with your tits out.”

Felicia arched a brow. “And if I win the hole?”

“You won’t.”

They stood at the edge of the tee box, exchanging smirks as they pulled out drivers. The wager started light: loser buys drinks, first water hazard equals a dare. Then it got juicier—loser walks the last three holes barefoot, then it was money, then it was “a week doing whatever the winner says.”

And that’s when the man appeared.

No one saw where he came from. One moment it was just them and the breeze; the next, he was leaning casually on the ball washer like he belonged there, a white glove tracing the edge of the polished metal. His smile was sharp. Not predatory—just knowing.

“You two wanna make it interesting?” he asked, his voice oily with charm. “More than drinks and dares?”

Lizzy shot Felicia a look. “Creep alert?”

But Felicia’s head tilted. “Depends. What’re you offering?”

The man reached into his breast pocket—no one noticed what kind of shirt it was, only that it was too dry for this heat—and pulled out a silver coin, about the size of a poker chip. One side shimmered with an emblem that looked like a scale; the other, a swirling spiral.

“You each touch it,” he said. “Make a wish. Then snap it.”

Lizzy laughed. “That’s it? And what, we get abs and a hole-in-one?”

“Or curves,” the man replied, almost too casually. “You never know.”

They glanced at each other.

Felicia shrugged. “Whatever. Let’s do it.”

They placed their fingertips on either side—Lizzy’s chipped teal polish against Felicia’s manicured blush pink—and pressed.

SNAP.

The coin dissolved instantly, like ice on a grill. No smoke, no sparkle. Just... gone.

Both women blinked.

Felicia looked at her fingers. “Did it just...?”

Lizzy rubbed her thumb and index finger together. “Dude. Okay, that was weird.”

“Whatever,” Felicia said with a shrug. “Let’s play.”

Hole 1: Par 4

Lizzy’s shot was decent—fairway, slight hook—but Felicia’s drive cut clean across the bend and rolled just short of the green. She parred it clean. Lizzy landed in a trap on her approach and two-putted for a bogey.

Felicia grinned, marking a 4.

Lizzy groaned, scribbling a 5 onto the card, then paused.

Underneath the strokes… there was a new number.

Lizzy – 128 lbs
Felicia – 121 lbs

Lizzy blinked.

“What...?”

Felicia leaned over. “What’s that?”

“I didn’t write that,” Lizzy said, frowning. “Did you add these?”

Felicia looked. “Weird.”

She shrugged. “Maybe it’s pulling from our profiles? I think I linked my Apple Watch once.”

Lizzy scratched her temple. “Yeah. Maybe.”

She didn’t remember being 128 pounds.

Her skort felt a little snug. She shifted her hips. A faint pinch at her waistband. Fabric tugging slightly higher up her thighs than it had twenty minutes ago. But maybe it was just the heat.

Felicia raised her driver and grinned. “One down, chonk.”

“Keep talking,” Lizzy shot back, grabbing her water bottle. “You’ll be the one waddling back to the car.”

But she tugged her waistband down slightly as they walked, lips pursed.
It wasn’t tight this morning... was it?

Behind them, the man was gone.