She had an amazing one-plane swing. Simple, but perfectly executed. Her arms and shoulders moved like they were one, the shift of her hip when she coiled, all the way down to the slight pointed toe for the finish through.
"What is it?" She finally asked, using the golf club to get another ball out of the pile.
She didn't even look up, probably feeling his eyes on her the whole time. Not like he was trying to hide it.
"How long did you take lessons for?"
She shrugged, winding up for another near perfect swing. "Couple of years."
He leaned back into his seat, taking a drink of the spiked Arnold Palmer he ordered.
"Why?" She asked, after a lull of silence.
"What kind of horse did you learn to ride on?"
The corner of her mouth turned down, her eyes finally sliding over, eyeing his out of corner, nose tilted down.
He bit the inside of his cheek, staying his own lips.
"Arabian?" He pressed.
Her head turned away quickly, her bangs fluffing up with her follow through. "Shetland pony. And it bucked me off a hundred times more than it let me on."
He looked at her, than past her down the green. About a football field away, was a massive net, as tall as the building behind them.
They were sat under the outside awning, completely alone. Because it was 1pm on a Tuesday and because he had bought out that whole side of the field.
He sat back in the chair, taking another sip of the lemonade, tea and vodka.
"Who was your escort at your ball?" He asked.
He could see the flush rising in her cheeks and the pinch of her lips. "Who said I was a debutante?"
He knew she was. He was at had ball. Watched her in the flowing gown, long arm length gloves, trying to force a smile, shaking like a leaf hanging onto her cousin.
His lips curled, ready to shoot their final blow. "You look like the type."
"Well, I'm, not." She seethed, huffing in through her nose. "I think maybe I should go."
She stepped off the green, ready to set her club down and leave.
He got up quickly, setting down his drink. He walked straight up to her, holding out his hand for the club.
He dug out another little key from his pocket.
He could see Hinata almost roll her eyes. He set the key on the T, line himself up and swung.
"Good."
"What?" She asked absentmindedly, going to grab her coat and purse.
"I'm not either."
She paused, looking at him, her head tilted sideways, letting her bangs part a little on the side.
"Like that." He clarified, putting his hands into his pockets. "This shit is ostentatious."
Her face didn't really move for a second, eyes still looking at him from the side, eyebrows lowered, mouth held tight.
She didn't believe him.
He shrugged. Most people didn't.
Sure, he used money. Because he had it. He wasn't planning on having it that much longer, so sometimes he gave himself a pass. It was for making memories.
But, like any ungrateful rich kid, he didn't suspect that he would really be missing it all that much.
"Want to go for a walk?"
She nodded. "Yeah…. Okay."