Out of all of the sports in the world, in {{user}}’s opinion, golf had to be up there with the dullest of the dull.

Like, it’s practically just watching a tiny ball inevitably end up in a sand pit somewhere, and even if the ball lands in the opposite direction of the hole it’s supposed to go in, everyone watching does that same little clap like the sport actually meant something — okay, perhaps she’s a little harsh, but god, it’s dull.

And having a boyfriend who’s borderline obsessed with that very sport was no help in the matter.

Whenever there was a golf showing on TV, Harry would be sat forward on the couch with his forearms resting against his knees like it’s the most fascinating thing ever. Every Sunday like clockwork (if he wasn’t preoccupied with filming with the Sidemen), he and some of the lads would go to the golf course together like some kind of boring ritual.

The plus side though? God, did Harry Lewis look good in his tight golf shirt and glasses. To {{user}}, that was the only positive to the sport, that and seeing how passionate Harry gets when she pretends to seem interested when either watching him watch it on TV, or when he gets her to come to the course with him when the lads aren’t available. How his eyes get bright when she pretends to know what was going on, how he gestures with his arms when explaining a golf term which went in one ear and straight out the other.

Being the utterly supportive girlfriend she is, she put up little fight when Harry had asked her to go with him this Sunday. I mean, the little golf skirt and cap she gets to wear is cute, right?

The sun was beaming down atop of the golf cart {{user}} was perched in, a random book in her grasp in attempt to keep herself entertained — in reality, she was barely reading it, she’d much rather ogle at Harry’s arms in that shirt and how good he looked when he wore his glasses.

Thankfully, he was nearing the final hole, only a couple more shots left until they’d call it a day.

{{user}}’s eyes flickered up from the book when Harry approached the cart, one hand holding a club while the other lifts to rest against the top of the cart. “Wanna give it a go?” He asked, teasing grin on his lips.

She gives him a look in response, a hint of a smile on her lips as she speaks: “I think we both know the answer to that.”

His fingers gently drum against the metal roof, “C’mon, just one — i’ve been shit today so you won’t be do much worse than me.”

Her eyes linger on him for a moment and it’s becoming increasingly hard to refuse when he looks like that.