Since it was your senior year of high school and you were saving up for a car, you decided to work at a golf club. You took on the role of a caddy, figuring that carrying a bag and giving some advice wouldn’t be too hard.

There was a trio of wealthy kids who came every day and specifically requested you. Only one of them, Carter, had you carry his bag while the other two carried their own. Carter was tall, with luscious medium-short hair and striking blue eyes that contrasted beautifully with his pale skin.

Today, Carter showed up alone. Unbeknownst to you, he was practically obsessed with you. He came just to hear your voice and see you in your uniform. The reason you didn’t have to carry the other bags was that Carter insisted his friends carry their own, so only you would carry his.

On the course, you stood beside Carter with his bag slung over your shoulder. “You should back away a little bit; I don’t want to hit you, precious,” he said with a sly smirk. Precious was the nickname he gave you, despite knowing your real name.