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ellewritessometimes · 3 years

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It’s a Gift

Summary: Cas and Dean have become very close. Dean develops a crush and is afraid to say anything. He continues to fall harder as the days go on. As the Valentine's Day party approaches, Dean wonders if he'll share the secret he's been harboring.

Ships: Dean/Cas, Crobby

Word Count: 3,552

TW: Mentions of violence and Homophobia, Swearing

Notes: This is a work from an abandoned Valentine's Day group writing project. I decided to post it still because I worked hard on it and I wanted the original intended recipient to get their fic as planned. I want to thank Luc for allowing me to reach out to them and @kermit-drinking-tea-dot-jpg for betaing this fic.

Link to read on AO3

The smell of greasy tater tots and dry nuggets wafted through the cafeteria as I walked in and took my seat at the table. The rest of the team sat down as well.

"Does anyone have a date for Valentine's party tomorrow?" Garth asked.

"I'm sure Sam will be my date," Gabe smirked. The guy was kinda obsessed with my brother.

Garth rolled his eyes and continued to take a bite of his chicken patty. I turned the page of my notebook, trying to decode my notes from last week.

"Shit," I mumbled under my breath.

"What?" Gabe asked with a mouth full of french fries.

"I can't read my notes, and the test is next period," I said in frustration. I had scrawled them down distractedly during the class.

"Would you like to borrow mine?" Cas asked.

Of course, I would like to borrow Cas's notes. He was a great student, always crazy organized.

Cas slid a spiral-bound notebook with perfect notes written in blue gel pen. The lettering looked like a font. I could never be like this. I could never sit still for that long. Oh, to be like Cas; Quarterback, Captain of the Football team, debate mentor, NHS, he really had it all. I was just a linebacker struggling to remember physics. God, Dad, is gonna kill me.

"Thanks, man," There was relief in my voice. Maybe I'd pass. A.P. Physics is not the move when you're a dumbass.

Cas smiled and picked up his book, On the Road. I've never seen him eat during school. He's always reading, helping us with homework, or keeping Gabe and Garth out of trouble.

The bell rang, so I handed Cas his notebook back. He winked, and I felt my heart pound. I'm sure he was just saying ‘you're welcome’.

* * *

Mr. Crowley handed out the test, and I inhaled deeply. I can't do this. I can't do this.

Cas looked toward me and mouthed, "Are you ok?"

I shook my head. The little shit winked again and raised his hand.

"Mr. Crowley, I think Dean is going to be ill," Cas fibbed, "I should take him to the nurse just to be sure."

"We wouldn't want that. Take him to the nurse," Mr. Crowley gave him the ok.

Cas and I walked out of the classroom and into the hallway. Cas gestured to me to follow him. He led me into an empty classroom and shut the door.

He set his notebook and pencil down on a desk and bluntly said, "Sit."

I did as I was told. I watched him write a kinematic equation on a fresh sheet.

"What do you know?" Cas asked.

"Nothing."

"I don't believe that."

"I'm a dumbass," I shrugged.

He tilted his head, and I noticed a change in his eyes.

"You don't believe you deserved to be helped," He stated and quickly changed the subject in an attempt to take what he said back. "Let's start easy."

I leaned my head over to see the problem he wrote. A hair fell on my face, and Cas pushed it away. I jumped. Cas jumped as well, startled by my reaction. His disposition changed.

"I'm sorry, I…" His voice trailed off.

"It's fine, Cas." I made an attempt to reassure him.

We moved along with the problem like it never happened. But it did happen. I would feel the touch on my forehead the rest of the day. The way his hand felt, soft and warm against my rough skin.

We must have done at least 20 problems until I finally felt comfortable doing it independently. The bell rang, and I thanked Cas. He really didn't need to do that. I wasn't shocked that he did though, he always tried to help the guys somehow. The dude's a friggin angel.

* * *

I was distracted all of the football practice. I was preoccupied thinking about Cas.

"Winchester, get your head in the game!" Coach Bobby yelled out.

I had known Bobby my whole life. He'd been more like a dad than my own blood. He was always there when Dad was deployed, on a hunting trip, or just drunk, unable to take care of Sam and me. Dad was never the most stable person.

I nodded to Bobby and tried to focus. I'd been meaning to talk to the school counselor about getting me to see a therapist or something to get diagnosed. Bobby and I suspected I had ADHD but we wouldn't know for sure. Unfortunately, I knew that Dad didn't believe in therapy. And anyway, the doctor can't fix it if I'm distracted by Cas. God, the dude can move. His passes are perfect, he makes almost every goal, and his touchdowns are so impressive. God, I sound like I have a crush.

Practice finished, and we all headed to the locker room. Bobby gave a speech.

"We've got an away game tomorrow, folks. I expect the best behavior from you all, or you will not go to the sports Valentine's Day party. I mean it." Bobby continued, "I know that this year has been hard with the Superbowl being delayed due to extenuating circumstances, but I still need you idjits to be good."

"Yes, coach," We deadpanned in unison like cult members. We started exiting the locker room.

"Dean, I would like you to stay," Coach said sternly.

Oh shit.

Bobby led me to his office and motioned for me to sit in a chair.

"What's up with you, son?" Bobby questioned, "You've got that look, is it a girl? You're not back with Jo, are you? Lisa? Or is it a guy or an enby? You know that I don't care…"

"No, it's no one," I'm such a liar. I've had a crush on Cas since he moved here in fourth grade, and Bobby can see right through my bullshit.

"Bull," Bobby raised his eyebrows.

I shrugged. I couldn't even imagine what dad would say. Actually, I could. It would be to get out of his house and never come back.

"So that's it, you just wanted to be nosey? Besides, it's no one, and dad would never let me." I sighed.

"Don't worry about your old man. I'd take care of it. Mr. King and I always have a place for you and Sam anyway." Bobby was dating Mr. Crowley, no one but Sam and I knew.

I thanked him and left to go pick up Sam from the middle school. Boy, he had grown up so fast. I remembered when he was born. And when mom died.

* * *

I pulled up at the school, music blaring. Sam rushed to my car and opened the door.

"Can you drive me to Jess's house?" Sam asked.

"No, tonight's family dinner night." Dad's A.A. sponsor told him that it was a good idea to start trying to be more of a part of our lives. That started with dinner, I guess.

* * *

Dinner with Dad was painful. Sam and Dad bickered back and forth about every single little thing. Sam wanted to go to college, Dad wanted him to keep up with the family business, then Sam said that hunting and the military don't count as a legacy. I hate it here.

"Sam, give it a rest." I dropped my fork into Cambell's chicken noodle with stars.

"You're not siding with him, are you?" Sam's face was defensive.

"I'm the adult here." Dad slurred.

"A half of one at best," I muttered under my breath.

"What was that, boy?" Dad's face had that look I didn't like.

"Nothing, sir," I was trying not to get killed.

Creak. Dad slid his chair back and walked over to me. As he hovered over my head, my heart dropped to my stomach. He held his hand out and swung.

I could feel the tingling on my face as he said, "Say something else, and it's gonna be somewhere else."

Sam got up from the table and ran to his room. I hated when Sam saw this. I knew it would hurt him more, but I still spoke anyway. It's hard. I knew Dad loved us. He just didn't know how to express it.

I walked away from the table as Dad drank more beer.

"Sam, you know that…" I couldn't think of an excuse, so I said, "Open the door, please."

Sam opened the door. His eyes were red, stress hives had formed on his arm. I wanted to hold him and tell him I would get us out here. I tried to protect him. I wanted him to always be safe. I just wish he knew Dad before Mom died.

"Why?" Sam asked, "Why do you just sit there and take it."

So he won't come after you, I wanted to say. Instead, I just shrugged as he closed the door in frustration.

* * *

I woke up early to go on a run to clear my head. As I ran, I saw a familiar face. It was Cas, walking a fluffy golden retriever. There was a redheaded girl next to him. I didn't know her, but she was pretty. I stopped jogging and stared for a moment.

"Hey!" I waved.

"Oh hey, Dean!" Cas's face brightened. He turned to the girl, "Anna, this is Dean Winchester."

Anna threw up a hand shyly. I smiled in response.

"Catch you later, I guess," I said as I walked away.

It was nice to see Cas, and he looked happy to see me. His sister was nice as well. I thought of the interaction as I strolled to the abandoned house on the end of the street. Sam always asked why I liked that place so much, but I don't know why. I just like creepy things. The house feels almost supernatural.

* * *

"Hey!" Someone hit me in the back. Jo.

"Hay is for horses," Jo grinned. "Got a date for the party?"

I shook my head. I was planning on asking Lisa but Jo was a fun party person. This could pose an issue, but I decided to ignore it.

"Well, you do now, silly goose," Jo said snarkily.

I always took Jo to parties. She was indeed the life of them. We'd go, she'd flirt, I'd scope out the crowd, we'd both be disappointed, then drunkenly make out in the Impala. Maybe grab a milkshake. It was tradition, but I had never taken Lisa before. Jo and I were more like flirty friends; I really had something with Lisa.

"Same as always?" I asked.

"Yup, come get me at five, and I'll bring the refreshments." She was referring to the whiskey she would steal from her mom's bar.

Jo walked away, and I turned to see Lisa standing at her locker. She was grabbing a math textbook and a copy of Gatsby.

"Hey Lis," I started.

"What do you want, Dean," She seemed annoyed.

"Are you ok?"

"I thought you've been ignoring me," Her voice had little emotion.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't realize how distant I was," Now was not the best time. I decided to say nothing about the party.

"Also, I'm not going to the party. My mom is making me watch my sister." Lisa was disappointed.

"Aw man," Score. This would work out.

We departed from the hallway, and I went to class.

* * *

School could not end fast enough. I couldn't wait for the game.

"Winchester, come see me," Mr. Crowley ordered me to his desk.

I hesitantly got up. He seemed pleased. I could not think of what this could possibly be about.

"Dean, your make-up test is perfect," His voice was enthusiastic. "I'm very proud."

Wow. I could not believe this. I thought for sure that I had flunked. As I breezed by, Cas gave me a thumbs up. I would have to thank him later.

* * *

The rest of the day flew by like cake.

The team gathered in the locker room before entering the busses. Coach Bobby gave us one last speech.

"Alright, boys, remember what I said yesterday. Be polite and respectful but kick butt," The team cheered as soon as he said it.

We filled into the bus like sardines. This would be unpleasant on the ride home. I made sure I sat next to Cas to talk about science.

"Hey man, thank you so much," I patted his shoulder.

"Of course," He didn't even look up from his book.

"What's it about" I pointed to On the Road.

"Oh, it's not your kind of book. You wouldn't like it," Cas muttered assertively.

"I'm sure I would"

"When I finish, I'll let you borrow it," Cas clearly was uncomfortable.

"Ok," I decided not to press.

We sat in awkward silence. It was painful. I tried not to stare while he read his book, but he's all I wanted to pay attention to. I noticed the way his eyes glowed, the way his lip curled when he read something funny, the way he brushed his fringe away from his face.

"Dean...Dean...Dean," I finally noticed that Cas was talking to me.

"Huh?" Shit.

"You're staring,"

"You're a pretty picture," I tried to laugh it off, and I guess it worked because he smiled.

He titled his head in surprise at the comment, but he didn't say anything about it, just turned to his book again. I stared more this time, making it very obvious. He looked up again and grinned. This time, I scooted closer. Now, we were only inches apart. Without looking up, he put his head on my shoulder and continued reading. His hair was soft against my cheek. His arm fit perfectly next to mine. I felt so warm and fuzzy. I never had this feeling before.

* * *

"Hut, hut, 67," Bobby was yelling out commands, "Let's go, boys!"

The bright lights lit up the dark field. It was the fourth quarter, and things were looking good. Tried to keep my head in the game as I made a pass to Cas. Cas fumbled the ball, and another player tackled him.

"What are you doing, Novak?" Bobby yelled. Fumbles were out of character for Cas.

I noticed that the opponent was on top of Cas. This was more malicious than just a tackle.

"Hey!" Gabe tried to break them up but got lost in the mix.

Finally, a ref noticed and threw up a flag, "Fifteen-yard penalty!"

Cas stumbled up, his lip was bleeding, and a bruise formed around his eye. We cleared the field to regroup. Cas would most-likely be evaluated, and that player, Azazel, would be suspended. Bobby took Cas to the medical station and, after, walked to the refs and the other coach. You could see them conversing. Bobby's face was solemn.

"So, after talking to the other coach and the refs, we've decided to end this game. The behavior was unacceptable, and we want to prevent any other incidents from happening." Bob said, disappointingly.

"Ugh, I want to kill this kid!" Gabe yelled. His face was red hot.

"Exactly," Cas spoke up from the bench. No one even noticed that he walked over. "This is what we want to prevent."

Gabe crossed his arms. He's quite the drama queen.

Bobby told us to gather our stuff and meet him outside to get on the bus. Most of the team was able to grab their belongings quickly. I was about to leave the locker room when I heard someone grunt. They sounded frustrated.

"Dean! Are you still in here?" Cas called out.

"Um...yeah? Why?"

Cas walked out from behind a row of lockers, shirtless. I tried to contain myself, but the sweat against his skin, the ruffled wet hair, the smile, he looked hot. I must say.

He looked defeated, "I can't find my bag."

I nodded, and Cas continued, "Can you tell Coach Singer that I'll be late? I need to find my bag."

I ran to Bobby, "Cas can't find his bag. I'm gonna stay and help him. I'll call for you to pick me up later."

"Sounds good, kiddo," Bobby gave me two thumbs up.

I ran back to Cas just to find him with his head between his knees on a bench. I didn't know what to do, so I just placed my hand on his back and left it there.

The room smelled of old sweat and mud. The smell was so overwhelming, I don't know how I didn't notice it earlier. There are lots of things I haven't seen, I start to think about what I've actually paid attention to.

"Cas?" I question. "Are you ok?"

He shook his head. He didn't even move from his position, so I got up to look around. The lockers didn't have locks, so I opened all of them. Nothing. I checked under benches, in stalls; I even looked by the toilets.

"Man, I can't find it," I sighed.

Seconds after I said those words, the lights went out, and I heard the twist of a key.

"Damnit!" I'd never heard Cas curse before, "What are we gonna do?"

"Cas, I don't know," I said as I tried to think.

I opened my phone to see that it was dead. I couldn't use the flashlight, and if Cas didn't have his bag, he didn't have his phone with him. Thankfully, I had a charger in my pocket, but it would take at least an hour for my Motorola to charge. Damn, that phone takes forever.

"We're gonna miss the party, and it's all my fault," Cas started sobbing.

"No, don't cry," I don't do well with tears. I sat back down on the bench.

"Dean…" Cas scooted away from me.

"What?" I moved closer so I could hear him through the sobs.

Cas turned and kissed me. His soft lips against mine felt like heaven on a platter. He ran his hands through my hair as he swung his legs over onto my lap. I lay down on my back as he leaned into me. I began kissing back but still letting him lead. This is what I wanted. I've been yearning for this. He moves from my lips to my neck, and I run my hands across his muscles.

"Dean?"

"Cas?"

"God, I love it when you say my name," He says as he undresses me faster.

* * *

After we finish, I check my phone to see if it is charged. The time says 7:15. It's only been an hour since the game ended, so we're not too late.

"So what do we do now?" Cas was lying on the bench, looking at the ceiling.

"Call Bobby to pick us up, I guess?" I ran out of solutions, "I think someone stole it."

"You're probably right, but how do we get out of here?" Cas questioned.

I did not think about that. We were in a locked locker room after school hours with no way of getting out or seeing.

It took me a moment, but I came up with a solution. There's a window high up in the back, so I slid another bench towards it so I could reach it. I flicked the lock on the window, and it budged. It was a small window, but I could climb up and slide my torso through without issue.

"Cas!" I yelled as I slid downwards out of the window, back into the locker room.

"What?"

"I found a solution."

* * *

Bobby arrived quickly to pick up a poor freezing shirtless Cas and me.

"No bag?" Bobby questioned.

We shrugged and told him we couldn't find it. Bobby said that we were never playing this school again. Cas and I were content with that. I looked over to Cas and smiled. He smiled back and giggled. I held out my hand, and he took it. I felt the warm sensation through my body again as he touched me.

"What's up with you guys?" Bobby asked.

"Nothing," I smiled but quickly pulled my hand away from Cas. I wasn't ready to tell Bobby yet.

* * *

We arrived at Valentine's party, and Jo was the first to greet me.

"Did you forget about me?" Jo wrinkled her nose in annoyance.

"Sorry, I was looking for Cas's bag." I'm not lying.

"Well, I found another date." Jo turned to a girl, Lisa.

"Hey Dean," Lisa waved and pointed to a redhead, "Meet Charlie!"

"Hi! I'm Jo's girlfriend!" Charlie stuck out her hand enthusiastically.

I laughed—what a wild night. I strolled over to the drink table and grabbed some punch. Cas found me through the crowd. He was shy now.

"Dean? Are we going to talk about this?" Cas insisted.

"Sure."

"I like you."

"I get that." I wondered what the problem was.

"And?" Cas seemed unsure.

I moved closer to Cas and hugged him.

Cas told me that Gabe had grabbed his bag from the locker room because he knew that Cas was hurt. Gabe was goofy but kind at heart. Cas was thankful that he did, and no one stole it.

That reminded me that I had something to give Cas. I opened my bag and handed Cas a mixtape with some Zeppelin favorites.

"Dean, I can't take this," Cas was in awe.

"It's a gift; you keep those." I smiled and took his hand to dance.

#spn #fic #destiel crack #crack fic #request #fanfic #this is not my usual style lol #userroadhouse

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paintingarta · 5 years

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torentialtribute · 5 years

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Matt Wallace anger management could be key to his Open fortunes

Matt Wallace pushes his palms forward and laughs. Jermaine Jenas had reached the top of his backward swing, focused on the green par-3 170 meters ahead.

With his club about to begin the camera shutter fluttered like the wings of mechanical butterfly.

& # 39; See! & # 39; Chuckled Wallace, gesturing to the photographers. [Bewerken] See also. & # 39; Now you know how we feel! 19469004]

<img id = "i-a6d8c5cc00d3be90" src = "https://ift.tt/2SegW6I 12_1563027062539.jpg "height =" 431 "width =" 634 "alt =" Matt Wallace was accompanied on the course by Sportsmail & Jermaine Jenas for The Open "class =" blkBorder img-share

Matt Wallace was one of the most influential people in the world who joined the course by Sportsmail & Jermaine Jenas for The Open

Fortunately for Jenas, there was nothing more than a one-hole lead in a friendly knockout at stake, and out of courtesy and fair play, Wallace let him reload and go again.This time, without distractions, Jenas flushed with eight disabilities his iron to five feet from the hole and Wallace admitted the putt Wallace is a big fan, and if Paul Pogba will go and if Ole Gunnar Solskjaer is the right man for the job.

But one cannot help thinking that this is what happens again this week while Wallace is wrestling the winds and rolling dunes of Royal Portrush, it is unlikely that it will end just as jovially.

And why should it? The Open, the most prestigious golf tournament of all, could be at stake. But on a course like punishing Portrush, control over the emotions is of great importance. Lose your calmness, and your chance to sip at the Claret Jug is probably with it.

The four-time European tour winner will try to keep his emotions under control at Portrush "time wins the European tour winner's emotions in Portrush"

The four-time winner of the European tour will try to maintain his emotions THREE TIPS TO PLAY BETTER GOLF

1. Think & # 39; Strike & # 39;

Every time I shoot my goal, I think only one thing: strike. That is the key word. Sometimes I will put a dot on the ball and try to concentrate on it to keep my mind on the strike. Then wave smoothly.

2. Dilute it from the fairway

When you are in the fairway, stay long and think about hitting the ball. Ignore the sand. Try to dilute the ball. At least then you get it where you want. If you get too much sand, you are nowhere. That is the opposite of green bunkers on the side where you want to think about as much sand as possible on the grass.

3. The More Putts to Drill

When I put, I place a hole with a tee pin about six centimeters for the ball on the line I have chosen. It is much easier to get a good hit on the ball over that spot than by aiming at the hole. That also helps you if you read your rule correctly.

For Wallace, this may be the one who determines or destroys his chances in Northern Ireland. The 29-year-old, the four-time winner of the European Tour and the second in the race to Dubai, has not always been able to prevent his breakthrough if something went wrong with the course

Wallace received criticism after he had appeared to sue veteran caddy Dave McNeilly at the BMW International Open in Munich last month after twice finding the water in the last hole to see his hope for defending his disintegrating title

& "I'm not proud of how I reacted," says Wallace, who received his own pet from his parents for his own merit. & # 39; It is something that I really want to improve. & # 39;

& # 39; It is something that I really want to improve. We were great after the round, although people might not have expected it. We were laughing about it and embracing it. Dave and I know exactly what we have done wrong and we will solve that together. "

& # 39; It's weird & # 39 ;, Jenas says as they walk down the next fairway. & # 39; In football, those kinds of reactions are perceived as caring, bothering. In the field we would always say that something good will come out. We have highlighted the problem and will continue as a team. It will make you stronger.

& # 39; I want to see passion. We all love it when Ian Poulter is pumping his chest. The concern is that you take that fire away and where have you gone? It's a nice balance. "

Jenas pointed out that people like to see the kind of passion that becomes emulated by the will of Ian Poulter that people like to see the kind of passion emulated by people like Ian Poulter

It is a balance that Wallace knows that he is not always right, a by-product of his intensity when locked up in competition. I apologized in May for a & # 39; petulant act & # 39; after he hit his putter on the green with the British masters. At the US Open on Pebble Beach, I kicked his bag with his putter in frustration before throwing it away after I dropped it.

But if there is anything that comes through during this round, it is Wallace's honest self-awareness and his drive to improve. He has sought the help of Dr. Steve McGregor, the performance coach who helped both Rory McIlroy and Lee Westwood rise to No. 1 in the world.

& # 39; It is the area that I can improve the most and that which I am the least proud of. It was not noticed three years ago because nobody knew who I was. I am excited to show people that I can change and will change.

& I need control of emotions to help me get to that next level. That is a positive thing.

Wallace hopes 29 years ago to become the first English winner of the Open since Nick Faldo while continuing with his own admission, & # 39; virtually nowhere & # 39;

Wallace will hope it will be the first English winner of the Open since Nick Faldo "

will be the first English winner of the Open since Nick Faldo"

Wallace hopes to become the first English winner of the Open since Nick Faldo

He became a pro in 2012, but in the last three years he has left the Alps Tour, the third tier of the wave to the top of the European Tour. He was unlucky that he missed a place in last year's Ryder Cup, he finished third in May for the PGA championship and then finished twelfth at the US Open.

His relationship with McNeilly, still strong, could be invaluable if he triumphed in Portrush. McNeilly, himself a Northern Irish, knows it well.

McNeilly & # 39; s experience is also huge. During his career he was in the pouch for Nick Faldo, Nick Price and Padraig Harrington, who all became champions themselves.

Wallace had never been to Portrush week when I played a round with the 2011 Open champion Darren Clarke, a member of the club who held the competition for the first time since 1951. For a course that has enticed so many ignorant souls into its grip, a few of his secrets for Thursday's invaluable knowledge.

Yet there is still so much work that still needs to be done before Wallace ends on Thursday. The nights work via the course planner. That is, Wallace says, if you can think of the negatives. The bunkers to miss, the rough ones to avoid, which bats to take him to which position in which wind. All that when the tournament starts, and he is past that first shot, his mind is clear. Easier said than done.

Jenas talks to Sportsail & # 39; s James Sharpe during a day at the golf course with Matt Wallace Sharpe during a day at the golf course with Matt Wallace "

Jenas talks to Sportsmail & James Sharpe during a day at the golf course with Matt Wallace

& # 39; You may have negative thoughts & # 39 ;, he says. & # 39; Everyone does it. It's just how long you keep them in your head. & # 39;

Everyone who has played golf knows that feeling, including Jenas. & # 39; The number of times I shot and thought the danger was the bunker & # 39 ;, he says. & # 39; .. and I hit it in the bunker. & # 39;

& # 39; Yes, but when you take a penalty, you think: & # 39; Don't miss it, don't miss it & # 39 ;

& # 39; Well no, & # 39; Jenas replies.

& # 39; It is the same. I don't need them. I can see enough good photos that I know I can hit.

<img id = "i-8349b70faf857a86" src = "https://ift.tt/2lbqmmT -17_1563027235272.jpg "height =" 905 "width =" 634 "alt =" The 29-year-old had never been to Portrush until this week when I was playing with Darren Clarke "

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He also has a lot in this round hit. They both have. Jenas finds it raw, but crunches to five-iron, on Wallace's advice, just outside the green. A few more lessons about chipping and putting help him up and down. It is Wallace's turn to play caddy.

Wallace is relaxed, certainly more than on the 72nd in Munich last month. Wallace knows he has a chance.

& # 39; It's huge & # 39 ;, he says. I am playing some good things right now. It is another challenge for me to show my improvements on and next to the golf course. "

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