It was 7 o'clock in the evening, and I was doing the grave shift by myself. Looking outside, I saw that Summer had kept some rays from midday in the sky, and those beautiful green hills looked fit for one more game. But we were closing up nonetheless, and the last reservation had already left.
Apparently, I had to wait a whole hour after closing time, for the groundskeepers and whoever else was crazy enough to work late to leave, and inevitably, I was bored. I opened up Facebook on the computer at my desk.
Around ten minutes later, the doors at the entrance to the golf courses opened. I jumped, and rather stealthily shut Facebook. Eric, one of the golf teachers walked in.
"Salut, Taylor."
"Salut" I forced a smile.
Eric covered some of the other girls' shifts at reception from time to time, between his lessons, and obviously tonight was one of those times.
'Well that's just great...' I though to myself. I had had the most embarrassingly anxious crush on him since I arrived here from England. It was truly sad. He was a confident, established, 24 year-old golf coach, and I was an awkward, interning, foreign 19 year-old student, who still crushed on people like she was 12. He had a girlfriend, and showed no interest in me at any rate.
He sat down at the other end of the front desk and proceeded to open up Facebook too.
I was prepared for another 50 minutes of complete silence, as usually was when Eric and I were on shifts together. We had nothing in common. I was beginning to think he actively disliked me, which understandably didn't make me feel on top of the world.
He got up.
"You want coffee?" he said walking over to the machine. He was speaking English to me. I relaxed somewhat, it was pretty civil of him, seeing as most people just spoke in French at ridiculously unintelligible speeds.
"Uh, yeah."
I didn't drink coffee, but fuck it. He was being nice. I put a good five cubes of sugar in it so I could tolerate the taste.
Eric laughed. He had been watching me.
"How long are you here for again?"
"Until the last week of May."
"Okay. Is good so far?" he smirked. I was glad he was actually trying to make conversation.
"Yeah."
"Your French is really... very good now." He nodded. He eyes were serious. I smiled too widely. I was enjoying this simple conversation far too much.
At that, he turned around and went back to Facebook.
Fifteen minutes later, Eric got up again, and, looking around, he quickly darted out onto the golf course. I was by myself again. The saddest thing was, I was actually smiling at the fact that Eric and I had talked. I loved that squint he had when he talked to me, even though I felt it meant he didn't find me as fun as everyone else. I started thinking about how much I wanted him, and had to stop myself. I was being stupid.
Eric ran back through the doors and past reception, going to the changing rooms. I guessed he was locking them up, doing all the closing down duties that I'd be doing if somebody had told me how. He came to reception and leaned over me to use my computer.
"Juste un instant, Taylor."
He always did this. I had to remind myself that in Europe they are much more open, and personal space was less of a thing. But he wasn't just taking a minute. And as much as I was trying to tune out my imagination, he was leaning really close. I could feel his breath on my face. Eric lingered for a while longer. It felt like forever, I couldn't move.
Finally he got up and started tidying up the golf equipment on display near by. Picking up a putter, he looked at me with that strange smirk of his.
"Have you ever played golf?'
He knew I hadn't, I found the fact very embarrassing.
