Bryson De Chambeau - Leisurely Getaway
Requested: yes
Prompt: Y/n wants a getaway with no golf but Bryson has other plans
Warnings: none
The hum of the rental car filled the quiet stretch of the drive, the trees rising tall and elegant as the avenue wound its way toward the hotel. Y/n sat curled in the passenger seat, one knee tucked up, her textbook balanced on her lap. She wasn’t reading, though. Her eyes kept darting out the window, widening at the perfectly manicured hedges and the flash of spring flowers painting the landscape. "This place looks insane." She said finally, shutting her book and turning to Bryson. "Where even is it again? You just said to worry about packing a bag and that you'd take care of the rest." Bryson grinned at the road ahead, one hand lazily on the wheel, the other drumming on the console. "That was the point. No stressing, no planning. Just a week away. You’ll see."
"You’re ridiculously cryptic, you know that? You could’ve at least told me the name." He shot her a sidelong glance, lips tugging up. "If I told you the name, you’d have Googled it, memorized the layout, scoped every menu, and probably asked for the spa brochure before we even checked in." Y/n swatted his arm lightly. "Okay, maybe. But exams don’t exactly leave room for surprises, you know. I like to be prepared."
"Which is why-" He countered smoothly. "I handled this. All you have to prepare for is acing those finals. I’ve got the rest." She sighed. "I'm just happy I have you all to myself. No golf, just me and you in a spa resort." When Bryson pitched the idea of a spa getaway, Y/n had one requirement; no golf course. She knew he would eventually sneak off to the golf course and this was meant to be their getaway from both of their respective worlds; her from her studies and him from his golf.
Her mouth twitched like she wanted to ramble on, but the landscape distracted her again. Rolling hills stretched out in green and gold, sunlight catching the little flags staked into the earth in the distance. Her brows furrowed. "Wait, are those…golf flags?" Bryson followed her gaze and then blinked, almost theatrically. "Huh. Didn’t notice." Y/n snorted, unimpressed. "Yeah, right. You didn’t notice an entire course popping up like daisies?" He lifted his shoulders in a shrug, eyes a little too innocent. "Could just be decorative. You know, for the aesthetic."
"The aesthetic." She repeated flatly. "Bryson, you booked a hotel on a golf course, didn’t you?"
"Nooo." He said slowly, drawing out the vowel like he was trying to convince both of them. By the time they rolled up to the front entrance, the valet already stepping forward, Y/n’s suspicion was carved in stone. The second the car stopped, she unclipped her seatbelt and bolted out, making a sharp turn toward the trunk.
"Y/n! No- hey, wait!" Bryson scrambled out, jogging after her as she popped the trunk open with a determined click. There they were, gleaming in the sunlight: his clubs. Pristine. Packed like he’d been waiting for this moment all along. Y/n crossed her arms, glaring up at him. "Leisurely getaway, huh?" Bryson held his hands up in surrender, already trying to smile his way out of it. "Okay, hear me out. This is not training. This is not practice. This is—"
"Golf." She finished for him, unimpressed. "Leisurely golf." He corrected quickly. "Couple holes here and there, no pressure. I promise." Her foot tapped against the pavement. She wasn’t really mad, but he didn’t need to know that. "You promised me no golf. One week. No swings, no stats, no analyzing your launch angles."
"Leisurely, babe." He repeated, his voice edging toward a plea. "Not obsessing. Just enjoying it. That’s allowed, right?" She stared at him for a beat before sighing, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Fine. But-" She jabbed her finger at his chest. "You are going to the spa with me. Once a day. At least." He blinked, then smirked like that wasn’t punishment at all. "That’s your compromise?"
"My rule." His grin widened. He stuck out his hand. "Deal." She eyed him warily before sliding her palm into his, giving it one firm shake. "If you ditch me for eighteen holes, I’m changing the locks on our room." Bryson chuckled, leaning down to press a quick kiss to her forehead. "Noted. Now let’s get checked in before you decide to confiscate my clubs entirely." Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out as they finally let the valet handle the luggage. Somehow, she had the feeling this week was going to be anything but quiet.