CHAPTER 200: CHAPTER 200: THE GOLFING WITH FATHER

~Evric’s POV~

I smiled, acknowledging the truth in his statement, and we both headed into the bathroom.

After our shower, we dressed and went downstairs for a quiet meal before heading back up. Once we were upstairs, Zayn immediately tried to collapse back into bed.

"No, don’t sleep yet," I stopped him, gently tugging his arm.

"I want to sleep," he protested. I persisted, begging him to stay awake with me. Finally, he gave in with a tired sigh.

"Fine," he conceded. "Entertain me then, so I don’t fall asleep."

"What do you want me to do?" I asked, already planning.

"Dance, maybe," he suggested.

"What type of dance?"

He smirked, resting his chin on his hand. "Anyone you’re good at."

"I could be a stripper," I suggested, winking. I retrieved my phone and put on some music, then spent the next ten minutes giving him a ridiculous, overly dramatic performance, punctuated by hip thrusts and badly executed spins. Zayn lay on the bed, laughing and cheering, completely delighted.

But even my best efforts couldn’t conquer his post-coital exhaustion. After the performance and all the ensuing laughter, Zayn still quickly fell asleep. He never missed that sleep after sex.

Once he was out, I buried myself in work. I opened my laptop and attended to several files James had sent, allowing myself to focus until the late afternoon.

Finally, as the light outside softened into evening, Zayn woke up.

"Time to get dressed," I told him. "We need to head out to meet Father. He messaged me a while ago asking if I was still coming."

"Okay," Zayn murmured, instantly compliant now.

We dressed, and once ready, we headed downstairs. My driver was already waiting beside the car. Zayn and I slid into the backseat, and the car pulled smoothly onto the road toward Father’s location.

As we were driving, I took out my phone and quickly snapped a picture of Zayn, capturing him unawares as he gazed out the window. When he noticed, he smiled.

"Just ask if you want to take my picture," he teased.

I smiled back. "Baby, let’s take a selfie."

We took several, laughing at the bad angles. I shared them with him. I then posted the unaware picture I took and a few others on my social media that didn’t show our faces fully.

"You like to post things like this," Zayn commented, smiling.

"Yes, I do," I confirmed. "And I can’t wait to post your full face."

Zayn didn’t reply to that, he only smiled, leaving the future of his public debut hanging in the air.

A short while later, the car glided to a stop at the entrance of Father’s private golfing estate, a sprawling, perfectly manicured sanctuary reserved for family. It was less a club and more a compound designed for discrete, high-stakes relaxation.

I took hold of Zayn’s hand as we stepped out and walked toward the viewing lounge overlooking the main green. I needed everyone to see the commitment, and perhaps, I just needed to feel the warmth of his fingers in mine after the chaos of the morning.

We hadn’t gone ten feet inside when I spotted Evans and Chrisly, already seated with Father.

Chrisly spotted us instantly, his eyes catching the obvious connection of our joined hands. He threw up his hands in mock despair. "Look at this! Father only invited you to come play golf, and you still can’t come alone. You’re just making sure single people regret staying single, aren’t you, Evric?" he teased.

"I didn’t ask anyone to be single, Chrisly," I shot back, a playful smile touching my lips. "Please let me enjoy my relationship. Maybe you should find someone so you can stop being bitter."

The banter was quick and easy, a natural rhythm of brotherly teasing. We walked closer to the group. Zayn and I greeted Father, and he returned the gesture. "How are you, son?" he asked Zayn, who greeted him politely and respectfully.

I directed Zayn to sit down next to Evans, then turned back to Father, allowing my possessive streak to show. "I thought you only invited me to come play with you, Father. Why are there other people?"

"Who are the other people?" Evans interjected from the bench.

"I didn’t mention names," I replied, smirking.

Father chuckled, but his voice carried a mild warning. "Evric, don’t be rude."

"Father, I’m just joking," I said, offering a charming smile.

He scrutinized me then, his gaze thoughtful. "You’ve really added weight, Evric. Looks like Zayn is just feeding you all the time."

I didn’t try to hide my pleasure at the observation. "Yes, Father. Zayn’s job is to take care of me."

Soon after, we moved to the first tee box. Chrisly immediately started complaining. "I knew it, Father! I knew that if Evric arrived, you would put him over us! Didn’t we get here first?"

Evans cut in smoothly. "Since you know it already, why are you complaining? Just enjoy the game."

Father smiled, shaking his head at their antics. "Chrisly, come here."

So, Father, Chrisly, and I took the first few shots, with Evans and Zayn settling down together on a nearby bench. But those two seemed to get along too well.

As the game started, my mind was not on the swing or the trajectory of the ball. Evans and Zayn were deep in conversation, and I could hear Zayn’s laugh ringing out clearly from a distance. The easy, unforced sound pierced through my concentration. I seriously couldn’t focus.

It wasn’t long before both Chrisly and Father noticed my lack of attention.

The next thing I heard was Father’s voice, direct and knowing. "Are you jealous?"

I turned, looking sharply toward Father.

"Jealous?" I scoffed, forcing a light, incredulous laugh. I immediately reached for my club. "Why would I be jealous? I just can’t focus with all that noise coming from the bench. Are we going to play, or are we going to stand here and watch them have their fun?"

Father simply raised an eyebrow, a familiar look of amusement playing on his lips. "It’s a quiet game, Evric. And they seem to be discussing something very animatedly." He glanced from Zayn, who was laughing with his head tilted back, to me. "But fine. Let’s play. You focus on the ball, son. Not the audience."

Chrisly, always eager to stir the pot, chuckled. "Don’t worry, Evric. Evans is just asking Zayn about recipes. He’s trying to get tips for his boyfriend ."

"Recipe my foot! Just shut up, Chrisly!" I snapped.

Father cleared his throat, his expression serious now. "Evric, remember, Evans is your brother."

I sighed, attempting to defend myself without resorting to a complete lie. "Father, I’m not jealous," I insisted, my eyes glancing involuntarily toward the bench where Zayn was still laughing. "I just don’t like other men getting close to my man."

Father and Chrisly simultaneously burst out laughing, their amusement echoing across the green.

Father managed to speak between laughs. "Did you realize you just said you are jealous now, Evric?"