Third Person's POV.
Gemini's first day at the Crestwood Greens was less about learning the nuances of the pro shop's inventory and more about navigating the bizarre social dynamics of its clientele. He arrived for his shift—which had been flexibly scheduled around his classes, thanks to his new employer—feeling a mix of nerves and cautious optimism.
The optimism quickly gave way to a persistent, unsettling awareness. The facility's members, a collection of wealthy, retired, and influential individuals, seemed to view him as less of an employee and more of a new, fascinating fixture. Specifically, they were obsessed with his looks and by his looks, they mean his eyes.
"Young man, are you new here? You simply must come tell me where you get those contacts," a distinguished, white-haired woman demanded within the first hour, hovering over the counter while ignoring the golf ball display. "They're utterly electric."
He spent close to thirty minutes telling her those were his real eyes and not colored contacts. Then, another one, an older gentleman whom Gemini learned was a former judge, insisted on leaning in close to pay for his club cleaning, his gaze fixed on Gemini's face. "Your parents are lucky to have you, son. Absolutely striking. Tell me, do you play? We could use a beautiful caddy."
That interaction gave him goosebumps.
By lunchtime, Gemini felt like he was working in a museum where he was the exhibit. It wasn't malicious, just unnerving. Every interaction seemed to begin and end with a compliment about his eyes, his hair, or his generally "beautiful" appearance. It was exhausting trying to maintain professional composure while fending off personal inquiries. It felt as if everyone wanted a piece of him, if only to stare or comment.
Mid-shift, during his scheduled break, Gemini managed to step outside and call Ohio.
"You are not going to believe how my day is going," Gemini sighed into the phone.
"Try me, Bunny. Your new laptop didn't spontaneously combust from being in the same room as your old one, did it?" Ohio's voice was teasing as usual.
"No, it's much worse. I got a new job," Gemini said flatly.
Ohio paused. "What? You just started that store job. Did they fire you already?"
"Nope, I quit. I started this new job today at the Crestwood Greens," he clarified.
Silence met his announcement, followed by a sharp, incredulous gasp.
"The Greens? That super-exclusive, members-only golf course that you need a special pass to get into?" Ohio exclaimed. "Are you serious? This is Percy's doing, isn't it?"
"It's is. I literally met his Uncle last night, who owns the place by the way, and I was hired on the spot. It was the most ridiculous experience of my life," Gemini explained, leaning against a sun-warmed wall.
Ohio let out a burst of excited, disbelieving laughter. "Oh, Bunny. I've said this before, I swear, you are living a reality TV show! You went from a broken laptop just yesterday to a new job at a billionaire's club in just twenty-four hours, all thanks to your super handsome, mysteriously wealthy sugar daddy! This is insane! The pay must be huge!"
Gemini chuckled at Ohio's insistence on calling Percy his sugar daddy, but the laughter faded as he remembered the constant compliments from old people. "The pay and hours are great. The perks, however, is being relentlessly complimented by everyone who walks in. Apparently, all these old billionaires are obsessed with my eyes."
"Well, yeah, they're amazing! Have you seen your eyes? But seriously? Did you say they're obsessed?" Ohio asked, amusement evident in her voice.
"Obsessed," Gemini confirmed. "It's like I'm a rare, very new attractive zoo animal they can't get enough of."
He went back to work after that and later that evening, the sleek, black, familiar car pulled up to the service entrance of the clubhouse right on time. Gemini climbed in, exhausted but relieved the spotlight was off for the day.
"Rough first day?" Percy asked, his gaze focused on the road as he drove away.
"You have no idea. It's a perfect job, but the members are intense," Gemini admitted, scrubbing his face with his hands.
The conversation lagged for a moment, then Percy spoke again, his voice notably flat.
"Uncle Phillip called me earlier."
"Oh, did he call to check in on my performance? I hope I didn't mess up on my first day," Gemini said, slightly anxious.
"He didn't call to check up on your performance," Percy replied. His grip seemed tighter on the steering wheel. "He just made sure to inform me, in great detail, about how fascinated the old men and their wives were with the new 'strikingly beautiful young man' in the pro shop."
Gemini instantly understood the subtle shift in Percy's mood. "Oh. That. Yeah, It was constant. I can't say it's the weirdest thing that has ever happened to me. Don't worry about it."
Percy made a low, dissatisfied sound in the back of his throat. He pulled to a stop at a red light, finally turning to look at Gemini, his dark eyes intense.
"It's not just weird. It's invasive," Percy corrected, his tone cool and possessive. "And no, I wasn't exactly excited about hearing that every bored, rich person at my uncle's golf course was fixated on you."
The statement, so direct and lacking any conventional reassurance, left Gemini slightly surprised, yet strangely warmed. It was another glimpse into that fiercely territorial side Mark had warned him about.
"Well, Mark was right," Gemini mused quietly.
"About what?" Percy asked sharply.
"About you being... territorial," Gemini finished, giving him a small smile. "I'm fine, Percy. Just a little bit tired of being stared at all day."
Percy stared for a moment longer, then let out a slow exhale, turning his attention back to the road as the light changed. "That's not going to happen again," he said, pressing the accelerator. "No one is allowed to look at you like that."