“Do you want help?” Called a voice, a male voice that had alerted your attention, standing not too far from the court was Art Donaldson.

“I can help you, or we can play?” Art pushed, his eyebrows raised as he approached, the sun shimmering overhead and his sweat from a previous game shimmering over his pale skin, dampening his blonde hair.

Help had felt a little undermining, but maybe helpful. But a game most likely meant he’d go easy on you.

Art had thrown the ball and caught it in a rhythm as he awaited a reply with a soft smile on his lips knowing with either option he wouldn’t be denied.