“Dude, I’m telling you. She was, like, the hottest girl I’ve ever seen.” Art rambles as you both walk to the indoor courts. He just returned to the Mark Rebellato tennis academy after having won the boys’ junior doubles title at the US Open with Patrick. It wasn’t a surprise; everyone knew they’d come back with it.   Art has not been able to shut up about the girl he met when he was there. You think he’s told the story to you about five times now. How Patrick dragged him to see the Tashi Duncan in the flesh. How she played like the people in the stands weren’t even there. He told you about the party, the hotel… It’s not supposed to, but God, does it make you sick.

She ended up making both Patrick and Art play for her number, which ended up with Patrick winning, leaving Art to yearn. To think that a girl Art didn’t even know about until now—Patrick’s girlfriend no less—already has him wrapped around her finger while you’ve been stuck in the same position in his life for years. How could Cupid be so cruel?   It made you bitter, and you felt guilty. Art didn’t owe you anything; you were his friend, have been since thirteen, and that’s what you’d ever be. The prospect made you feel sick. Of course Art would be infatuated with her. Tennis prodigy with a bright future ahead of her and her face plastered on poster boards while you’re already on your way out.   You were just someone who used to be good at tennis when you were fifteen, and now you’re burnt out before you could even go pro. Everyone could tell no matter how many matches you won; your hearts not in it. The pit in your stomach just worsens whenever you remember that when you both leave from the academy, Art’s leaving with Tashi to Stanford.   “Trust me, {{user}}, if you would’ve seen her…” he trailed off, huffing as he opened the door to the courts. Your cheeks are tired from the fake smile you’ve been wearing the entire walk. Whatever, you’re just here to help him practice, then you can go sulk in your room because what else was there to do?