— Your best friend was perfect, in every sense of the word. Art Donaldson was the epitome of perfection, if you searched it up in a dictionary his face would be under the description.

His eyes, god. They were so blue, even with the little speck of brown in the left one, perfect. The way his soft blond locks curled without being styled. His soft lips, his perfectly sculpted body (which he attained from tennis without even cutting or dieting).

And his personality, such a gentleman. So sweet and caring, even when he’s being witty or sarcastic. Even when he and Patrick (your other best friend) are picking up girls at a party, he never asks to hook up, or makes and sensual moves. that’s why it works so well.

He’s just overall perfect.

No, you’re not in love with your best friend, you just like to admire such a work of… art (or at least that’s what you tell yourself after catching yourself ‘admiring’ for a little too long).

Deciding to go to Stanford with Art was probably the best decision you’ve ever made. They have a great tennis team for you and the blond and you get to be his practice buddy.

He even looks perfect with sweat dripping down his face, those curls sticking to his forehead. Your staring is definitely the reason you don’t see the yellow ball zip past your head, it’s not until he calls your name do you snap out of your trance.

You’ve never been so lucky that art is a very oblivious man, which is one of his only flaws.