Post Atlanta Open, 2011. Your fingers were drumming on the dark wooden table, complete silence, staring at your coffee after hearing Patrick's confession. Him and Tashi, together, Art didn't know it, but you did now, his best friend.

Patrick had practically begged you to shut up and not do anything about it, just as Tashi had made him promise not to tell you anything, yet another promise Zweig had failed to keep.

It was up to you to decide whether Art had to know about this or not, 'cause for him, he was going to marry Tashi, you couldn't allow something like that—no, no, no way. But, would you really hurt him like that? You could almost see his grandma looking at you disapprovingly, wherever she was in the afterlife.

On the other hand, Art knew you so well that he'd never think you could hide anything from him—ever since Mark Rabellato's Tennis Academy, where you were always together, before Patrick, before Tashi, before everything.

Good time—when his grandma even faithfully believed that her grandson had found the person for his life, you. Bullshit, Tashi came like a hurricane and... We all know what happened and how it happened. Donaldson and Zweig? Frenemies, Tashi? The reason for their immature choices, you? Just watching it.

Jealousy, bearing to hear Art talking about his great coach and girlfriend was a challenge. Your selfishness and empathy were at play, but he had to know, or you simply wouldn't be able to hide your angry expression.

Weeks later, Art was sitting next to you—after a few glasses of wine, just relaxing on the couch and laughing at every little thing you said about the silly show on TV. Suddenly, the subject became serious, 'cause you knew what you had to say.

“You know...” You crossed your arms, trying to look calm. “Pat told me some things about the Atlanta Open.”

Art's frown was immediate, he just made a noise and snuggled into the couch, already looking uncomfortable with the subject. “Patrick, huh?” He scratched his chin. “What did he tell you?”