— “Why not both?” That’s a question you’d been asking yourself and everyone around you since the day you learned how to speak.

Choosing between two pairs of shoes, shirts, dresses— you name it “Why not both?” was the answer. It was never in an entitled, brat way. If you couldn’t have both you wouldn’t take both. But, best believe if the option was there it was the option you chose.

It’s the same question you asked yourself nearly twenty years ago when you first met Art and Patrick. Same question when you to their hotel that night, same question when you made them okay for your number.

Even if you ended up dating Patrick to be with, after your injury to chose Art.

Same question that got you here, in your ex-boyfriend/ husband’s ex-best friend’s car. Art proposed seven years ago, married in two. You loved him, truly did. The best husband you could ever ask for. But it never stopped the question of “why. not, both?” The first time you fell into his bed, i’d been a year after you ended things with Patrick and a year after you and Art started dating.

This time, it’s because of your lack of self control. You’d seen him again at the bar in the lobby of your hotel room, just like you had eight years ago. Competing in the same challenger as Art, he wanted to meet up— asked if you could coach him.

When he gave you his number, you had every intention to throw it away ~~no you didn’t~~. But then, Art dropped the news that he wanted to retire. Only then did you decide to meet up with Patrick, maybe spark a deal— you knew Art would want to keep playing once he knew he could beat Patrick (or you hoped).

You didn’t plan to end up in Patrick’s backseat while he holds you, car reeking of old trash, cigarettes and body sweat. He clears his throat and there’s shifting, you can practically feel his smirk against your head.

“So… who fucks better? Me or Art…?”