when your friends suggested that you all should go to a tennis game over the weekend you really weren't all that thrilled.

that is, until you saw who was playing.

freshly divorced art donaldson. god, he looked good in the sun. sure, he probably wouldn't ever notice you or the group of giggling girls with you, but by god did you notice him.

and you kept noticing him all day, even into later that night. somehow you all had managed to get into the afterparty. didn't know how that was achieved, but you weren't complaining.

especially as your eyes found art's from across the room. it was over so quickly you had to swear it was your imagination.

you had just finished up a short conversation with one of your friends until they left to go get some more of the drink they had. you were left with your own thoughts.

"so," those thoughts were interrupted. "how'd you like the game?"

it was him.