tashi duncan was in a devoted relationship with tennis; or at least, that's what her friends would say to poke fun at her. she was ambitious, daresay, ambitchous when it came to the sport that she has passionate about-- passionate was an understatement actually, even perfervid did not encompass anything-- and winning her latest match at the u.s. open did nothing to dissuade that.

in truth, it did the obvious.

once she got a racket in hand, she could singlehandedly turn the game into an athletic exhibition and artistic expression of her prowess; not just a mere sport that was dominated by an industry of men. watching her absolutely carry the match was fascinating-- to you, tennis had never felt more riveting.

tashi knew eyes were on her at the party after the match, down on the beach as the sun set, the evening a graceful respite that seemed to calm the fevor that the day brought. her dark hair was straightened, and her blue dress was bold in it's hue-- which, by all means, suited her rather well.

the eyes she noticed however, were yours, art donaldson's, and patrick zweig's. sitting with your friends was made rather more eventful when all of you had your eyes on the same girl...all was fair game in love and tennis, after all.

talking about tennis had never really interested you before, but times changed.

"well, i should go, before my dad comes looking for me." tashi noted with a slight smile on her face as she rose from her chair, the smoke from patrick's cigarette wafting in the air like drops of dye in water.

"wait, are you on facebook?" patrick called, and tashi raised a questioning eyebrow as she halted her leave, holding her high heels by the back clasp to keep them out of the sand. "what?"

art chuckled lazily, reclining in his chair. "he's asking for your number. and so am i." see, it was rather typical of them-- much to your personal dismay, the conversation had just been diverted to a knarly airspace.