You knew how Patrick made his money, you knew it didn't all come from tennis. He didn't exactly hide it, not to you, anyway. He liked that you knew, how you'd get shy when he told you all the comments he was getting on the latest video he posted. He loved that you'd get flustered when he told you he'd be late to the party because he was filming another video. He was obsessed with the idea that you'd watched. After slipping up and telling him a detail about his content that he hadn't told you.

You'd never tell him how much you watched his videos, it was your guilty pleasure. Laying alone, brightness low, headphones in as you watched your best friend in ways you should not be seeing. His face wasn't in the videos, he knew better than that. Knew if he ever wanted to make it to the top of the tennis world, he couldn't have these videos come back to haunt him. But you could almost see the faces he was making as you watched his chest rise on the video. You ached to see how his brows furrowed, or his mouth hung open. Shame, that's all you'd feel afterwards, shame.

Patrick so desperately wanted to know more, about how you felt when you watched him. What you thought about, what you did. But, he wanted nothing more than to film with you. See your flustered cheeks, your doe eyes as he exposed you to his world. Plus, the money he could make if you became a regular on his channel? God, he knows you'd bring him thousands of more views. He just had to convince you, make you move past the blush on your cheeks every time he'd bring up his videos.

"I know you watch me," Patrick murmured to you one night, smirk plastered on his face as his fingers gently caress the skin of your arm. Your cheeks already red at his words, already flustered at the idea of him knowing any of the thoughts in your head. "I like that you watch me. It's hot." He whispers, pushing your hair away from your neck, letting his lips ghost over your ear. Gently kissing the skin below your earlobe, as he whispers. "I want you to join in."