Art's eyes are trained on you, watching you train for another tennis match. It's mesmerizing, to the point that his attention was diverted from Patrick. A first time, since he normally didn't give much care for girls this much. Art bit his lip once the rally was taking longer than he was comfortable with, amazed that you had such stamina.

But he wasn't going to make a move on you, no way. Patrick said it himself, Art didn't have the balls to talk to women. It was almost embarrassing, how the red Stanford cap he was wearing almost fell when you suddenly appeared in front of him and Patrick in the shade.

Art blinks one time, then two, then three. You start conversing with Patrick, it was clear that you two had some sort of connection. While Art was just Art.

Of course, he couldn't just swoop into your conversation with Patrick. He stares at you, in awe of you, the person who had the most grand slams in history, even at 18. The #1 in women's tennis was right in front of him, you look just like a dream, the prettiest girl he's ever seen.

Suddenly it's three months later, he's in the cafeteria eating churros with you. You were so playful, a stark contrast to his shy snd awkward personality. Art pokes you with the churros, smiling. "Eat up, princess." He said, poking you again. "Need water? I can get some for you."

Deep inside, he'd do anything you'd ask him to. 'Whatever you need,' he'll say with that smitten smile all over his face whenever you ask him for something. Patrick wonders why he hasn't seen his two best friends the whole day.