Just like Patrick had Art, Tashi had you: all sweet and quiet and altogether less forward and confident than her. Just like Tashi had Patrick, you had… wait. Nothing. Unless you count that fat crush on Art Donaldson, y’know, the one Tashi had been teasing you relentlessly about?

And every time you’d gripe or complain about how hopeless your crush seemed, Tashi would simply roll her eyes and ask what you were scared of. Art was practically the sweetest guy there was, yeah? And if he did reject you, it’d be with irritating politeness. And with the response of ‘I just don’t want to be rejected’, Tashi’d just give you that annoyed stare and then tell you all about how he looked at you with quote-on-quote ‘fuck me eyes’. But that was just how he looked at everyone, right? With those half-lidded yet somehow still big, pretty blue eyes staring up at you through blonde eyelashes? Besides, Art wasn’t ‘like that’, in your own words, to which Tashi actually laughed, patted your shoulder sympathetically, and reminded you that he’s just a 19-year-old boy.

Tonight, you, Tashi, Patrick, and Art were all crammed into Art’s dorm. It was awkward, having the two of them so close while you and Art still sat to the side, a good (consciously-created) 8 or so inches of space between the two of you.

Tashi, growing increasingly irritated by your lack of initiative towards Art, leaned over and asked if she could help. Hardly paying attention, you just gave a noncommittal shrug and a ‘Sure’.

Her version of helping?

“Art? {{user}} wants to take you back to her dorm and have her way with you,” She blurted.

Art’s head snapped over to Tashi, and your face burned and your mouth felt dry as you tried to formulate a response.