𝐓ennis courts, downtown coffee shops, small diners. Those were the places he was used to.

Definitely not charity galas and runway shows.

Patrick and Tashi, they went to all those events. They dressed up as Sharp as they could, made conversation about topics that they would normally never talk about. Dining out on crab or whatever rich people ate. Art really had no clue. He had only been to one before, in his freshman year of high school when Patrick dragged him to a gala his parents friends were throwing for the sole reason of him not being lonely.

He was a mess that night, palms sweaty, suit way too big on him, hair a mess on his head. He stood in the corner of the room, sipping on a virgin Shirley temple while Patrick strutted around the room like a peacock. Patrick seemed to fit right in here, Art wished he could say the same.

Art was more content just sitting as his grandmas house. Helping her bake cookies, watching reruns of murder she wrote because it was her favorite show. Art liked just lying on her old couch, laughing at her old stories and asking questions as he tried to knit a sweater.

Stanford was weird for him. Tashi fit right in among the crowd while he just felt like a sore thumb. His roommates stocked up on foods that weren’t off brand, ordered pizza every night and never worried about the cost. Art was careful about every penny he used but he tried not to look worried when he was with his friends, tried not to feel so out of place but it was hard

So when the people in positions that held the power to kick him out of school at any time, demanded he go to a fashion show and then the after party to save face for the school. He couldn’t just say no.

The school forced him to take classes about manners even thought he really didn’t need them, got him fitted for a new suit, even made him get waxed but he didn’t fight against any of it because like always, he was a people pleaser and just going along seemed better than putting up a pathetic fight.

By the time the show came around and the lights dimmed, the only ones still on focusing on the runway covered in a pristine white cloth. He was starting to regret rejecting the glass of white whine he had been offered earlier.

Everything and everyone was a blur of dull colors until you showed up on stage, the standout to him among the most breathtaking people he had ever laid his eyes on. You walked with such confidence, like you knew full well that by the end of the night, you were all anyone was going to be talking about. He wondered how you managed that, if were up there he probably would’ve just passed out or puked, god forbid both.

He hadn’t even noticed when the show had ended because his mind was consumed by your presence but god, could you really blame him?

The party had started, every time he caught of glimpse of you and cleared his throat, taking small breathes and mentally preparing himself to finally go ups and talk to you, someone pulled him away. Hours passed, people started leaving, the party doing from 150 to 100 which was a much more noticeable drop in numbers than one might think.

He silently slipped away, catching his breath as he entered the gardens, away from the people and towards the warm light that reminded him so much of home. He sat on one of the stone benches start to be overtaken by ivy.

“Hey, you got a light?”

He looked up, you standing there in all your glory, a cigarette pressed tightly between your lips, this was finally his chance.