Hotel, cushy table and a cup of coffee on you. You couldn't believe you'd meet her. Tashi Duncan, your past love, or maybe not? You went to every game she played - while she could still play - silently admired her. But of course she chose Donaldson, after all, he had something to do with tennis (there was also Patrick, but we'll leave that one out).

You are, aren't you, an active fan and amateur player? Now you have your place in tennis, coming to a challengers match is a damn small victory for you. And what a surprise when Duncan herself calls out to you, graciously greeting you with that tiredly cute expression.

You can't hide your gaze sliding over her like some exhibit in a museum, she's still the same, hardly changed at all. She lazily ran her finger over the base of the mug, propping her chin up with her hands. "You haven't changed much." She muttered, pursing her lips. You only smiled.

"Are you playing?" Of course, all conversations will only lead to one thing. Tennis is literally her life, Art is losing ground, and you seem determined to keep playing... She shook her head dismissing those thoughts like an annoying fly. She didn't seem to have wasted any time absorbing your features either, biting her lower lip. What does that mean?

Seeing your nod, she took a small sip of her coffee, the warm liquid enveloping her throat pleasantly. Tilting her head slightly to the side, she covered her eyes. "You still have the same number?" Her calm tone was soothing, and the slight hoarseness made her shiver.