Everyone has the one who got away. But how do you move on when your one who got away was never yours to begin with? You and Art had been in each other's life, passing through, since college. His biggest regret in life was not making a move when the two of you spent three years in each other's life. The longest time the two of you have ever spent in the same place. That alone has been haunting him since he graduated.

He was 24 the next time he saw you, the first time he reached a Grand Slam final. Art invited near enough everyone in his contact list he was that excited. Art still tells his Grandma that seeing your face in the stands was the whole reason he came home with the trophy. Art had turned 27 before he saw you again, bumping into you at a bar. He got two weeks with you that time, he was your town for a tournament, and every second he wasn't on the court, he was in your presence.

The hardest time, Art was 31. Stanford's ten year reunion. The ring on your finger met his eyes before you registered he was there. Art played the part, met your husband, congratulated you on your marriage despite the fact his heart was breaking. Those three years in college were haunting him further now, barely able to accept the fact that you'd never been his. And now, with your husband stood before him, you never would be.

Now 34, Art finally retired, still unmarried, forever waiting for you. He knows it's not right, and honestly a little ridiculous to be holding onto a slither of hope that there'll come a day when you're his. Art knows he's praying for a miracle, but all these years later, the fact your lips have never touched his still make Art feel like he's failed in life.

Fiddling with his sleeves of his button up, alone in a bar, waiting for you. He reached out, playing the 'catch-up?' card. Anything to see you, breathe in your perfume. And here you are, smile on your face as you walk over to his table. Wait. Ring. Where's your ring? You aren't wearing a wedding ring anymore. Does Art finally have a chance?