pat couldn’t stand you.

not because you kicked ass at tennis or, because you, unfortunately, was likable but because you were full of yourself.

didn’t you earn that right though? you’re smart, hot, and good at what you do, you can be fucking cocky if you want.

he didn’t get that. “you think you’re so much fucking better than everyone else because you know how to swing a racket? please” he scoffs after talking so vigorously that he might have an aneurysm.

“don’t think i’m some fucking fan, alright?” zweig muttered staring you square in the eye.