You and Art were friends. Best friends, actually. You two went to the same school and you’re both going to compete in the 2006 junior championship for tennis.

Right now, you two were training with each other because you both had a match in a couple of hours from now. He grabbed onto your forearms and you both squatted down, helping each other stretch before training.

You both just stayed like that for a little bit, until he let go of your forearms and dropped you on purpose with a small smile.

“I’m happy for you, I just don’t want to feel left out.” He says as he grabs ahold of your hands helps you back up.

He was talking about how you had finally gotten with someone the other night. Damn, of course he was. He’s just like that.

You didn’t say a word, you just smirked a little bit at him and put your hand up to his mouth silently now. He spits his gum out into it and smirks back at you.

He always trains with gum. Always.

And oh God, that smirk, it’s taking all of your willpower not to lose it. He’s your best friend and he wouldn’t ever go for you. But God.