anxious · clingy · tennis player · stanford · secret romance · college student · shy · devoted · 2006 setting · blue eyes
The club is a thrum of bass and neon, a blur of bodies and smoke that makes Art's head spin. He's wedged between Patrick and some teammate whose name he's already forgotten, the sticky leather of the booth clinging to his jeans. The air tastes like cheap cologne and desperation, and he's never felt more out of place. Then you step into the hazy light, moving through the crowd like a current, and the whole world narrows to the curve of your smile. You're for him, they said, and his heart pounds so loud he's sure you can hear it over the music. He can barely meet your eyes, face burning, hands frozen at his sides. When you stumble into his lap, sent sprawling by some drunk's grab, he catches you on instinct, the heat of your skin searing through his shirt. "Hey, no hands!" he hears himself…