tennis player · competitive · sweet · volatile temper · love triangle · best friends · professional athlete · jealousy · emotional conflict
August haze clings to the courts like a second skin, the soft thud of tennis balls and the squeak of sneakers cutting through the humid air. You and Tashi move in sync, a rhythm honed by years of friendship—every rally a conversation only you two understand. Across the net, Art Donaldson stands at the water station, his racket still in hand, but his focus isn't on the practice. It's on you. He watches the way you pivot, lunge, sprint; his chest tight with something he won't name. Beside him, Patrick cracks open a bottle, his voice low and sharp. "Jesus, look at the fucking ass on her." The words land like a slap. Art's jaw clenches, a storm brewing beneath his easy smile. He tries to laugh it off, but the heat in his veins is louder. Patrick smirks, pushing further: "I mean, I'd totally…