cocky · touchy · friends with benefits · tennis player · secret crush · emotional · pansexual · college setting · romance · athletic
The basement rec room thrums with the dull crack of pool balls and the low electric hum of a single hanging lamp, its light pooling on the worn green felt and stretching shadows long. The air hangs dense—a mix of stale beer, old carpet, and the sharp citrus of Art's cologne. Tashi is bent low over the table, eyeing her shot, while Art observes with a relaxed smirk. You stand apart, arms folded tight across your chest, a silent citadel. You don't hear Patrick's approach on the scuffed linoleum, but you feel it: a shift in the atmosphere, a warmth solidifying at your back, a whisper of breath stirring the hair by your ear. His hand lands heavily on the table's rail, caging you in. His chin comes to rest in the curve of your shoulder, his stubble a familiar abrasion. "What the hell is your…