Guilty As Sin? (oc version) - solemnarration (2024)

Chapter 1 Chapter Text

SCARSDALE, NEW YORK – JULY 29, 2019

The last thing Blair expected was to get a text from Tashi Duncan asking to meet at her hotel during the Phil’s Tire Town ATP Challenger in New Rochelle. Four weeks from the 2019 US Open and Blair’s attempt at winning her 20th Grand Slam title, the woman who used to be like her sister wasn’t on her mind. Even though she liked to think she’d moved on from the tumultuous relationships that plagued her teens and twenties, one text from Tashi was all it took to throw Blair off her game at practice that day.

UNKNOWN: I need to see you. New Rochelle Ritz-Carlton lobby, tonight. -T

She had to laugh at the universe’s sense of humour.

Tashi was practically around the corner. Blair had been raised in the affluent and perfectly manicured town of Scarsdale, New York, in a lifeless estate her mother earned with her illustrious tennis career. Blair hated every second of it growing up. Ever since she could remember, she promised she wouldn’t end up there. Yet here she was on the estate that her career-long endorsem*nt from Nike practically signed the cheque for. It had a private tennis court where Blair’s father now coached her and was, coincidentally, ten minutes away from her former best friend’s hotel.

Blair didn’t owe it to Tashi to come see her.

After all, she was the one whose venomous words had cut the ties of their friendship in the first place. But that was after Art and Patrick. Their lives had been so different before that fateful night they first met the pair of best friends. Blair agreed to meet Tashi for the sake of a friendship that used to be the only important thing in her life.

BLAIR: I’ll be there at 8pm if you come alone

Her reply came seconds later as if she was sitting by the phone waiting to hear from Blair.

TASHI: Thank you, B. I’ll leave your name at the reception.

– – –

In Blair’s earliest memories, her honey blonde hair is tied out of her face, her tennis shoes are laced tightly, and she’s staring up at her mother as she corrects her posture. She’s holding a Wilson tennis racket, a children’s version of the same model her mother used at Grand Slams in the 70s, and holding back tears. Blair couldn’t have been older than five, and her future was written for her.

Her tennis coaches emphasised to her mother that this stage of tennis training was essential to making the sport fun and fostering a love for the game, and she’d ignored their advice.

The first time tennis was fun for Blair was when she was fourteen years old, and she played a girl named Tashi Duncan at a tennis club match for girls. Her backhand was like thunder, and for once, Blair forgot all of her mother’s perfectionistic laments and realised how exciting the game could be when her opponent truly loved the sport. When Blair won the match, Tashi looked windswept and stunned. While Blair expected Tashi to give her a reluctant handshake before rushing off to regroup with her coach, fourteen-year-old Tashi Duncan had given her a hug and asked to exchange numbers.

“I’ve never played with another real tennis player before,” Tashi gushed when Blair typed her number into her phone. “I can tell you actually understand the game. I look forward to battling it out with you again.”

Neither of them realised that most of their battles would play out off the court or that they’d hurt far more than losing a game of tennis.

Chapter 2 Chapter Text

JUNIOR US OPEN GIRLS’ SINGLES FINAL – SEPTEMBER 9, 2006

Waiting in the entrance corridor that led to the USTA Billie Jean King National Tennis Center, Blair nervously fiddled with the homemade friendship bracelet on her wrist, an anxious habit she picked up over the years. The snapping of the elastic band on her skin distracted her from her spiralling thoughts.

She was a whirlwind of nerves and compulsive overthinking.

Even though she knew with certainty how the match would go that day, she couldn’t shake the anxiety that pulsed through her body before every game.

MOTHER: Duncan’s backhand is going to win her the whole damn Championship if you don’t get your act together.

DAD 🩵: I love you, win or lose. Have fun with Tashi and call me when it’s over! Best of luck. Hugs, Dad.

Making friendship bracelets before big tournaments was a tradition Blair’s dad started when she was eleven. It let her relax before nerve-wracking events and allowed her to spend time with her dad amidst their busy schedules. Surprisingly, it ended up being a fun, creative outlet as well. Blair enjoyed focusing on the details of something other than tennis, and sharing it with her dad only made it more special. Given how many years she had to practise, she was good at creating intricate patterns and now had a vast collection of bracelets. Most of them had her name, Tashi’s name, “Dad,” and the year and location of her favourite tournaments and memories on them.

The bracelets were Blair’s good luck charms, and she was comforted by the weight of the beads on her wrist.

The one she wore that day had a T and B interwoven amongst pretty beads, creating deep pink and white flower shapes. They represented the stargazer lily, Blair’s favourite flower. She made the same bracelet for Tashi to wear during the US Open Junior Championships, and her beads were light and dark purple to represent her favourite flower, the sword lily. The meanings behind their favourite flowers were accurate for their roles in the friendship, given that Tashi’s sword lily – technically not a lily at all but an iris – represented strength, victory, and pride. Blair’s stargazer lily represented innocence, purity, and prosperity. Tashi was the heated tennis champion, while Blair was her gentle, equally successful friend.

The two of them thought it was perfect. Having their favourite flowers be lilies was just one of the many invisible strings that tied the two of them together.

Blair’s father used to say that she and Tashi were the sun and the moon, and she had to agree. Tashi was fiery and outgoing, dominating the tennis world, just as the sun dominated the sky. Passionate and intense. Blair strived out of the spotlight and was introspective in a way that added serenity to their friendship. Warm-hearted and gentle. “The most important part is the balance,” her father would say when Blair grumbled how Tashi’s attributes sounded better. “The sun and the moon represent harmony. Together, they are day and night. Work and rest, visibility and mystery, rationality and emotion. Beginnings and endings.”

Perhaps that was why Blair’s life felt bookended by meeting and falling out with Tashi. It was the beginning and end of her adolescent life and the reason she made such drastic changes when their friendship ended. She couldn’t be the same person without her.

In the corridor, Blair could hear the crowd getting restless. Each shallow breath she took caught in her throat, and her anxious thoughts swirled like a tornado in her mind. The spectators were rightfully excited for the beautiful game of tennis they were promised if Tashi Duncan was playing. The fact that Blair, her talented best friend, was playing in the finals against Tashi had them lapping up the match like they were starved for entertainment. In many ways, Blair supposed they were. The Junior Championships were dull without her and Tashi bringing the heat, and their matches turned the traditional game into a glittering spectacle of excellence.

Somewhere in the stands, Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig nursed disposable soda cups and waited for the match to start.

“Don’t you want to meet Tashi Duncan and Blair Rosenbaum?” Patrick wondered, shocked by Art’s indifference to attending the Adidas party that evening. While Art went to the Junior Girls’ Final to see fresh talent in their sport, Patrick knew something far more exceptional awaited them. Art burped, and Patrick stared in disbelief. “You don’t get it, man. You’ve never seen them in person. They’re in another league,” he insisted.

Art glanced down at where Patrick’s knee pressed against his thigh. “You mean their game?” he asked sarcastically. Knowing Patrick as well as he did, Art was aware of the reason for his best friend’s obsession with Tashi Duncan and Blair Rosenbaum.

“No, I mean they’re the hottest women I’ve ever seen,” Patrick proclaimed. He was buzzing with an excitement Art rarely saw; Patrick was glowing. A devilish grin painted his lips, and his eyes darted across the court regularly in hopes of catching a glimpse of Blair and Tashi.

Answering her nervous prayers, Tashi finally joined Blair in the entrance corridor. “Hey!” She smiled, carefree and confident, like they weren’t about to play in the Junior Championship Final. The sun, Blair thought. She’s the sun. She wondered what it was like to shine so brightly and effortlessly. “Are you ready?” Tashi wondered, linking hands with Blair. Their friendship bracelets touched.

Blair sighed, squeezing her hand as she calmed her nerves. The crowd’s cheers faded in and out, interrupted by intermittent ringing in her ears. Her heart pounded, and she tried not to hyperventilate. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” Blair replied reluctantly. Her doubts and fears were a suppressive weight, glueing her to the spot.

Tashi nodded encouragingly at her. She knew Blair wasn’t as scared about playing the match as incurring her mother’s wrath afterwards. Tashi’s eyes scanned Blair’s expression as if it were the map to the inner workings of her mind. She had a sixth sense when it came to reading her emotions. “You’ve got this, B. You’re a f*cking tennis player, and you’re going to kill it,” Tashi declared, squeezing her hand back. “Don’t let anybody tell you otherwise.”

Tashi inhaled deeply, motioning for Blair to follow her with her free hand. She complied, following Tashi as she exhaled slowly. “I’m a f*cking tennis player,” Blair agreed when she caught her breath, trying to keep her voice from wavering. For now, a voice in the back of Blair’s head reminded her. It’ll all be over soon.

“And we’re going to play some f*cking tennis,” Tashi added.

Blair chuckled. “Thanks, T.”

“Let’s go.”

As they entered the court, the umpire introduced the two of them, “Winner of the Junior Australian Open, Tashi Duncan!” The crowd cheered as Blair and Tashi stepped onto the blue hard court with intertwined hands. “Local star and runner up of the Junior Australian Open, Blair Rosenbaum!”

Blair let the adrenaline rush take over and smiled, waving at her audience as she approached the benches. The applause for her wasn’t quite as blaring as for Tashi, but Blair’s home base of New Yorkers was pleased and proud to have her representing them.

From his seat, Art watched with wide eyes as his breath hitched. He watched Blair’s lips curve into a grin and felt his cheeks and ears heat up. Seeing her had ignited an insatiable fire in his chest, spreading south quickly. Blair was like a masterpiece come to life, with shining honey blonde hair and luminous green eyes, sending a jolt of electricity through his veins and his senses into overdrive. Patrick glanced sideways at him, empathising with the lovestruck expression on his face.

“See you out there,” Blair told Tashi, grinning before parting ways and setting her bag down. Tashi pointed two fingers at her eyes before turning her hand and pointing to Blair, reminding her to stay focused on the game and not let anyone ruin it for her.

It was an appreciated gesture. Tashi had known Blair long enough to notice when her mind wandered anxiously. Blair was reminded that her mother was in the crowd examining her every move; each step she made was deliberately catered to appease her. As long as Blair did what she said and got through the tournament, she could breathe easy. Blair took a few sips of electrolyte water, stretched her body, took deep breaths, and practised the visualisation methods her dad taught her.

Art leaned forward in his seat, eyes trained on Blair and periodically flickering to Tashi as they both stretched. “Holy sh*t,” he murmured appreciatively as the flouncy skirt of Blair’s white Nike tennis dress revealed the curve of her ass when she bent over to touch her toes. Forget a moth to the flame. Art was like a starving, panting dog waiting for his next meal. He and Patrick had been silent since Blair and Tashi walked out, blatantly staring with parted lips, too entranced to clap with the crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this final round match will be the best of three tie-break sets,” the umpire declared for the audience to hear. “To the left of the chair, from the United States, Blair Rosenbaum. To the right of the chair, also from the United States, Tashi Duncan. Duncan won the toss and elected to serve.”

At the umpire’s cue, Blair grabbed her racket and walked behind the baseline. Art’s eyes trailed her, admiring how her hips moved as she sauntered across the court. “f*ck,” he remarked. He didn’t think he’d ever looked at someone and thought they had a sexy walk, yet there he was, helplessly looking to Patrick for an explanation. What was it about her that made her so perfectly captivating? “Patrick…” Art trailed off, powerless to Blair’s elegant charisma.

His best friend only laughed. “Just wait until you see them play,” Patrick warned Art eagerly.

Behind the baseline, Blair closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She envisioned herself flawlessly executing aces and volleys, being deliberate with her movements and not getting hurt. Positive visualisation was something Blair started doing recently when her anxiety got the best of her, but she never pictured herself winning. Not when she played against Tashi.

For a moment, right before the match started, it was just Blair and her best friend smiling at each other from across the court with an unspoken understanding. No matter how it went, they had unwavering love and support for each other. They were beyond rivalry, and tennis connected them rather than drawing a line between them. This was one of Blair’s favourite moments in tennis: the calm before the storm, the moment of anticipation when nobody knew how the match would play out.

Not Blair, though. She always knew.

“First set, Duncan to serve.” The umpire motioned to Tashi. “Ready? Play.”

Nothing could have prepared Art and Patrick for the match they were about to watch.

Blair crouched, waiting for her best friend to serve. Just as it had the day she first met Tashi, her backhand was like a sledgehammer strike each time she vaulted the ball over the net.

“Look at that f*cking backhand,” Art groaned appreciatively at Tashi’s powerful two-handed backhand. Patrick merely shook his head like he couldn’t believe it.

At one point in the rally Blair hit wide, and the ball flew out. The umpire called, “15–love, Duncan.” Everyone applauded the point.

Blair gained the next point when Tashi hit the net. 15–all. Even though Tashi had that lightning-fast backhand, Blair’s rallies were thrilling and beautiful. Tashi took the first game, and then it was Blair’s turn to serve.

This was where she thrived.

Blair bounced the ball on the ground a few times before taking a deep breath, tossing it in the air, and firing it over the net so quickly that Tashi and the audience barely saw it coming. Her serve was quick as a whip, and Tashi couldn’t return it. An ace. A murmur rang through the crowd as the monitor displayed the speed of her serve: 120 miles per hour.

Art nearly whimpered, “Holy f*ck!” He’d never seen a girl his age fire a serve that powerful, precise, and fast. Art shifted in his seat.

Patrick sighed reverently. “I think I just came,” he quipped.

Blair took the first set, 6-4 in her favour. Tashi took the next. The final set had everyone in the stands on the edge of their seats, waiting to see how things went. Blair and Tashi were stuck in a 6-6 tiebreaker, and this next point would decide the game. If Blair won this point, they would play another set to determine the winner of the match. If Tashi won, she would win the US Open Junior Girls’ Singles Championship Final.

There was an electric energy in the air, and Art and Patrick could hear their heartbeats hammering in their ears. The game unfolded remarkably. Everyone held their breaths in anticipation as Tashi served. Blair returned each stroke with precision and power, allowing the thud of the ball to echo through the court intermixed with her grunts.

It was a moment of pure bliss.

For once, Blair wasn’t thinking of her mother or her overbearing expectations of her. All she could focus on was herself, Tashi, and the ball floating between them. The tension was palpable and thick; nobody in the audience knew how they wanted it to go. Tashi was the clear fan favourite, but her losing this point would mean at least another half-hour of watching the two of them play. Nobody could deny that would be a gripping end to the match.

As if ignited by a rush of raw determination, Tashi struck the ball and sent it soaring across the court, kissing Blair’s baseline and winning her the entire match.

With a primal, reverberating roar of passion, Tashi crouched, clenched her fists, and screamed, “Come on!” Her voice echoed through the court, thundering above the crowd cheering for her.

Everyone present knew they’d seen something phenomenal, and they weren’t sure what to do now that it was over.

"Game, set, and match, Duncan. Seven games to six in the final tie break,” the umpire said over the clamour.

Blair laughed, dropped her racket, and shrieked when Tashi leapt over the tennis court to pull her into a hug. Breathless and sweaty, she wrapped her arms around her best friend and giggled deliriously. All her matches with Tashi were fantastic, but this was one of the most riveting. Blair pulled away enough to exchange bright smiles, heart pounding with exhilaration from the intense match. Her spirits were high, mirroring Tashi’s excitement and revelling in the knowledge that they had fun and entertained the crowd. For Blair, that transcended the outcome of the game.

“Now that’s tennis,” Patrick commented, giggling giddily.

Art got to his feet and clapped, speechless.

“Congrats, T! You just won the goddamn Junior US Open,” Blair exclaimed, lightheaded from the adrenaline rush. After the gruelling match, she felt her muscles twitching from the exertion. Her body was drenched in sweat, physically and emotionally exhausted by the demands of the sport she and Tashi dedicated their lives to.

Tashi chuckled, beads of sweat dripping from her temples. “Who cares? You just showed me that you’re not ready to give up on tennis yet,” she retorted, smirking triumphantly. Blair opened her mouth to argue, but Tashi shook her head. “I know you think you want to quit but you haven’t even given yourself a chance yet! Think about it, your mom isn’t going to be riding your ass when we’re at Stanford. You might just fall back in love with it,” she pointed out.

Blair rolled her eyes and smiled fondly at her. Tashi meant well by encouraging Blair to keep up with tennis, but nobody could convince her to keep going.

When Blair and Tashi turned to bow and wave at the crowd, Patrick stood beside Art. “What time did you say the Adidas party was?” Art asked, wonderstruck.

Patrick’s lips curled into a brazen smirk, like a cat that had just caught the canary, and his eyes sparkled with a knowing gleam. “I knew you’d come around.”

– – –

ATLANTA OPEN, GEORGIA – JULY 27, 2019

“We need to get you some more match time, then,” Tashi decided. She and Art were sitting in their hotel room in Atlanta after his crushing defeat by a French teenager. Grabbing her phone, she checked what other tournaments were happening before the US Open.

“I can play Cincinnati,” Art protested, not wanting Tashi to pull him out.

“No. No, you cannot. Not like this,” Tashi disagreed. It wasn’t that she would be embarrassed if Art lost; she loved and respected him more than his wins. It was the fact that she knew he had more in him. More fight and more passion. Tashi just needed to find a way to reignite the flames. “Okay, how about--” she paused. New Rochelle, New York. Around the corner from where Blair Rosenbaum grew up and currently resided. Speaking of reigniting old flames… “How about New Rochelle?” Tashi proposed.

Art’s shoulders tensed. He exhaled shakily, mind immediately going to Blair. Tashi wasn’t oblivious to how her husband had a visceral, physical reaction whenever Blair was brought up. The last time either of them saw her – really saw her up close – was three years ago at the French Open, the year Blair and Art took home the Singles titles. Art and Tashi were invited to the Nike afterparty celebrating Blair’s second French Open Singles win in 2016. Tashi thought Art would faint at the rate he held his breath each time he saw her. His hands clutched the table whenever Blair laughed; it was like his hands itched to reach for her, like a bee drawn to the sweetest flower.

“That’s a Challenger,” Art stammered, trying to change the subject.

Even though he tried to keep his mind off Blair, his thumb subconsciously traced the friendship bracelet on Tashi’s wrist. It was one of the many bracelets Lily made for her, a skill their daughter learned from her father.

Tashi recalled when they were teenagers, and Blair tried to get her to make bracelets with her. She must have convinced her to do it a handful of times, but Tashi never had the patience to focus on anything except tennis and gave up every time.

The only person who ever took the time and care to make Blair a bracelet was Art Donaldson.

Tashi ignored his obvious shift in topic. “Yeah, I know that. It’s in a couple of days. Maybe we can get you a wildcard,” she suggested. Art scoffed quietly, averting his eyes and fiddling with the colourful beads on her bracelet. “Art?” He hummed nonchalantly. “You need to start winning,” Tashi told him firmly. Moments like these made it hard to walk the line between spouse and coach. “Right now, you’re getting crushed by guys like Du Maurier. So we need to go somewhere, where there’s absolutely nobody on the other side of the net who can shake your f*cking confidence. Okay?” Tashi underscored the importance of the Challenger. “That’s why we’re going to--” she glanced at her phone-- “Phil’s Tire Town Challenger.”

Art chuckled. Even when he first started in the professional tennis world, he’d never gone to a Challenger with a name like that. “That’s the only reason we’re going to New Rochelle?” Art asked, smiling knowingly at Tashi.

She didn’t care that he’d caught on to her scheme. “You’re telling me you don’t want to see her?” Tashi retorted, raising an eyebrow at her husband. “If she was right in front of you, you’d just turn around and walk away?” Their silent exchange of glances spoke volumes, acknowledging the unspoken truth that he loved Blair. Amidst the tension, there was a quiet understanding between them. Tashi knew what it was like to have loved and lost Blair. Perhaps not in the same way as Art, but in their friendship that once meant everything to her. “Because I think you’d hold on and never let go of her again,” Tashi argued.

Art couldn’t disagree with her. After all, a man never forgets his first love.

Chapter 3 Chapter Text

ADIDAS PARTY. QUEENS, NEW YORK – SEPTEMBER 9, 2006

“God, this house is huge,” Blair commented as she entered the venue of the party Adidas was throwing for Tashi.

Since it was practically a guarantee that she’d win the Junior US Open, Adidas was justified in going all-out for their rising star. The party took place outside, boasting a dancefloor, string lights, places for photo opportunities, and Tashi’s new trophy displayed for everyone to admire. As her best friend, Blair was undoubtedly biassed, but she thought Tashi deserved it. She was more committed to tennis than anyone Blair had ever met.

Tashi laughed. “I know, right? Still smaller than yours, though.” When Blair shot her an unimpressed look, she grinned and wrapped her arms around her shoulder. “I’m kidding! Your house just looks bigger because it’s so empty and lifeless.”

“That house is anything but empty,” Blair disagreed. “It’s filled to the brim with my mother’s dreams and expectations for me.” Tashi snorted. “Don’t forget the linen closet that holds all my wasted potential.”

“Just a linen closet?”

“Don’t worry, it’s growing by the minute. Soon it’ll take up that whole damn mansion.”

Tashi grinned and shook her head. “Alright, let’s change the subject,” she decided. She knew Blair liked to joke about her poor relationship with her controlling mother, but Tashi wanted her to let loose and have fun tonight. Blair had played such an incredible game that afternoon. Tashi hoped she would be in a good mood regardless of the berating her mother gave her when she lost. “You look unbelievable! I think you may be upstaging me at my own party.”

Blair wore a blush pink Blumarine mini dress that was stunning. It had a feminine silhouette made of a lightweight fabric, with dainty sheer cap sleeves and a delicate silver sequin pattern scattered across the bust. The skirt fell to mid-thigh and had a thigh slit with a white lace trim, which perfectly matched her white heeled Sam Edelman sandals. Blair had styled her hair in soft curls that emphasised the feminine styling and barely had any jewellery on, letting the dress speak for itself.

Chuckling, Blair motioned to Tashi’s gorgeous, shimmery dark blue dress and long locks. “T, you really don’t have to worry about me upstaging you,” she assured Tashi. “I sincerely doubt anyone’s looking at me, and for good reason! You’re absolutely gorgeous.”

The sun and the moon. Tashi’s bright-coloured dress stood out and made a gorgeous contrast with her hair and skin, while Blair’s dress was the most vibrant thing about her. As always, Tashi shined, and Blair was there to facilitate her glow; she was soft and gentle, and Tashi was bold and captivating. Blair’s dress walked the line between playful and elegant, whereas Tashi’s dress was sophisticated and gave her a striking impression. Every choice Blair made to style herself always felt like she was standing in Tashi’s shadow. Not in a negative way, but that was the natural dynamic they fell into.

“You’re gorgeous too, B,” Tashi insisted. “Now come on, we have some celebrating to do!”

After the expected socialising Blair always did at these events, the adults finally let her and Tashi have fun to commemorate Blair’s best friend’s first US Open win. When the DJ played Toxic by Britney Spears, Tashi dragged Blair to the checkerboard dance floor for some well-deserved dancing. Under the lights, they twirled each other around, their combined laughter echoing over the general noise of the party as Blair’s hips swayed to the rhythm of the music. She did her best to let go of the day’s anxiety, moving with carefree abandon and enjoying her time with her best friend.

Tashi beamed at her, noticing how genuine and relaxed Blair’s laughter and body seemed. She was usually tense and anxious, but she’d thrown caution to the wind and basked in the opportunity to have fun. Blair’s face had heated up from the dancing, and her heartbeat was elevated, which made it look like she was soaring. As she swayed gracefully on the dance floor, Art and Patrick’s eyes followed Blair’s every move, captivated by her effortless beauty. Their hearts raced in unison, breaths quickening with admiration and longing. A magnetic pull tugged them towards her, allowing their gazes to linger on Blair like she was the moon in the night sky, bewitching and glowing.

Feeling eyes on her, Blair twirled and spotted two guys with their eyes glued to her and Tashi at one of the nearby round tables. They were unabashedly leering at them with vacant, astonished eyes as they danced together. Pressing her lips together to suppress laughter, Blair leaned closer to Tashi and said, “We have an audience.”

Her eyes sparkled with mirth. She lifted her arms over her head as she danced, spinning in time with the music and taking the opportunity to look at the ogling boys. “My God, that’s the opposite of subtle,” Tashi commented, entertained by their stares. “Just ignore them.”

To egg the boys on, Tashi took Blair’s hand and pulled her closer as a Nelly song started playing. When she began shimmying her shoulders to entertain her, Blair laughed. She spun in a circle and shimmied with Tashi, mirroring her moves. Unconstrained and without much care for how she looked, Blair closed her eyes and let the music take over. Her arms swayed freely above her head, fingers tracing invisible patterns in the air as her hips swayed and feet moved with the pulsating beat of the song. She was lost in a world where nothing else mattered but this joyous celebration of her friend’s success.

Not only that, but Blair believed she had just played her last major Open. Once she started college later that month, she’d be free.

Patrick and Art didn’t care if Blair had noticed them gawking.

Her beauty had them spellbound, and their eyes were enchanted, unable to look away even if they wanted to. The rhythmic beat of the music was synchronised with their hearts, pounding with every pulse as they yearned to dance beside Blair. Patrick sighed happily as the slinky material of her blush pink dress highlighted her figure as she moved, revealing the sheen of sweat on her collarbones and decolletage. When Tashi put her hands on Blair’s waist and pulled her close, it was almost too much for them.

“Oh my God,” Art whispered.

“Oy,” Patrick agreed, shaking his head as he smirked. Art may have been entranced from the moment Blair walked out onto the tennis court, but this was when Patrick decided he had to have her.

As the song faded into the next, Blair and Tashi were panting. Blair fanned her face as Tashi asked, “Drink time?” Nodding in agreement, Blair followed her off the dance floor to the table where they’d left their drinks earlier.

Art and Patrick’s heads followed Blair as she left, bodies stumbling after her when they realised this was their opportunity to talk to her. As she and Tashi sipped their fancy French orange soda, the guys watching them earlier approached.

“Hey!” the first one exclaimed. This boy had dark brown curly hair, a blue polo shirt, and a grin that looked like he meant trouble. “I’m Patrick Zweig.”

The blond in the pink button-up added, “Art Donaldson.”

Tashi smirked at the way they were fawning over the two of them. “I know who you are,” she admitted. Her gaze swept from Art to Patrick, adding, “You’re Fire and Ice, right?”

Art stared at her. “Oh my God,” he said in a low tone.

Patrick, smoother and less easily rattled by pretty girls, happily confirmed, “In the flesh.”

“Of course!” Blair tried not to laugh as she eyed Patrick and recognised him. He was the one with the… unique serve . “How could I forget? Nice game today.”

Blair sat on one of the orange wicker chairs, and Tashi followed suit, crossing one leg over the other. She looked up at the boys through her lashes, wondering, “Which one’s which?”

“What do you think?” Patrick challenged her.

As he and Tashi shared a loaded stare, Blair bit your lower lip, trying not to look as amused as she felt. Guys like Patrick came and hit on Tashi all the time; it wasn’t anything either of them hadn’t seen before. Like always, Blair sat on the sidelines and waited patiently for Tashi to reject whoever took up her time so the two of them could enjoy their evening. She tucked her right ankle behind her left and relaxed against her backrest, watching the events unfold.

“You were f*cking incredible today,” Art complimented. The words practically stumbled from his lips as if he couldn’t help himself. The blond’s deep blue gaze flickered to you. His cheeks reddened when he met Blair’s emerald green eyes, causing her to tilt her head curiously. This was new . Guys barely gave Blair the time of day around Tashi, which was exactly how she liked it. Art’s blatant and visible adoration was different. “Both of you. I’ve never seen anyone serve like that before,” he added.

“Thanks,” Blair acknowledged, lips curving. She leaned forward, placing her hands on her bare thighs and smirking. “I did lose, though,” Blair pointed out, teasing Art. “Don’t you feel bad for me?”

Art stammered, trying to say something clever to match her energy, and Patrick watched curiously. Blair wasn’t at all like he thought she would be. He assumed she would be timid compared to Tashi, but that wasn’t the case. Blair was definitely the more guarded of the two of them, wearing a mask at all times and only letting it slip when she looked at Tashi. Mysterious wasn’t quite the right word, but Patrick thought Blair was intriguing.

She decided to put Art out of his misery. “I’m just messing with you,” Blair promised, relaxing. The co*ke bottle Art was clutching for dear life loosened in his hand. Blair’s eyes on him made him all soft and gooey, and he nearly dropped the bottle.

“It really was amazing,” Art echoed eagerly. “I mean, it wasn’t even like tennis. It was an entirely different game.”

Tashi sipped her drink. “Thank you,” she replied. “You’re going to Stanford, right?”

“Yeah! How’d you know that?” Art asked.

“Um–” Tashi chuckled– “We just accepted our offers and they mentioned you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh!”

Patrick visibly deflated at the mention of college, which Blair clocked right away.

“I’m guessing you aren’t a future Cardinal?” she asked, allowing him to study her expression. The affectionate manner in which she discussed Stanford surprised him, given how insanely talented she and Tashi were.

“No, no–” Patrick shook his head– “I’m just–” he cut himself off. “You guys aren’t going pro? Why waste your time playing college tennis?”

Saving Tashi from having to explain her life decisions to a total stranger, her father walked over to get her attention. “Baby, I need to steal you for a second,” Mr Duncan interrupted. “Over at the trophies.”

“Uh, okay.” Tashi stood and looked down at where Blair was seated. “Are you good here?” she asked, girl code for Are these losers bothering you?

“I’m fine,” Blair promised. “Go look hot with your trophy, okay?”

Tashi chuckled. “You know I will.” She looked between Patrick and Art, watching with amusem*nt as Blair sat there, oblivious to the two guys tripping over their feet to get her attention. It was like watching a game of tennis unfold in real time, except off the court, and Blair was the prize. “It was nice meeting you two,” Tashi said.

“If my mother asks where I am, tell her to follow the sound of disappointment,” Blair called as Tashi left to join her family. With the way her shoulders shook, Blair could tell she was laughing. Now that her comfort person was gone, she felt out of place. She cleared her throat, getting up from her chair. “Well, it was nice meeting you both,” Blair said in lieu of a farewell, setting her drink down and moving to make her escape.

“You know you’re better than all those girls playing college tennis, right?” Patrick interjected before she could leave.

Blair raised an eyebrow. “Actually, I don’t know that. I’ve never actually played any of them before. Guess I’ll find out soon enough, though.”

Patrick chuckled. “Oh, come on. Why put off going pro when you nearly won the Junior US Open?”

“Not that it’s any of your business but I’m not putting anything off. I’m not going pro,” Blair confessed.

“You’re kidding,” Art blurted. At Blair’s unimpressed gaze, he amended, “Sorry, I just mean that I’m surprised. You’re incredible, you could probably be the player of our generation if you wanted to.”

As sweet as the compliment was, the thought of being the face of women’s tennis brought an unsettling discomfort to Blair’s stomach.

She raised a shoulder, shrugging. “That’s just it. I don’t want to.” The breeze ruffled the lightweight skirt of her dress and revealed more of her thighs. The boys stared, and Blair sighed. “Patrick and Art, was it?” They nodded, perking up at her remembrance of their names. “Your interest in my tennis career is both endearing and entertaining, and for that I thank you. But the player of our generation is right there, taking pictures with the trophy she won today.”

They all looked at Tashi. She was a natural in front of the camera, able to charm anyone in the vicinity with a pretty smile.

Art caught Blair’s hand before she could leave. “Hey, wait a second,” he implored.

Blair halted, turning and watching his eyes flicker down to her wrist, where a second friendship bracelet joined the one she’d been wearing throughout the US Open. This one said Tashi’s name and had the number one beside it, celebrating her victory. When he raised his head, Blair felt her breath hitch as she caught his gaze. His eyes were a piercing shade of blue – and slightly brown on his right eye – that seemed to see right through her. Blair felt her cheeks warm. The intensity of his vulnerable eyes made her stomach flutter nervously.

Art’s thumb brushed her wrist and sent shivers down her spine. “I like your bracelets,” he said, smiling. “Did you make them?”

“Uh, yeah. I make them for me and Tashi when we go to tournaments. Or for big events.”

“And she makes some for you? That’s nice.”

“Oh, no. Tashi doesn’t have the patience or desire to do much other than tennis, so I can never get her to sit down long enough to actually complete one.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“So, nobody’s ever made you a bracelet before?”

“Nope,” Blair confirmed.

Art smiled. “Idiots,” he murmured. Blair’s eyes widened in surprise. “Do you really have to go?”

Her growing desire to stay made it clear that she did. “I’ll be watching your match tomorrow,” Blair said, glancing between the boys and pulling her hand from Art’s gentle grip. “I can’t wait to see what Fire and Ice do when they’re up against each other. Though, I already have a pretty good idea.”

Patrick smirked. “Oh really?”

“Anyone who’s ever seen you play knows that you–” Blair looked at Patrick– “Are fire, and you–” she looked to Art– “Are ice.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You play impulsively and passionately. You express yourself through tennis, but not playing defensively enough can be your downfall,” Blair explained.

“It hasn’t been so far,” Patrick gloated.

“That’s because you play people like Art, who play it safe. That’s the only reason he’s never beaten you.” Blair looked between the pair of best friends. “I’m not your coach, so I’m not going to lecture you two. I’m just saying that you might consider learning from each other. It’s why your doubles matches are so electrifying, the combination works.” They both grinned broadly, focused on her praise. “I’m excited to see what happens tomorrow. But for now, I’ll say I enjoyed meeting you,” Blair said goodbye.

Patrick fell onto the seat Tashi had occupied, shaking his head disappointedly as the blonde left them behind.

Art paced beside him, picking at the label of his co*ke bottle. “Now what?” he asked.

“What do you mean? That was it,” Patrick retorted, dismayed.

“You don’t wanna stick around, try to talk to her again?”

Patrick frowned. “No, no, that’ll seem too desperate. We should just wait for the shuttle back to the hotel.”

“Yeah, sure,” Art agreed, gaze stuck on Blair’s retreating figure. “Let’s go.”

“Yeah, let’s go,” Patrick chimed, glancing up at his friend before dragging his eyes to where Blair approached the mansion. His lips were pursed in concentration, hooded eyes watching her like a hawk.

The two boys stayed rooted to the spot, their eyes fixed on Blair as she seamlessly weaved through the crowd. Smiling down at Patrick when he didn’t move, Art shook his head. Patrick wasn’t going anywhere without getting on Blair’s good side; that was clear.

Blair disappeared into the house for refuge from the people and noise. That was another reason she didn’t want to be the face of women’s tennis. She never quite felt like she fit in anywhere unless Tashi was by her side, and half of being a professional athlete was convincing the world that you belonged. After pretending to be the perfect daughter her mother wanted for eighteen years, Blair wasn’t keen on doing it for the rest of her career to facilitate a dream that wasn’t hers.

She found the bathroom and locked the door behind her. Staring at her reflection, Blair meticulously adjusted her hair. Next, she smoothed the fabric of your dress, striving for an unattainable perfection that was expected from her since she was a little girl. Her eyes betrayed the sadness she always felt at tennis parties as she finished polishing her exterior. Each time Blair went to a party like this and put on the mask she wore for your career, she felt a piece of herself slipping away.

[divider]

“Wearing heels is like volunteering for a medieval torture device, but with more blisters,” Blair commented hours later when Tashi said her final goodbyes.

Her best friend laughed. “They sure do look good, though.”

The two of them stumbled down the stairs in the backyard, holding on to each other and giggling as they tried to make it back to the car so they could take their heels off.

“Carry me,” Blair whined jokingly, draping herself onto Tashi’s shoulder.

“No, carry me !”

Two voices interrupted their banter.

“Hey!”

“Hi!”

It was Art and Patrick, lounging on a sofa and grinning at them like they couldn’t believe they got to see Blair and Tashi again. Seeing Patrick made Blair want to laugh again – given her mother’s strong distaste for his unusual serve – and she averted her eyes to suppress a giggle.

Tashi answered for them both, “Hi.” She laughed a little, steering Blair towards them. “You guys are still here.”

“Great party!” Art enthusiastically replied.

“Thank you. Um, don’t you guys have a final? Shouldn’t you be, like, um, preparing or something?”

“God, I can’t wear these shoes any longer,” Blair mumbled beside her, dropping unceremoniously into the chair beside the boys and leaning down to take off her white heels.

Chapter 4 Chapter Text

HOTEL ROOM 206. FLUSHING MEADOWS, NEW YORK – SEPTEMBER 10, 2006. 12:15AM.

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” Blair hissed as she followed Tashi down the corridor of the dingy hotel they were staying at. She marched behind her best friend in light blue and white striped pyjama shorts, a white fitted t-shirt, fuzzy socks, and her favourite slippers.

“What can I say? My persuasive abilities started getting better since we became friends,” she retorted, rolling her eyes and smirking. “I guess you’re a good influence on me!”

Blair sighed, crossing her arms defensively and staring at the door of Room 206 once they arrived. “Tashi, this is insane,” she insisted, keeping her voice down in case Art and Patrick overheard. “They’re just going to be annoyed that I’m here. Plus, I’m going to have to entertain the leftover guy when you eventually pick one to make out with! You know how I feel about small talk with strangers.”

“You weren’t complaining at the beach,” Tashi pointed out. “Or when I was taking pictures with the trophy. And shut up, they’re not going to be annoyed you’re there, they want you to come!” She paused, trying not to laugh. “Literally and euphemistically.”

Blair groaned at her joke. “I’m getting a strong vibe that we’re about to star in our own horror movie. Exit, stage left!”

Her best friend crossed her arms. “Why did you come with me if you don’t want to see them?”

“Because I’d be a really sh*tty friend if I let you get murdered by yourself,” Blair argued, naively hoping Tashi wouldn’t recognise her go-to tactic of using humour to avoid confronting her emotions. “For the rest of my life, people are going to see me on the street and say, ‘That’s Blair Rosenbaum, the girl who let beloved tennis star Tashi Duncan become a cautionary tale instead of going to those guys’ room with her. What a bitch.’”

Tashi grinned. “You like them, don’t you? You really like them.” Before Blair could argue, she knocked on the door four times.

Blair grabbed Tashi’s arm and asked her, “Are you sure about this?”

“What’s the worst that could happen?” she challenged Blair, raising an eyebrow. “Think about it. Really give it a second. If they’re boring, we’ll leave. If they’re annoying, we’ll leave. If they’re being gross, we’ll leave. You have all the power here, B.”

Blair frowned. “I do?”

As if proving her point, Tashi knocked on the door again before motioning for Blair to press her ear against it. She listened as Art and Patrick scrambled to tidy their room. Tashi covered her mouth so she wouldn’t laugh too loudly.

“B, they’re literally obsessed with you. Everything’s going to be fine!”

“Wait!” a muffled cry sounded behind the door.

“Oh, sh*t,” a second voice added.

Blair grinned, listening to their pounding footsteps approaching the door. She stepped back just in time for Art to wrench the door open.

“Hi,” he greeted.

Patrick appeared a millisecond after him. “Hey!”

The pair of best friends were dishevelled, their hair still ruffled from hurriedly pulling on shirts, and their chests heaving slightly from the effort of a last-minute clean-up they were trying to conceal. Their appearances betrayed the frantic scramble to present a semblance of order in their room, and their efforts made Blair bite her lip to hide a growing smile. Most notably, their eyes were just as intense as she remembered, locking onto hers with a piercing gaze that sent a shiver down her spine.

Breaking their entranced stare, Tashi wondered, “Can we come in?”

Blair was quickly ushered inside and invited to sit on the carpeted floor. With amused, slightly confused eyes, she looked at Tashi and tilted her head, wondering why they were fussing so much. Tashi rolled her eyes, mouthing the word, whipped, and gesturing to Blair. Soon, the boys settled on the carpet opposite her and Tashi, forming a natural square as they opened the can of beer they promised them.

Feeling awkward, Blair scanned the room and registered the twin beds pushed together with interest, suspicious after seeing Art and Patrick’s state of undress. Both were in their boxers and had shirts carelessly thrown on. Patrick’s shirt wasn’t even buttoned, revealing his toned torso with pride.

“We aren’t interrupting something, are we?” Blair wondered, eyes flitting between the best friends with an amused smile.

“Of course not,” Art was quick to deny her insinuation. When she spotted the shower cap covering the hotel smoke detector and frowned, he realised it wasn’t just that Blair didn’t smoke. She hated cigarettes and smoking. “We were just–”

“Passing the time,” Patrick filled in when Art hesitated.

“Right.”

“Exactly.”

“Did you guys go to, like, Mommy And Me classes together?” Tashi wondered, eliciting laughter from everyone in the room. Patrick took a sip of his beer, grinning. “What? You just seem like brothers.”

Their bond reminded Tashi of her friendship with Blair, and that was a rare feat.

“Well, that’s what the Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy will do for you,” Art said in a musical tone, smirking at Patrick beside him.

Tashi chuckled. “Oh. Right, right, right. You guys went to boarding school.”

“We’ve been bunkmates since we were twelve, so…” Patrick trailed off, shrugging.

“Hence the closeness,” Blair completed his sentence. “That’s cool!”

“Very cute,” Tashi agreed.

“You two ever think about doing something like that?” Art asked before drinking the can he got from Patrick.

“Boarding school?” Tashi shook her head. “No. No, no, no. We couldn’t afford it. And even if I could get a scholarship or something, there’s no way that my parents would want me coming of age in an environment like that,” she added, gesturing with her hands.

Patrick’s eyebrows pulled together. “Why? What were they afraid of?” Tashi lifted her eyebrows and nodded, silently pointing out the obvious. “Oh, yeah. Right!” Everyone laughed at that. “What about you?”

Usually, when a group of people had their eyes onBlair, it made her incredibly anxious. Sitting here with Art, Patrick, and Tashi felt safe. She wasn’t worried about expressing her true thoughts or wearing the protective mask she had created over the years.

“I wish they would have sent me to boarding school,” Blair mused, rolling her eyes. “If my mother had it her way she would have homeschooled me and never taught me anything other than how to hit a ball across the net. I’d be a living, breathing tennis machine if it was up to her.”

“Ah.” Patrick nodded. “Right.”

“Luckily my dad convinced her that my education is just as important as a tennis career, so I got sent to a cushy private school nearby that was lenient enough to let me miss classes for competitions,” Blair added. “It was actually pretty great, I loved going to school. Getting into Stanford was a lifelong dream come true.”

“Really?” Art asked, grinning. He ran a hand through his curls and gave Blair the beer next. She was sitting so close that their bare knees brushed once in a while, sending a jolt through Blair’s body like a shot of espresso each time.

“What? Do I not seem like the brainy type?” Blair retorted, passing the can of beer on to Tashi after taking a sip.

“No, no, no–”

“I’ll have you know I was my class salutatorian, and just three months ago I gave a speech at graduation that was so beautiful it made everyone cry,” Blair bragged.

Art and Patrick couldn’t keep their eyes off her as she relaxed around them, her bare face free of makeup and her smile illuminating the room with a natural, effortless beauty. Blair was enchanting when she was at ease, making their hearts swell with admiration. Every time her skin touched Art’s, it stirred something insatiable in him.

“Oh, it was heart-wrenching,” Tashi agreed. “B is the only person I know at that school and I still teared up. She’s brilliant, she would’ve gotten into Stanford even without tennis.” Grateful, Blair leaned her head on Tashi’s shoulder and kissed her cheek.

“At least now we finally get to play on the same team,” Blair mentioned happily.

“So how long have you two been friends?” Patrick questioned, motioning between Blair and Tashi. “Did you meet through tennis?”

“We met when I kicked T’s ass when we were fourteen,” Blair informed them, grinning teasingly at her best friend and lifting her head from her shoulder.

“I think that might be my favourite match I ever played,” Tashi confessed fondly.

Blair sat up straight, looking at her best friend and gaping. “Are you serious?!”

Tashi Duncan, the woman who lived and breathed tennis and trophies, had the most fun during a tennis match when she lost? It didn’t make sense, even to Blair, her best friend of four years.

“Definitely! You were the first person I met who played me and actually challenged me. I lost that game and I just thought, ‘I have to meet this girl. I’ve never played against someone who loves this game as much as me before, and there’s no way in hell I’m letting her go.’”

“Wow.” Patrick nodded, impressed. “That’s as good as the whole boarding school bond.”

Tashi grinned, turning to him with narrowed eyes. “So, is that where you met your girlfriend?” If Patrick was going to pursue her best friend, Tashi needed to get to the bottom of his romantic situation.

“Oh, she’s not my, um…” Patrick glanced at Art as the blond crossed his arms and leaned in close, looking pleasantly smug that someone had called him out. “Yeah, yeah.”

“And you? Why aren’t you pretending not to have a girlfriend?” Tashi questioned Art, taking another sip of her beer.

“Art’s in between ladies.”

It didn’t surprise Blair that Art and Patrick were popular with the girls at their school; not only were they ranked fifth and second in the juniors, but they were magnetically charming and wonderful to look at.

“Oh, no, no–” Art pointed at his best friend, resenting the tone Patrick took on– “That makes it sound like I’m some sort of–”

“Player,” Tashi suggested.

“Pompous promiscuous philanderer,” Blair offered an alternative. Tashi and Patrick giggled, enjoying her alliteration.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, Art does fine for himself,” Patrick added happily. “I mean, look at him–” he reached over to touch Art’s face and was immediately pushed away.

“So…” Tashi looked expectantly between the boys. “How often does this happen?” she inquired, motioning her pointer finger in a circle to indicate the situation they now found themselves in. “Going after the same girls?”

“Not as often as you think, actually.”

“Really?” Blair exclaimed.

“No.”

“Yeah, no, we, uh…” Art grinned. “We usually have different types,” he revealed.

“Hmm. So you’re saying we should be flattered?” Tashi teased.

Blair sat up, holding her hand up as if she were taking an oath. “I know I am,” she played up the ridicule Tashi had started. “The thought that two teenage boys might both be interested in me? That’s about as rare as tennis balls at practice!”

“Or sunshine in California,” Tashi chimed, referencing more common things to hammer the point home.

“Boys are too easy,” Blair commented. “All it takes is boobs to capture their interest, that’s it.”

Art risked a look at her and grinned broadly. “Isn’t that just because you’re everybody’s type?” he retorted. His candied gaze swept Blair’s body languidly, lingering on the boobs she just referenced. Blair felt her cheeks warm at the attention, equally stunned and impressed by his gall.

“Ah, yes. Many have tried and none have succeeded thus far,” Tashi reported, handing the can of beer back to Blair. “Blair’s very picky when it comes to guys. They don’t tend to stick around, and not because they don’t want to.”

That caught Patrick’s attention. “Oh, really? You have a specific type, do you?” He glanced at Blair with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes.

She tried not to stare at his lithe body, stretched out and perfectly on display. “Of course,” Blair agreed readily. “Only the best for me. Six foot one, brunet, build like a god–”

“So far so good,” Patrick mused, pleased with her description.

“Spanish,” Tashi added helpfully. At that, Patrick deflated.

Blair pointed at her, nodding enthusiastically. “Right, thanks! Yes, Spanish–” she paused to recall what attributes she might have forgotten. “Youngest French Open winner in history–”

At that, Art burst into laughter. “No f*cking way! You’re just describing Nadal,” he accused.

Patrick groaned, rolling his eyes. “Oh, come on! I thought you were being serious.”

Blair smirked, shrugging and sharing a pleased look with Tashi. “What can I say, I like winners,” she teased, not meaning it. “With glorious biceps.”

“So glorious,” Tashi agreed through her laughter.

Blair smiled and shook her head. “No, I don’t have a type. I’ve just never met anyone who wanted me for something other than my looks or status, so I didn’t ask any of them to stay.” Art and Patrick nodded, sympathising with her.

“What about the two of you?” Tashi inquired, motioning between the pair.

Still smiling, Art asked, “What do you mean?”

“You know…” Blair nodded intentionally. “Beds pushed together, hanging out with minimal clothing. Have you ever…?”

Patrick’s smile slipped a little, and he tilted his head, thinking it over. Art seemed startled by the suggestion. “Oh! No,” he declared. More awkwardly than Blair expected them to, they laughed. “No. Why? Is that surprising?”

“Not surprising,” Blair mused. “You just seem very…”

“Close,” Tashi implied.

Everyone turned to look at Patrick, waiting for his input. As Blair observed his expression, she noticed a subtle tension in his features, hinting that he was restraining himself beneath the surface.

“What?” Blair wondered, too curious to hold back.

“Well–”

“No,” Art interjected. His smile was long gone, and a deadpan expression kissed his features. He shook his head, looking more severe than Blair thought the blond was capable of. Perhaps that was the real reason he was ice in their dynamic…

“I mean–”

“No,” Art insisted. Patrick spluttered, trying to get a word in as nervous chortles escaped him. “Patrick, no.”

Still laughing, Patrick said, “Sorry.”

“Yes,” Tashi encouraged happily.

“No.”

“I think you need to tell us now,” she added.

“It sounds way too good to hold back,” Blair excitedly agreed.

“No.”

Patrick reached for the beer and looked at his best friend with a delighted smile. “I think it’s a sweet story,” he remarked.

“Uh-huh,” Art agreed sarcastically, putting his head in his hand to hide his face from Blair. “All right.”

“Well, let’s hear it,” Tashi exclaimed excitedly.

Embarrassed, Art allowed it, “Yeah, no, go ahead.”

“Uh…” Patrick and Art spluttered, dissolving into awkward laughter. “I taught Art how to jerk off,” Patrick confessed. Blair stared at him in surprise, not having expected that answer. “So…”

To avoid Blair’s eyes, Patrick drank his beer, and Art hid the bottom half of his face inside his grey Stanford t-shirt. As she and Tashi exchanged amused glances, a silent understanding passed between them, their eyes alight with shared delight. At that moment, the dynamic in the group shifted, and Blair realised Tashi had been right.

Whether or not she believed her earlier, Blair had the power here; Blair was in control.

“I think I need a little more than that,” she admitted, testing the waters and not wanting to push them too far.

Art’s head popped up. “Okay,” he began, making Blair and Tashi howl with laughter at his sudden 180. “Patrick was an early bloomer–” Art pointed an accusatory finger at his best friend, who smirked– “Okay? And I think that I was on time. And one time–” he emphasised that it only happened once– “When we were twelve, he thought I was asleep and he was, you know…”

“Jerking off,” they chorused.

“And, yeah… And I asked him, ‘What are you doing?’ And he told me. He’s…”

Again, in unison, they said, “Jerking off.”

Blair bit her lip to suppress her laughter.

“He asked me if I had ever done it before.” Art snickered as he spoke. “And I told him no. And so, he just… He showed me how.” When he was done, Art finally looked up at Blair and Tashi. Proudly, Patrick nodded, confirming the story.

Tashi stared. “What do you mean he showed you how?” she wondered, mimicking how Art had pronounced the words. Blair looked behind her at their beds pushed together and nodded, also wanting to know the specifics.

Spotting Blair’s sideways glance, Art quickly defended himself, “No. I mean–”

“Well–”

“I mean, he did it on his bed–” Art pointed to the left to indicate where Patrick’s bed was in their room. “I did it on my bed–” he gestured to the right, purposely creating distance between their beds in the story– “We did it together, but like on opposite sides in the room.”

“Yeah. Mm-hmm.” Patrick wagged a finger and assented with a nod. Blair’s eyes travelled south as he adjusted his underwear, and she raised a sceptical eyebrow at the timing.

“You know.” Art cleared his throat loudly.

Tashi was entranced by the story, finding it more entertaining as they provided further details. “Silent?” she inquired, astonished.

“Oh, no, no!”

“No, no!” The boys laughed.

“No, we were talking about Kat, weren’t we?” Art recalled.

Patrick pointed and agreed, “Kat Zimmerman!”

“Patrick said it’s always better–”

“Yeah.”

“–if you’re, like, thinking about somebody when you’re doing it. And so I asked him who you’re thinking about, and he was talking about this girl–”

“Kat Zimmerman,” they recited in harmony.

“And so, I thought about her, too.”

“Wow,” Blair and Tashi intoned in unison, rendered speechless by their story.

“Yeah…”

“Okay.” As the bolder of the two of the girls, Tashi had no problem probing them for further information, even if it was embarrassing. “And who finished first?”

“Oh, I don’t remember–”

“I think you,” Patrick cut in.

The air crackled with tension as Patrick and Art’s gazes locked in a loaded stare, the weight of the personal revelation hanging between them.

“Is this a normal thing guys do?” Blair wondered, changing the subject so as not to dwell on Art’s embarrassment. “What happened afterwards?”

Patrick chuckled as Art shook his head. “I think Art was a little surprised by the whole thing,” he revealed, telling the rest of the story through unsuccessfully suppressed laughter. “He was–” another chortle escaped him; Art hid his face in his shirt again– “He was just sitting there covered in all of it.”

Tashi laughed. “What?!”

“He looked like a kid who’d spilled milk all over his lap!”

As the four of them roared with laughter at the hilarious story, Art couldn’t help but yell, “Jesus, Patrick!”

The shared laughter unexpectedly deepened the bond between the four of them; the tension that had previously hung in the air dissipated, replaced by a sense of camaraderie and closeness thanks to the reverberating giggles. The story was rooted in innocence and exploration that made Blair feel at ease in Art and Patrick’s company, forging connections that transcended her brief acquaintance with them.

It was easy to fall into place with them and feel like she belonged.

“I knew enough already at this point to have a sock nearby, right? Forgot to tell Art about that part,” Patrick added.

“Yeah. Mm-hmm.” Art took turns burying his face in his t-shirt and letting himself laugh in the open.

“Yeah, so…”

“Right. Okay.” Tashi grinned ear to ear. “And what about Miss Zimmerman?” She reached over to take the beer from Patrick’s grasp. “What ever happened to her? You guys…” Tashi trailed off.

Patrick shook his head. “Neither of us… She got injured a week later and had to quit.”

Blair frowned a little. “Really? That’s terrible!”

To cheer her up, Patrick quickly assured Blair, “She wasn’t very good in the first place.”

“No, she sucked,” Art agreed. “Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, no, you’re right. That is a very cute story,” Tashi gave them her stamp of approval.

Patrick quietly laughed. “Thanks. What about you two?” he turned the tables on them. Art perked up at the suggestion.

Blair rolled her eyes. “You wish,” she waved them off.

“We really do,” Art joked.

“No, me and Tashi are soulmates for sure, but nothing like you two ever happened,” Blair clarified. “It can’t be explained by platonic love, but it’s not romance either. We’re just…” She paused, trying to find the right words for it. “Two halves of a whole, completing each other.”

“It’s actually really crazy,” Tashi chimed in. “I was going through life thinking something was missing, and when we met I realised I wasn’t a whole person until I had Blair in my life.”

“Wow,” Art mumbled quietly, entranced by how Blair and Tashi spoke about their relationship.

“Have you ever met someone and it feels like they’ve been a part of your life forever, even though you just met?” Blair added, hoping to paint an accurate picture for Art and Patrick. They smiled fondly, making brief eye contact and nodding. “That’s what it’s like with me and Tashi. We just click, you know? We always did. Like two pieces of a puzzle. I can’t explain it, but being with her just feels right.”

“Same here,” Tashi added happily. “It’s like she’s the mirror–” she motioned from her chest to Blair for emphasis– “reflecting the best parts of me back at myself. Without her, I’m not sure I’d recognise the person staring back at me.”

Blair smiled affectionately at her best friend, going to retrieve the beer from her but finding it empty. “Oh,” she exclaimed. “We’re out of beer.”

The boys looked at each other unsurely. “Um…”

Tashi glanced at Blair expectantly, and without speaking, Blair could tell what she was telling her. We have all the power here, B. Blair was more aware of this truth than ever but didn’t know how to proceed. She thought to herself, if I were as bold and confident as Tashi, what would I do?

Blair got to her feet, suddenly looking down at her new friends. She wasn’t sure if it was the minimal beer in her bloodstream – combined with the champagne she and Tashi snuck at her party a couple hours ago – but Blair’s heart raced, palms growing clammy as nervous excitement coursed through her veins. The anticipation was almost too much to bear. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Blair gathered her courage, feeling a flutter in her stomach as she sat on their beds.

When Art and Patrick stared at Blair with awe-filled eyes, she smiled. “You know, it feels a little lonely up here without you–” Blair barely got the words out when Patrick took a seat on her left, Art joining them on her other side right after. “I don’t believe that you don’t go after the same girls for a single second,” Blair admitted, carefully studying the boys’ faces. “But there is something I’m curious about.”

“What?” they chorused.

“Who the better kisser is,” Blair revealed. She heard Patrick and Art’s breath catching in their throats and looked at Tashi on the floor with a surprised grin. “Feel like joining us, T?”

Smirking proudly at Blair’s nerve, Tashi rested her hands on the carpet and leaned back to observe. “I’m good here,” she declined her offer, preferring to watch from her spot on the floor. Tashi knew those boys were there for one girl only, and it wasn’t her. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

“So… who wants to go first?” Blair offered.

Painfully desperate to kiss her, Art whispered, “Please.” It was like he didn’t realise he had said it.

Blair turned to him, admiring his features. Art’s face was flushed with a deep, rosy hue, his adoring eyes locked onto Blair’s with an intensity that spoke of pure, unwavering worship. It was as if the entire world had vanished, and all he could see – all he could focus on – was Blair, the girl who had captivated his soul. Her heart pounded at the sight of his unadulterated emotions, wishing she could be so open with her own.

“Since you asked so nicely,” Blair replied, letting her eyes flit between Art’s deep blue eyes and pink lips before closing the space between them and kissing him.

Their lips met softly, a gentle brush that made Blair both shiver. For a moment, Art couldn’t think; his senses were overwhelmed with the pillowy touch of her lips and the fact that Blair kissed him first, not Patrick. The warmth of his touch ignited a spark in her as he swept his thumbs across Blair’s cheeks affectionately, caressing her to ensure that she was real and not just a part of his imagination. The subtle scent of something characteristically Art was intoxicating, and Blair deepened the kiss, parting her lips slightly and shifting closer. Like they did when she sat on the carpet next to him, their knees touched, and his skin felt scorching hot.

Getting bolder, Art ran his hands up Blair’s bare thighs, sighing against her mouth at the feeling of the warm expanse of her legs. Her cheeks and legs felt hot; it was like all the warmth in her body was flowing to the areas where Art was touching her. It was almost like a dance, and it occurred to Blair that kissing Art was just like meeting his eyes, unrestrained in his emotional expression and leaving her wanting more. Gently, he nudged his nose against hers, almost lazy in his slow exploration of her mouth.

It wasn’t just sweet; it was heavenly.

When Blair leaned back to pull away, Art’s lips chased her. She had to place her hands on his chest for him to open his eyes and realise what she was doing. For a moment, they just looked at each other, enjoying their flustered expressions and the sight of their bruised lips.

Blair barely turned to face Patrick when he crashed his lips to hers and collided with a fiery intensity different from her kiss with Art. Like his playing style, Patrick’s kiss was a passionate exchange that left Blair breathless and her skin tingling with every brush of his mouth. This kiss was raw and emotive, a stark contrast to the sweet tenderness and devotion of Art’s. Where Art relished in the slow ease of their kiss, Patrick’s swift confidence was dominating and fiery. Blair gasped a little when his teeth bit her top lip. He chuckled, pecking her lips before his tongue soothed the spot he bit.

While Art had grabbed her thighs to touch more of her, Patrick nearly yanked Blair towards him to have her closer, almost impossibly so. From the sudden movement, Art’s hands fell from her thighs, and he stared, open-mouthed, as his best friend made Blair groan appreciatively. Patrick’s hands cradled the back of her head, ushering her in his direction, and Blair tangled her fingers in his tousled curls. The hunger and need in his kiss sent her head spinning.

He kissed Blair like it was his last day on earth, head tilted to one side and tongue teasing hers in a way that made her glad she was sitting because her knees felt weak.

Running out of air, Blair pulled away and felt her stomach flooding with heat at the sight of Patrick’s pupil-blown lake-blue eyes. She didn’t realise someone could look at her with so much desire, and it made her gasp quietly. The low orange light of the hotel room glinted off his eyes, mirroring the spark Blair felt jolting her body each time his lips touched hers. Patrick was warm and intense but still adoring. He was flushed but not as pink as Art. Instead, his cheeks were red, and the rest of him was almost golden. His blue-green, deep eyes stripped away Blair’s defences without any effort, hinting at the effortless understanding she had only ever felt with Tashi in the past.

Blair was so seen, so understood that she wanted to shy away from his gaze; it was like Patrick could see the depths of her being, leaving her feeling exposed yet inexplicably drawn to him.

“I’m not sure I can decide,” Blair admitted as her heart raced. Her mind swirled, trying to grasp the reality of the sweet and dizzying kisses that left her lips tingling and her thoughts pleasantly hazy. There was an inexplicable lightness in her body despite the heaviness in the air. They were both perfect in their own ways, neither better than the other.

It was nothing Art or Patrick had ever experienced before.

Blair touched them with such care and emotion, so much want, that it left them needing more. It wasn’t just that the brush of her lips felt like perfection, but the fact that she was the one doing it made all the difference.

Blair had kissed them. Blair had made them feel this way.

They couldn’t hide their physiological response to her sweet affection and didn’t even try. For Patrick, it was visible in the heavy way his chest rose and fell to catch his breath while the tightening sensation in Art’s pants was there for everyone to see.

“Maybe the two of you could help me decide…” Blair trailed off, gently closing the gap between the two best friends and encouraging their lips to meet.

Patrick and Art were so entranced – not only with Blair but by the effect they had on her – that they didn’t fight it. Perhaps it was because they had so many years of history, but their kiss was even more impassioned and unrestrained. They were all tongue and teeth, connected only by their mouths until Patrick tugged Art closer by the shoulder. Blair watched with hungry, curious eyes, noting how Patrick always seemed to need to be adjoined to the person he was kissing. Art got lost in their kiss just as he had with hers, giving everything he had to Patrick and holding nothing back.

It was so beautiful she didn’t know what to do with herself. If Blair didn’t know any better, she’d think she was falling for them.

Breath hitching in panic, Blair dragged her eyes away, looking down at Tashi for help.

“Well, this was fun,” she declared, effectively saving Blair from having to say anything. Tashi was proud that Blair had gone after what she wanted, and she could tell with one glance at her face that she was ready to go. If there was one thing Tashi knew, it was that Blair preferred to run from her feelings than confront them head-on. “Thanks for the beer. We’re going to bed,” Tashi added, getting up and putting her slides back on.

Art and Patrick parted and turned to look at Blair with twin stunned expressions.

“We have to get going,” Blair agreed with her best friend. Tashi pulled her up off the bed with a tender tug.

“What about your numbers?” Patrick asked, now more desperate than ever before.

“We already told you, we’re not homewreckers,” Tashi reminded them as Blair placed her feet into her slippers.

Art nearly begged, “Please.”

Tashi released a short laugh. “Um… Okay, uh… We will be watching your match tomorrow. Blair likes winners–” Everyone’s eyes flickered over to Blair, and she averted her eyes shyly– “so whoever wins can have their girl of choice’s number. The other guy has to back off.”

Art exhaled, leaning forward in disappointment. Smug, Patrick readily agreed to the terms of the bet, “All right.”

“Don’t give up before the match even starts,” Blair encouraged Art, wanting to take one last look into his icy blue eyes before she returned to her room. “You can beat him if you want to. I really believe that, Art.” The honeyed way Blair said his name only worsened the blond’s hard-on. He inhaled sharply, eyes shutting in a moment of bliss.

“Are you saying you want me to?”

“Are you saying he’s the better kisser?” Patrick added curiously. His hooded eyes made his already dark eyes appear almost pitch-black, pupils blown wide.

“She’s saying you’re not going to get anyone’s number if you don’t,” Tashi corrected him.

Art asked, “But what do you want?”

“I don’t know about Blair, but I want to watch some good f*cking tennis,” Tashi said pointedly. “I’ll leave that up to you two. Good night.” She grinned and went to open the door, stepping outside and holding it open for Blair.

She cleared her throat and resorted to humour like she did when the tension was too thick. “Why don’t you just–” Blair motioned to the beds they had pushed together– “You know. For old time’s sake.” Art stared at her with huge eyes at the insinuation. When Blair’s eyes flitted to the brunet beside him, she could tell Patrick was trying not to smirk. “And don’t forget, it’s always better if you’re thinking about somebody when you’re doing it,” Blair quoted Patrick in a faux innocent voice, lips curving into a smug grin as Tashi shut the door behind her.

Chapter 5 Chapter Text

JUNIOR US OPEN BOYS’ SINGLES FINAL –SEPTEMBER 10, 2006. 12:55PM.

It was the perfect day for a game of tennis, and Blair had never seen Tashi so excited to watch a match unfold.

“Okay seriously, you’re starting to freak me out, Sally Sunshine,” she said as they took their seats, eyebrows furrowed as Blair stared incredulously at her best friend.

Tashi rolled her eyes, sipping from the straw in her blue Gatorade bottle. “I’m just thrilled to see two little white boys battle it out for your phone number,” she retorted with a cheeky grin. “I mean, Patrick’s probably going to win so I guess that’s unfortunate if you like Art best, but one of them is definitely getting your number.” Happily, Tashi set her drink down and leaned back on her arms. “This is going to be a great day!”

“Alright, I think you may be enjoying this a little too much,” Blair admitted, trying not to laugh.

“Well I think you’re not enjoying this enough,” Tashi retorted. “These two guys are going out there today, not to win the Junior US Open for their careers, but to get you to go out with them. How many girls can say that about themselves?” Blair’s cheeks grew hot at the implication, but she tried to wave off Tashi’s assumption.

“Who says they’ll ask me? What if whoever wins asks you?” she argued.

Tashi stared at her, unimpressed. Her eyes narrowed slightly, a flat and unyielding stare that spoke volumes of her disapproval of Blair’s uncertainty. She remained silent, her unconvinced gaze conveying a clear message of criticism more effectively than words ever could. Still, she indulged her.

“That’s f*cking insane, B,” Tashi declared. “After everything that happened last night, I don’t know how you could ever think I’m the one they’re interested in.” She smirked. “But don’t take my word for it, let them show you on the court today. I doubt you’ll need any further convincing after that.”

Sitting at the edge of her seat, Blair’s fingers tapped restlessly against her thigh, the tension in her body reflected the tension between Art and Patrick as they came out onto the court. She was too nervous and rigid to applaud them, and each heartbeat felt like a drum in her chest as her eyes flickered between the boys. The electric anticipation in the air mingled with her personal stakes, making Blair’s breath catch with every second ticking closer to the start of the match.

It was a gorgeous day, just as Tashi had happily declared earlier; clear, blue skies with a blistering sun in the early afternoon. In the heat, Blair was dressed in a pair of denim shorts, a fitted red Stanford t-shirt, and her favourite white sneakers that Nike sent her for free when she attended the Junior Australian Open. Blair anxiously picked at the beads of the friendship bracelets on her wrist while she waited for the match to begin.

When it did, it was Blair’s turn to be stunned by their performance.

Patrick was playing like a man possessed.

From the first set, the match between him and Art was electric. Every stroke was more powerful and precise than any Blair had ever seen Patrick play in the past. The thud of the ball against the racket echoed like thunder throughout the court, and his grunts of effort punctuated the relentless rhythm of the game. His volleys snapped with a precision that left the crowd breathless, and even Tashi’s eyes darted to follow the blur of the ball with heightened interest.

Art, drenched in sweat, scrambled helplessly across the court, barely managing to return each powerful shot. Blair knew he was a pretty conservative player – especially compared to Patrick’s intense, emotional playing style – but this time, he was forced into a desperate defensive stance. Patrick was quick, accurate, and relentless. Across the net, Art nearly fell over as he sprinted from one corner to the next, barely keeping up with the gruelling pace his best friend set.

“Okay, this is kind of hot,” Tashi admitted, grinning widely at Blair.

“Two good-looking guys playing tennis? Yes, I see the appeal,” she joked, keeping her eyes trained on the match. “Hence the Nadal favouritism.”

Tashi snorted. “Right, but that’s not what I meant.”

“What then?”

“Don’t you get it? The real game of tennis isn’t even happening on the court,” Tashi explained to Blair. At that moment, Art mish*t the ball and sent it soaring high in the air, giving Patrick ample time to deceive his best friend and hit a gentle between-the-legs shot, winning the point as the crowd cheered. “It’s happening right here…” she trailed off, applauding when Patrick turned to bow at Blair while Art stared at her dejectedly, trying to catch his breath.

– – –

Patrick took the match in straight sets.

It was the best game of tennis he had ever played, and it had the spectators begging him for more when he was finished. With the crowd, Blair applauded his victory, laughing when he instantly turned to find her and sent her a satisfied boyish grin. Even though Patrick had described going pro as a way to avoid having a normal job, it felt like this match meant more than that.

Feeling overwhelmed by the crowd and the growing realisation that Blair had entered a game of mental tennis with these boys, she told Tashi she was going to the bathroom to excuse herself. The nervous exhilaration of watching them play mirrored the rush she felt when she played tennis, her heart pounding and her palms sweaty. Burdened by the tension and emotional rally, Blair needed a moment to catch her breath and gather her thoughts.

“Hey,” Patrick called after her, running into the hallway with flushed cheeks and his racket in hand before Blair could disappear.

She sucked in a breath, heart hammering nervously. No. He couldn’t be… could he?

Plastering a false smile on her lips, Blair turned to meet his eyes. Out of breath and drenched in sweat, Patrick’s chest heaved with exhaustion. Despite his tired muscles, his eyes were alight with the fire of victory, radiating pure exhilaration and triumph. Blair’s Stanford t-shirt – which cut off above her shorts to display a sliver of skin – revealed a hint of her bare abdomen. That was enough for Patrick to feel something stirring in his stomach, thinking of how his hands and lips had touched her the previous night.

“Hey,” Blair echoed, letting him hug her despite how sweaty he was. It felt oddly casual, considering how well she knew the inside of his mouth, but she tried not to dwell on it. “Congratulations on winning the Junior US Open! That was quite a match,” she complimented.

He smiled proudly. “You think so?” Knowing her attention had been on him for the last two hours had made him smug and confident. He was glad he’d played so well while Blair was in the audience and hoped she was impressed.

“Of course I do. I wouldn’t lie to you,” Blair dutifully replied. Patrick believed her; she were so earnest and generous last night that he didn’t think she had it in her to placate him. “You were electric, Patrick. It was really a special game to watch. You should be proud of yourself. You were doing far more than avoiding a real job,” Blair added.

“Well, thanks.” Patrick eyed her, trying to figure out her expression. Her words were genuine and kind, but the thin smile on her face didn’t reflect that. Blair hated that he could tell she were acting weird. After knowing Patrick for exactly one night, it wasn’t fair that she was an open book to him. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

Blair tilted her head, eyes widening in a way she hoped was innocent. “What do you mean?” she said in an airy voice.

“You have this look on your face that I can’t figure out,” Patrick explained.

“Oh, that? I’m just channelling my inner Mona Lisa – always keeps people guessing,” Blair joked, hoping he’d brush it off and move on. It was unfortunate that she slipped into old habits when she was nervous, but Art and Patrick had rattled her the previous night, and now Blair didn’t know how to behave around them. “Nothing to worry about!”

His face fell. As Blair watched the joyful glow of victory drain from his eyes, her heart ached for him. “You’re making jokes to deflect me,” Patrick realised. “I thought we got past that last night?”

Blair simultaneously hated and loved that Patrick knew she was resorting to her go-to method of distracting people from her true feelings.

“We did,” she promised, feeling guilty for trying to deceive him. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little tired, that’s all. What’s up, Pat?” The nickname flew from Blair’s lips without a second thought, allowing his mouth to curve into a grin.

“Well, I’m not sure if you remember the terms of our agreement, but it stipulates that I get to have the number of my choosing if I win. Which I did,” Patrick mused joyfully. “So, here I am, hoping to cash in my prize…”

She was hoping he wasn’t going to ask her.

Blair’s stomach twisted into knots, and her hand reached for the friendship bracelets on her other wrist. The weight of having to reject a genuinely great guy settled over her uncomfortably, increasing her anxiety. Her heart raced with dread as she searched for the right words.

Patrick stood there with a hopeful smile, his lake-blue eyes shining with anticipation. Rather unlike the co*cky Patrick she met last night, his fingers fidgeted nervously with his racket, utterly unaware of the impending rejection. His earnest expression and boyish excitement replaced his usual suave smirk, and Blair noticed how attractive he was with his sweaty tousled curls and prominent arm muscles.

“I think you should ask Tashi for her number,” Blair blurted out. Immediately, her eyes squeezed shut, and she realised how blunt that was. When she opened her eyes, Blair saw the startled expression on Patrick’s face. “That was awful, I’m so sorry–”

Clearing his throat, Patrick rubbed the back of his head and waved her off. “No, no, it’s okay–”

“No, it’s not,” Blair denied. “It’s just that I’m sort of going through a break up right now.”

Patrick opened his mouth to respond, closed it, and stared. “I didn’t realise you had a boyfriend.”

Blair chuckled awkwardly. “I don’t. It’s not that kind of break up,” she amended her earlier statement. “God, this is going to sound so stupid, I’m breaking up with tennis, Patrick.”

“Oh.”

“I know that’s dumb but it’s the only way I can describe it.” Blair reached out, touching Patrick’s elbow and hoping the gesture comforted him. “This whole thing with giving up tournaments is really messing with me, and I just don’t think I can be with a guy whose whole life is the professional tennis world right now,” she admitted. “It’s going to be hard enough playing at Stanford. I don’t think I can put myself through that. It’s just too painful.”

Patrick nodded. “I get it.”

“I think you’re going to do great things when you go pro, Pat,” Blair encouraged, grinning at him and dropping her hand. “I truly mean that. But I’m not going to be able to pick up the phone and talk through the match with you. Not when I’m–”

“–Breaking up with tennis, I know what you mean,” Patrick filled the gap for her. He tried not to, but he looked crestfallen. His eyes lost their characteristic heat as he smiled sadly. “It’s okay. I understand.” It was like a shield went up, and his eyes suddenly seemed empty. “Are you sure you can’t give me your number? Just to piss off your mom?”

A surprised laugh escaped Blair. “What?!”

“Didn’t you say I was on her blacklist for my serve?” Patrick recalled. “I bet she’d hate it if you dated me.”

“As much as I’d love to see the look of absolute horror on her face when I tell her I’m going out with the guy with the disastrous serve, I’m still going to have to say no,” Blair replied. “I’m sorry.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “That’s a pity.”

“I think I’m just too sweet for you,” Blair revealed what she had been thinking since last night in the hotel room. “I’m not going to get in the way of whatever you and your kind-of-girlfriend have going on. Besides, you need someone strong by your side to amplify the best parts of you. And there are so many amazing parts. Tashi can be that person for you, I know she can.”

“Okay, yeah,” Patrick agreed reluctantly. He didn’t know what to say to her, especially after she had indeed been so sweet to him in her rejection. Blair didn’t realise Patrick liked that she was so lovely. He craved her honeyed words of affection and encouragement. But Patrick also wanted to please Blair, and the last thing he wanted was to be the reason for her discomfort, especially during her ‘break up’ with tennis. “I’ll go find Tashi, then,” Patrick decided.

Blair nodded, sighing in relief when he didn’t seem too upset. “You won’t regret it,” she maintained, and her smile was so beautiful it hurt him. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, sure,” Patrick agreed. He searched her eyes intently, hoping to discover she was changing her mind and giving him her number. A beat of silent contemplation later, he let it go, trying not to let the crushing disappointment hang visibly between them. “I’ll see you, Blair.”

When Patrick turned around and left Blair in the hallway, she slumped against the wall, exhaling shakily. She put her hand on her chest, feeling her racing heartbeat beneath her fingertips. Blair didn’t know if she had done the right thing, but she hadn’t lied to Patrick. Even though she liked him, she didn’t think she could have a professional tennis player boyfriend right now.

Around the corner, Art was pressed against the same wall, frozen in shock at what he just overheard.

– – –

RITZ-CARLTON. NEW ROCHELLE, NEW YORK –JULY 29, 2019. 08:00PM.

One of the many things Blair and Tashi always had in common was their penchant for being on time.

Blair was always punctual, a habit ingrained from countless times of being let down by her mother, who never showed up for anything but tennis matches. Her awareness of the time and dedication it took to build a tennis career made her value everyone else’s time more, ensuring she never wasted a minute.

It was a shock to the system when Blair walked into the Ritz-Carlton and saw Tashi waiting for her by the reception desk.

Blair was awestruck by how much she had changed and yet how much remained the same. With an aching heart, she tried not to list all the major life events she had missed. There was a bittersweet pang of regret for not being there to share in those moments but also a profound relief in knowing Blair had carved out a life for herself that she genuinely loved.

As Blair and Tashi stood face to face, the years melted away, blending past sorrows with the awkward unfamiliarity of their present selves.

She broke the silence like she always did when they were younger. “Thank you for coming,” Tashi acknowledged. Her voice was deep and firmer than Blair remembered.

Blair nodded. “You said you needed to see me. I knew it had to be important,” she replied. “I like your hair.” It was shorter and blonder than the last time Blair saw her, around three years ago at the French Open.

Tashi smiled. “Thank you. You look great, by the way. I always knew we’d get older and you’d just keep getting prettier.”

She brushed her hair behind her ear, and shiny beads caught Blair’s eyes. They widened a fraction when she realised Tashi was wearing a homemade friendship bracelet. She couldn’t tell what was spelt out on the white beads from her distance from her, but Blair couldn’t help the twinge in her stomach at the sight of her wearing something that used to tie them together for so many years.

Seeing her ex-best friend wear a friendship bracelet made by someone else was like noticing the delicate thread that once tied their hearts together had been cut and replaced, leaving Blair with a hole where their bond used to be.

Eyes sliding down to see what Blair was staring at, Tashi awkwardly moved her hand behind her back. Blair blinked, trying to focus.

“Oh, um, my daughter made that for me,” Tashi admitted.

That surprised her. “Really?” Blair said, wonder clear in her tone. “You were always too impatient to make them when we were younger. I can’t believe you taught your daughter how to make them.”

Biting her cheek, Tashi shook her head, a potently nostalgic glint shining in her eyes. “I didn’t,” she confessed. “She learned from Art.”

“Oh.”

Talking about Art – Blair’s first love and Tashi’s husband – felt surreal to both of them. It was a topic that remained unspoken for so many years, especially after their friendship ended. Now, as Tashi finally broached the subject, it felt like too much time had passed to address it.

“It’s one of their favourite things to do together,” Tashi explained. “It’s one of the few things she does without needing a cartoon or musical playing in the background. She really enjoys it, especially when Art joins her.”

Blair sighed and rubbed her forehead. “I don’t want to talk about Art, Tashi.” Tashi relented, nodding and averting her eyes. “What’s her name?” she asked.

Tashi lifted her arm, readjusting the bracelet and letting Blair see the letters printed there: LILY ❤️.

A lump formed in her throat, and Blair’s eyes stung as she tried to hold back the tears threatening to spill. Her chest tightened with the effort to maintain composure, exhaling slowly to calm her nerves. Lilies were always one of their invisible strings as friends, a sign from the universe that Blair was put on this earth to be Tashi Duncan’s best friend. Now, they were a reminder of their broken friendship and Art, the boy who always bought Blair lilies to brighten her dorm at Stanford.

Even though the thought of a little girl who was half Tashi and half Art warmed Blair’s heart, she kept her guard up. She had been stung by her ex-best friend too badly to forgive and forget over one kind gesture.

“Why am I here, Tashi?” Blair wondered. Even after all these years, it was odd not calling her T, the affectionate nickname she had used since she was fourteen.

“I need your help.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’re the only person who can fix this.”

“What are you talking about? You’re being so cryptic,” Blair complained. “Just tell me the truth. You owe me that much.”

Tashi inched closer. “Okay, I’m sorry. Look, why don’t we get a drink and then talk?”

“I don’t drink.” The pointed manner in which Blair said this wasn’t lost on Tashi, who cringed a little.

“I know. We could get tea?” Tashi offered.

Blair raised an eyebrow and studied her expression. Scrutinising her ex-best friend’s desperate – yet seemingly genuine – eyes, Blair wondered if there was any hidden motive behind her words. After so many years apart, she was painfully aware that she would never truly know if Tashi was being honest or deceptive. It had been too long since Blair could tell her every thought and emotion from one glance.

All she could do now was trust her gut and hope she wasn’t walking into a trap.

“Tea sounds fine.”

Together, they walked through the lounge and approached the bartender to ask for boiled water and tea bags. As Tashi ordered, Blair’s eyes swept the room, and her heart dropped to her stomach when she made contact with a familiar pair of lake-blue eyes.

Patrick.

He was equally stunned to see Blair, doing a double take as his flirtatious smile gave way to a yearning expression. His eyes widened, and his lips parted like he couldn’t school his face and hide his true feelings.

She hadn’t seen him in a while, a very long, painful while, and Blair had missed him despite everything.

A wave of panic surged through her, her heart aching with a force she hadn’t anticipated. Blair’s pulse quickened, and her breath caught in her throat, unprepared for the flood of old emotions rushing back with such intensity. It was a confusing mix of fondness and anger, both longing for what once was and resenting the pain Patrick had caused her.

“Is everything okay? What–” Tashi caught sight of Patrick and frowned instantly. She rolled her eyes, infuriated that he had to appear now, the night Blair finally agreed to speak with her. “Unbelievable,” she muttered angrily. “Do you want to go up to my room?”

“W-What?” Blair stammered, meeting her eyes. It hurt more than she thought to wrench her gaze away from Patrick; it left you feeling empty.

“We can take our tea up and talk there, away from prying eyes,” Tashi explained, looking at Blair with meaningful sympathy.

Tashi was giving her an escape.

Well, sort of.

“Will we be alone?” Blair asked anxiously.

It was like choosing between two evils; being stuck with Patrick or Art. Blair didn’t know which would be more eventful or painful.

“He’s with my mom and our daughter,” Tashi assured her. “It’ll just be us.”

“Yes,” Blair agreed, nodding. “Let’s go to your room.“

Once the thermoses filled with boiled water came, Blair followed Tashi to the elevators. She pressed the button, waiting impatiently for the elevator to arrive so they could avoid Patrick.

Of course, he wasn’t going to let the opportunity to speak to Blair slip by him. “Blair–”

“What the f*ck are you doing here?” Tashi interrupted Patrick, crossing her arms and glaring at him.

Blair and Patrick stared at each other. It hurt how good he looked after all this time. Blair actually liked the beard and shorter, styled hair on him. He looked more mature, and the reminder of all the time that had passed since she last saw him made her heart ache.

Blue-green eyes flickered from Blair to Tashi. “I’m playing at the Challenger,” Patrick explained, trying to mask his irritation. He didn’t appreciate her interruption, and his image of her changed drastically when he found out why Blair and Tashi stopped being friends at Stanford.

“Yeah, I know that. But you’re not staying here, are you?”

Patrick shook his head. “No. Why are you staying here? I assumed you guys would rent a villa or something.”

Tashi sighed. “Lily likes hotels.” Patrick stared at her, not recognising the name. “Our daughter.”

“Oh,” Patrick mumbled, disinterested. He couldn’t keep his eyes off Blair, hands clenched into fists to stop himself from wrapping his arms around her like he used to. “As lovely as it is to see you again, Tashi, do you think you could give us a minute?” he wondered.

Tashi frowned, looking over Patrick’s shoulder and spotted the brunette at the bar watching him in confusion. “Are you on a f*cking date?”

Blair shut her eyes, frustrated and overstimulated. The two of them hadn’t been together in years, but it was gut-wrenching to hear that Patrick had happily moved on after everything they went through together.

“No. Well, yeah, but it’s not–” Patrick paused to rearrange his thoughts. “I just need a place to sleep,” he confessed dejectedly.

“What? Wow.” Tashi tried not to laugh.

“Can’t all stay at the Ritz,” Patrick retorted.

“Actually, you could if you wanted to,” Blair snapped, finally having enough of Patrick and Tashi’s verbal acrobatics. “Your meagre financial situation is entirely self-inflicted.”

Hurt painted Patrick’s features, and Blair found it both painful and satisfying that she was the cause of it.

“Okay, well, can you seal the deal and leave?” Tashi complained. “You’re on opposite sides of the draw. You’re not gonna play each other unless you’re both in the final.”

“I don’t think we have to worry about that.”

“No, you typically fall apart in the second round,” Tashi snarked.

Blair was done listening to their petty fighting. “Hey, Tashi, I’ll be there in a second,” she interjected. Even though she hadn’t seen Patrick in years, it hurt to hear Tashi berating him. He’d meant so much to her for so long, and she couldn’t listen to it any longer.

Tashi eyed Blair carefully, pursing her lips and nodding. “Do me a favour. Stay the f*ck away from us,” she told Patrick before she walked down the hallway to give them some privacy.

Blair didn’t know what was worse, hearing Tashi yell at Patrick or standing alone with him.

“So, uh, how are you?” Patrick asked nervously.

Blair couldn’t think of any time he’d been nervous around her, not even the day they broke up. Maybe the day he asked for her number at the Junior US Open, but that felt like a lifetime ago.

“I’m okay,” Blair replied. “Getting ready for the US Open and, uh, reconnecting with old friends, I guess.”

“Wow. So that’s back on then? You and Tashi?” He didn’t even try to hide his distaste.

“No, not at all. She just texted and I thought I’d see why she reached out,” Blair explained. “Listen, Patrick, I should let you get back to your date–”

“I know I don’t deserve your time after what I did but I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry,” Patrick blurted out. Blair paused, watching him with big eyes and waiting for him to go on. “That night? It’s the biggest regret of my life.”

“You don’t have to–”

He looked at her knowingly. “Yes I do. I shouldn’t have done it, I should never have given you that ultimatum. I was an idiot, Blair.”

“Patrick–”

“I should never have said that you had to say yes or we had to break up. Letting you go is the biggest mistake I ever made.” Patrick glanced at the shiny floor of the hotel and shook his head in disappointment. “I should never have told you to walk away.”

Blair smiled sadly, trying not to cry. Her lower lip wobbled, and her hands trembled. “We weren’t ready, Pat,” she whispered.

“I think we were.”

“No, we weren’t,” Blair insisted. The memories of that heartbreaking day crashed over her mind like relentless waves, devastating her in an unforgiving flood of sorrow. “If the only options are to marry you or break up, then we weren’t ready.”

“I never wanted anything more,” Patrick insisted desperately. Blair believed him. The anguish shone in his eyes today like it did all those years ago, the longing and devotion. “And I’ve never wanted it with anyone else.”

“I know, Pat. I know you did. But relationships can’t be all or nothing, not for me.”

With red eyes, Patrick stared at her sadly. His bottom lip quivered like he was fighting off tears. Blair had never seen him like this, not even the night they broke up. “I needed to be your everything, anything less hurt, Blair,” he confessed. “It still does.”

“And that’s how I know we weren’t ready,” Blair declared.

Patrick was always a paradox.

He was complex and inspired emotions in her at a heightened level she’d never experienced before loving him. But with that came a blurred line between fantasy and reality; he was inconsistent and contradictory, and the struggle between love and torment was exhilarating and heartbreaking.

“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry,” Patrick said when Blair was lost for words. He tucked his hands into his jeans pockets and took a few steps back, not wanting to crowd or pressure her. Nodding awkwardly, he bowed his head in farewell and turned to leave the hotel.

“Pat?” Blair called after him, voice cracking with emotion. He stopped to listen. She had replayed that night so many times over the last eight years, fantasising about how things might have gone if she and Patrick stayed together. “If we had waited and figured things out, really talked through everything and made sure we were ready… I would have said yes if you asked me again,” Blair revealed.

Patrick didn’t turn around to look at her until he heard her footsteps grow quiet. Blair joined Tashi and stepped into the elevator with her, so Patrick risked one last look at her. When the doors shut, he reached under his shirt and pulled out the gold chain that hung from his neck, fiddling with the engagement ring he bought Blair nine years ago.

He hadn’t taken it off since the night he proposed to her in Atlanta, the same night they broke up.

Chapter 6 Chapter Text

RITZ-CARLTON. NEW ROCHELLE, NEW YORK – JULY 29, 2019. 08:13PM.

Blair walked with Tashi to her hotel room, each step feeling as familiar as it did daunting. The last time she felt this unsure walking through a hotel with her was when they visited Art and Patrick before their final at the Junior US Open. Except that unsureness was surpassed by an excitement to see them again.

That night was, in many ways, the beginning of the end.

Tashi used her keycard to open the door and let Blair in first. She hesitated, glancing between the doorway and her ex-best friend as she thought of what she might see in Art and Tashi’s room.

With her heart racing and palms sweating, Blair mustered the courage to enter. Her eyes landed on the familiar skincare products on the bedside table, the ones Tashi had sworn by for years. Her gaze then shifted to the old leather-bound notebook on the desk, a gift she had given Art for Christmas the first year they dated, now a relic of their shared past. The mingling scents of their perfumes hit Blair next, a blend both comforting and foreign, causing a wave of nostalgia to crash over her.

When she finally had her fill of investigating the room like a detective for clues, she turned to see Tashi looking at her expectantly.

Blair blinked twice, refocusing. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“I asked if you wanted green or chamomile,” she explained, holding up two unopened sachets of tea for her to choose from.

“Whichever you don’t want,” Blair decided, shrugging. The bed was perfectly made, and she supposed she could have chosen somewhere else to sit, but she felt like she might faint unless she found a seat. Awkwardly, Blair motioned to the bed, asking for permission.

“Of course, sit,” Tashi granted frantically, almost as flustered as Blair.

She expected having Blair in her room would be strange, but didn’t realise she would be so nervous. Suddenly, she wanted Blair to think highly of her, even though she had given up on that long ago after that fateful fight that ended their friendship. Even the way Patrick glared at her downstairs rattled her a little. He had so much loyalty and respect for Blair, which he no longer had for her since she broke Blair’s heart.

Maybe that was the real reason he came to see her in Atlanta all those years ago, to get Blair to cut ties with him for good.

As Tashi poured the hot water into two teacups, Blair sat on the bed and tried not to let the weight of it all hit her. Sitting on the edge of the hotel bed, she felt an unsettling intimacy and alienation as she nervously traced patterns on the unfamiliar quilt. Despite the lingering personal touches, the impersonal sterility of the hotel room offered her no real insight into the life Art and Tashi now shared. She was left grasping at fragments of the past, and it made her feel sad and hopeless.

At least when she was with Patrick, Blair had the comfort of not being alone. Seeing a glimpse of Art and Tashi’s life together made her painfully aware of how long she had been alone.

No best friend, no boyfriend, no husband, and no daughter.

Blair allowed herself to ask one question about Art. It was the polite thing to do, and then they wouldn’t have to awkwardly avoid the elephant in the room. After all, he was Tashi’s husband – and player – and was bound to come up in conversation.

“How’s Art doing?” Blair questioned, trying to keep her voice neutral. “I heard on the news he had surgery less than a year ago.”

“His recovery was almost miraculous,” Tashi replied, sitting beside her and passing Blair a plain white hotel teacup and saucer. “So he’s managed to adjust to his new routine really well despite everything that happened. His body hasn’t given up on him, but he isn’t quite there mentally yet. That’s the major obstacle for him.”

Blair wanted to comment – typical Art, always stuck in his head – but said nothing. Instead, she wondered, “He isn’t quite where yet?” After saying it, she silently cursed herself. That was two questions about Art. Blair was only going to let herself have one.

Tashi quirked an eyebrow as if she couldn’t believe Blair had to ask. “Where he needs to be to complete his career grand slam,” she reiterated.

“Oh, right,” Blair said. The disappointment that everything led back to tennis sank in. She felt her shoulders slump and breath hitch, a subtle shift that went unnoticed by Tashi, who had forgotten many of her nonverbal cues. “Of course. Well, I’m sure you’ll figure it out before the Open.”

“That’s actually why I asked you here,” Tashi revealed.

She carefully smoothed her expression, hiding the turmoil behind a calm facade as she placed her cup of tea on the saucer with deliberate care. Despite her efforts to look neutral, Blair could read the telltale signs of her preparing herself to say something shocking. Blair’s observant nature picked up on the subtle tension, and they communicated silently for the first time in years when their eyes met hers.

In a warning tone, Blair said, “Tashi,” putting her teacup on the floor. “What’s going on?”

The air between them was thick with unspoken questions, and Blair was nervous. Suddenly, everything was starting to worry her. Why had Tashi reached out after so many years? Why had she immediately raced to Tashi’s side, even though she didn’t owe her anything? Why was it so hard to let go of Art and Patrick when Blair spent more of her life without them than with them? Blair’s instincts prickled with suspicion. Each beat of silence between them felt like walking on a knife’s edge.

“Art hasn’t been the same since the injury,” Tashi explained after a moment of hesitation. “It’s like he was expecting it to put him out of the game forever, and when it didn’t, he realised that everyone was expecting him to come back. So he did, and I thought he’d be fine, but he’s unfocused and unhappy, and it shows in his playing.”

“Tashi, stop,” Blair pleaded, gazing at her with huge eyes. “I already told you I don’t want to talk about Art.”

“ You asked about him!”

Blair scoffed at her weak rebuttal. “I was being polite, Tashi! I’m sitting on his bed with his wife , I thought I might as well acknowledge his existence so we can move on,” she retorted.

“Art’s never going to achieve his career grand slam without you in his life,” Tashi declared. Blair froze. Nothing could have prepared her to hear those words leave her mouth. A palpable silence lingered between them as Blair gaped at her ex-best friend like a fish. Tashi took a deep breath. “That’s why I texted you to meet me. You’re the only one who can reignite his passion for tennis. He never played as well as he did when you were together, and he never played the same when you broke up. The only time he ever played with real fire was when he was playing to impress you, B.” Her old nickname for Blair slipped out so seamlessly that they didn’t notice it. “I need your help.”

Blair shut her eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered.

She stared at her, trying to read her expression. “I never joke about tennis, Blair. You know that,” Tashi replied.

“I’m leaving,” Blair declared in a monotonous voice. “God, I’m such a f*cking idiot, I should never have come. I should have known this was just going to be about you coaching Art or something just as vapid.”

“You know I’m right,” Tashi insisted, trying to keep her voice steady despite the whirlwind inside her. Blair’s stomach knotted at the sure tone in her words. “Ever since you broke up, he lost his love for it. He’s seconds from quitting, I feel it every time he looks at me. He’s tired, Blair. More mentally than physically. But I think you can convince him to keep going.”

Blair’s brows furrowed. “Even if what you’re saying made any sense and I agreed to do it – which I’m not – why would he listen to me?” she wondered, shaking her head. “Why would he care what I have to say? I haven’t spoken to Art in years , he has no reason to let me influence his decisions.”

Tashi leaned closer, her eyes intense. “Because he’s in love with you. He always has been. From the moment you walked out onto the court he’s been hooked and it never went away.”

“That’s not true,” Blair argued with her. “That was a lifetime ago! We were eighteen, he fell in love at first sight, and then we grew up.”

“Do you honestly believe that?” Tashi demanded, incredulous. “I know my husband well enough to know he would do anything you asked. If you told him to leave me and never see Lily again he’d do it in a heartbeat.”

Her heart sank at her words, hurt painting her expression. “That’s a horrible thing to say, Tashi,” Blair whispered, glancing down at her lap. “You have to know that’s not true. I may not know Art anymore but he would never do that to either of you, especially your daughter.”

“He’ll listen to you because he admires you, Blair. Your opinion is his gospel, you know that.”

“No, it’s not. We’re not eighteen anymore. He doesn’t follow me around Stanford with bouquets of lilies, and he certainly isn’t making me friendship bracelets–” Blair threw her hands in the air, trying to think of other examples– “or leaving me romantic notes in my dorm. He married you, he loves you !”

Tashi shook her head, a sad smile playing on her lips. “I know he loves me, Blair. But he longs for you every day of his life,” she admitted, voice wavering. “Like a compass always pointing north, his heart unfailingly gravitates towards you. And now that you aren’t in his life anymore he doesn’t know what the right way is,” Tashi explained. “He’s lost.” Blair felt her throat tighten, her heartbeat pounding at her confession. “He’ll do anything you say. If you ask him to keep playing, he will.”

“Even if that’s true, he can’t play for anyone other than himself,” Blair pointed out. “We know what it takes to make it in tennis, it’s going to take everything he has. If you say his heart isn’t in it then he’s going to quit regardless of what anyone tells him to do.”

“His heart is too busy searching for you to know what he wants,” Tashi retorted. “He’s lost his way and only you can help him find it again.” Her stare bore into Blair’s, unwavering. “If you tell him to push through, he’ll find the strength to do it. I know you care about him, that’s why I’m asking you. Please, just talk to him. See if there’s anything left in him that wants to fight,” she begged.

Blair’s mind swirled with memories of adolescence and the bond she once shared with Tashi. She felt a pang of sorrow, realising how far apart they had drifted. Perhaps all those things she used to say about their friendship were true. It’s like she’s the mirror reflecting the best parts of me back at myself , she had said in the hotel that night. Without her, I’m not sure I’d recognise the person staring back at me.

Blair certainly didn’t recognise the woman before her as Tashi, her former best friend.

“This is awful, Tashi,” Blair told her, thoroughly disappointed with her. “You just want him to push through to win one last grand slam? I won’t be responsible for–”

“I’m not asking you to be responsible for anything. I’m asking you to remind him why he loves the game. Just talk to him. You have a way of getting through to people, especially him,” Tashi insisted. She didn’t seem to grasp Blair’s concern, making Blair feel more distant from her than ever before. “You’re the strongest person I know. And I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t believe you could do it.” Tashi reached out, placing a hand on Blair’s. Blair felt the beads of her friendship bracelet on her fingers and flinched. “Please, B. He needs you, we both do.”

Blair clenched her fists, trying to keep her emotions in check. Her heart was heavy, and it hurt for Art. The fact that he was so unhappy in his career was concerning, especially when Blair had so many fond memories of him playing at Stanford and expressing how much he loved the sport. The weight of Tashi’s request settled over Blair like a dense fog. She wasn’t sure how to navigate the murky waters of this situation.

Blair inhaled shakily. “Tashi, listen to me,” she said in a low tone, showing her that she wasn’t messing around. “If Art is done, then he’s done.”

Tashi shook her head frantically. “No, wait–”

“He shouldn’t sacrifice his well-being for someone else’s expectations. Not yours, not the fans’, and certainly not mine.” Blair’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, voice breaking slightly, “Even if everything you say is true, I would never force him to do something he doesn’t want for himself. You of all people should know why I won’t ever make someone play tennis when they’re finished with it.”

“This is different from what your mom did to you,” Tashi defended herself.

“It’s all the same when you’re living for someone else’s expectations and desires,” Blair replied. With shaking hands, she pushed Tashi away. “You don’t know what that’s like. It’s– it’s like swimming against a riptide and struggling to keep your head above water–” Blair exhaled shakily, the panic from those years returning momentarily– “And the water just keeps getting faster and pulling you under, but it doesn’t matter how much you fight because you’ve already lost yourself.” As the dam of her emotions finally broke, Blair felt the warmth of tears tracing down her cheeks. Her bottom lip trembled as she stood, staring down at Tashi. “I could never do that to anyone, especially not Art .”

“Blair, wait! Just let me explain–”

Blair ignored Tashi, storming out of her hotel room. Her heart pounded with a mix of anger and pain from Tashi’s outrageous request, footsteps echoing down the living room as she let the door to the bedroom slam behind her. Each stride was fueled by the need to escape Tashi, and Blair wiped her face as she wrenched open the front door. Instead of looking out into the empty hallway, she immediately collided with a solid figure.

“Woah! Is everything– Blair?” Art’s deep, familiar voice made Blair stare at him with wide eyes. He halted when he recognised her, and the typical expression of adoration kissed his face. Deep blue eyes wide and breath hitched, Art scanned her features like he couldn’t believe she was real.

The sight of him and everything Tashi had just told Blair brought a flood of overwhelming emotions crashing over her. When Art pulled her in for a hug, Blair didn’t fight it, letting him wrap his sturdy arms around her with a familiarity that almost mended the shattered pieces of her heart. Crying into his chest, the warmth and security of his embrace felt like a balm, soothing her raw emotions and momentarily making Blair feel whole again.

His familiar scent enveloped her, stirring a wave of nostalgia that made Blair’s chest tighten with comfort and longing. The warmth of his strong embrace felt like coming home, his heartbeat steady under her cheek, just like it always was. His whispered reassurances, soft and sincere, made the world outside fade into nothingness.

He was just Art, pure and unadulterated warmth.

As it turned out, Tashi was right. Now that he had seen Blair and held her, he didn’t want to let go of her again.

– – –

RINCONADA, STANFORD UNIVERSITY – OCTOBER 19, 2006. 3:49PM.

“This is so much nicer than my dorm,” Art complained, falling onto Blair’s bed the second she led him into her room. Blair laughed at the ungraceful way he kicked off his sneakers and burrowed himself into her lilac-coloured bedding, relishing in the fresh, earthy, warm scent he now associated with Blair.

“That’s because some of us are into this new thing that makes places pretty and cosy so you don’t feel like you’re living in an empty shoebox,” Blair explained sarcastically, locking the door behind her and placing her backpack on the floor by her desk. “It’s called decorating .”

Art hummed, too busy admiring her sleepily from where he had buried his face in her pillows to banter with her. He watched Blair sit at her desk, her fingers deftly fixing her hair in a loose braid before she meticulously arranged her pens and notes. Smiling, Art marvelled at her concentration. Even though they had just returned from their shared Philosophy class, Blair was ready to prepare for the paper that was just assigned. Every detail – from how she furrowed her brow in thought to the pleased curve of her lips – made his heart swell with admiration. He loved that Blair loved studying. Seeing her passion and discipline ignited a warmth in his chest and a flutter in his stomach that he could never shake.

Blair could feel his gaze on her, a comforting presence that had become an integral part of her Thursday study routine, and it made her smile as she highlighted her assignment instructions. Art’s deep blue eyes, a steady and reassuring anchor, were woven into her day. They were a warmth Blair missed when he wasn’t around, and she tried not to let that terrifying realisation ruin their friendship. At this moment, with the peaceful quiet of the dorm and the shared warmth between them, Blair felt perfectly content, appreciating how their bond had grown into something so beautifully close over the last few weeks.

This had become their Thursday routine. They went to class together, grabbed a coffee or smoothie to reward Art for attending class, and then returned to Blair’s dorm, where she studied for an hour as he watched her. It had been nearly four weeks since the quarter started, and Blair and Art were tethered more closely than her and Tashi these days.

Blair and Tashi were assigned the same residence house when they arrived on campus at the end of September. Both of them were sure it was because Rinconada was a mere ten-minute walk from the tennis centre, which was convenient. After all, they had practice three times a week and team workouts on top of that. Even though it sounded like a lot, the off-season practice schedule at Stanford was far less rigorous than what Blair’s mother and coaches made her do in high school.

In fact, playing tennis at Stanford was far sweeter than Blair had pictured.

Being on the tennis team gave her a built-in community of other women her age and kept her close to Tashi at all times. Her room was just down the hall from her, and now Blair got to train with her almost every day. At times, Blair’s life at Stanford felt like it was orbiting tennis, but even that feeling disappeared after the first two weeks of classes. Without the pressure of her perfectionistic mother, she was actually enjoying tennis.

It allowed Blair to fall in love with the sport based on fun and community rather than competition.

Bumping into Art all over campus was inevitable.

He lived in the same residence hall as her – though not the same building – which meant Blair constantly saw him in the dining hall or during tennis team workouts. After a couple days of dodging him, she realised that Art was unavoidable and indulged in her desire to see him again. Once they discovered they shared an introduction to Philosophy class, Blair knew it would be better to be friends than avoid him.

Blair’s classes were academically rigorous and thought-provoking, and Tashi and Art thought she fit right in. While the two of them were lucky if their attention spans let them take detailed notes for one class, Blair volunteered opinions and debated other students without holding back. The first time she responded to another student in her shared Philosophy class with Art, he couldn’t stop grinning at her. Somehow, Blair just belonged at Stanford. Her classmates and professors liked her, but not as much as the blond who sat beside her.

In just a month, Art had become a vital part of Blair’s college experience and daily routine, his presence seamlessly integrating into her life. Every time their eyes met, she saw his face light up, and a warm flush spread through her, making her feel cherished. Even after he said goodnight after dinner, his deep blue-eyed stare lingered in her mind.

While the sunny weather and friendly people at Stanford made the experience enjoyable, nothing compared to the comfort and contentment Blair felt with Art. His company grounded her in this new chapter of her life.

Most importantly, her conversations with Art didn’t all revolve around tennis. As much as Blair loved Tashi, she had become even more engrossed in tennis, and it was slowly the only thing she wanted to talk about. Art, on the other hand, wanted to talk about what they learned in class and had questions about how Blair grew up and her interests outside of tennis. It was refreshing to get to know someone so quickly, scratching below the surface and really understanding the depths of his personality.

“Do you ever get bored just lying there, staring at me?” Blair asked Art, glancing up from her notes to meet his irises. She felt a flutter in her stomach as she did, studying the glazed-over way he expressed his feelings. Somehow, Blair could tell simply by looking at Art that he was falling for her. She could see it on his face and in his body language. It made her terribly afraid, but she had nowhere to run when their lives at Stanford were so interlaced.

His lips curved into a charming smile that worsened the rapid beat of her heart. “How could I ever get bored when I’m with you?” Art argued, looking at Blair with nothing but utter devotion. “I’ll just tag along with you for the rest of our time at Stanford. By then, you’ll be so used to me that you won’t even question when I keep doing it afterwards.”

“You can’t just say things like that,” Blair whispered, avoiding his stare when it all became too much for her. “You’re betraying our unspoken agreement that we’re just going to forget the night in the hotel and be friends.”

Art chuckled, sitting up and letting her duvet fall, revealing his red Stanford tennis t-shirt. “We never agreed on that,” he pointed out.

“Hence the unspoken nature of the agreement,” Blair emphasised.

Art watched her closely, noting how her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her t-shirt and how she kept biting her lower lip. Sometimes, when Art found himself getting a little too honest for her taste, Blair’s eyes would dart away from him, a dead giveaway of her inner turmoil. Knowing her tendency to avoid her feelings, Art felt a pang of frustration and longing. He really liked Blair and wished she would confront her emotions.

To make her smile, Art resorted to her usual way of escaping awkward situations: humour. “Would it help if I dyed my hair brown and started speaking in a Spanish accent?” he asked, referring to Blair’s favourite tennis player.

Blair scoffed, “ Very funny, Arthur.”

Getting up from her desk, Blair approached her bed and playfully pushed Art’s chest. He caught her wrist and held it, smiling up at Blair with those devoted blue eyes of his. Slowly, Art let his fingers slide down her wrist to her palm, making Blair shiver as he intertwined their hands. A surge of warmth travelled up her arm. The gentle pressure of his fingers interlacing with hers felt both electrifying and soothing. Like a silent promise whispered through his touch.

“I made you something,” Art told Blair, his voice so soft and tender that she could only nod.

He rifled through the pocket of his jeans and held a friendship bracelet in his free palm. Blair let out a gleeful laugh as she picked it up, admiring the way Art had perfected the pattern necessary to make the beads on the bracelet look like a vine interlinked with pink flowers. In white beaded letters, he spelt the words DATE FRIDAY AT 7?

As Art waited for Blair’s reaction, his heart pounded with anticipation and dread, hoping she would appreciate the effort he put into making the bracelet. His hand trembled in hers, betraying the facade of calmness he tried to maintain as she inspected the delicate bracelet. Memories of the countless failed attempts flashed through his mind, each lost bead and snapped elastic a testament to his determination to create something special for Blair. Despite the hours spent perfecting the technique, doubt crept into his mind, questioning whether his creation would meet her expectations.

Yet, as Blair lifted her eyes and smiled at him, the weight of uncertainty lifted.

“Did you really make this for me?” Blair asked, bewildered that someone had taken the time to sit down and create something from scratch just for her.

Art nodded, heart warming when he saw tears of joy forming in her waterline. “Do you like it?” he wondered, trying not to let the insecurity he felt crawl its way into his voice.

Blair pulled her hand out of his and slipped the bracelet on, cupping his face and pulling him in for a desperate kiss that rivalled their first one. At that moment, all the pent-up emotions of the past month flooded to the surface, mingling with the warmth of their kiss. Art held Blair close, pulling her into his lap and holding her waist, relieved that they were finally allowing themselves to express their feelings for each other. It was a kiss born of longing and desperation, imbued with the relief that one of them had finally decided to cross the line between friends and more than friends.

Dragging her fingers through his blond hair, Blair accidentally knocked the red Stanford tennis hat, which he wore backwards, from his head. She felt the vibration of his groan against her lips when she gently tugged on his curls and smiled, satisfied that she had elicited a reaction from him. He tilted her face and met her lips in an ardent kiss that left her shivering. Blair kissed Art over and over again, and it never felt like enough, no matter how many times she did it. He was everywhere. Touching her hips below her t-shirt, brushing her face gently with the pads of his thumbs, pulling her closer with a fervour she had never felt before. Art only broke for air to kiss down the expanse of her neck and across her collarbones as Blair sighed happily.

He pecked her lips once before leaning back and grinning. Blair almost wanted to cry seeing Art like this. His blond curls were windswept, and his lips were red and perfect, and it hurt that he was so beautiful. Pink dusted his cheekbones and chest, and his hands lightly ran up her thighs like in the hotel that night.

“I love it,” Blair answered Art’s question, indulging in a sweet kiss to emphasise her point. “Thank you, Art. Nobody’s ever…” She cleared her throat.

“I know,” Art admitted. He held Blair’s hand, brushing his thumb across the beads he had arranged and smiling. “You told me the night we met, at the party. I stand by what I said, they’re all idiots. You deserve the world, Blair.”

Admittedly, the bracelet felt like a sign.

It gleamed in the sunlight, a delicate web of beads woven together with care and precision by Art’s hands, a tangible testament to his thoughtfulness and effort. As Blair admired it, a warmth spread through her body. It wasn’t just about the bracelet, but what it represented – the culmination of their shared moments and his genuine understanding of her passions.

Looking into his eyes, Blair felt a sense of belonging she had only known with Tashi in the past. With each glance at the bracelet adorning her wrist, she couldn’t help but smile, knowing that it symbolised the beginning of something beautiful between them. It was as if all the puzzle pieces had finally clicked into place. In Art’s gesture, Blair found the courage to lower her defences. It didn’t feel necessary to run away now that he had been vulnerable with her.

It wasn’t just about the friendship bracelet but the unspoken promise of it. Blair truly believed that Art would cherish her heart as tenderly as he had crafted the beads on her wrist.

“So…” Art trailed off, laughing nervously. “I was supposed to give you that bracelet a few days ago, giving you more time to think about going on a date with me, but I lost my nerve so many times and now I’ve only given you 24 hours notice and I don’t want you to feel rushed, so–”

“Pick me up tomorrow at seven,” Blair interjected. “I’ll be waiting.”

– – –

ONE WEEK LATER

From: [emailprotected]
To: [emailprotected]
Date: October 25, 2006
Subject: Hello from the road

Blair,

When little Artie told me that he had a girlfriend, I knew I had to find a loophole in our agreement and ask you what the hell you see in that guy. I mean, I know he’s good-looking, amazing at tennis, rich, and an overall decent guy, but I just don’t think he’s good enough for you. (Tone is hard to convey over email, I hope you know I’m kidding. I’m happy for the both of you, you’re one handsome couple) Since I asked Tashi for her number and therefore forfeited all rights to yours, I hope you don’t mind that I managed to swindle your email out of your boyfriend.

How are you? I bet you’re loving Stanford. You must walk into any room and have no shortage of admirers.

I would know. I was one of them.

Patrick

– – –

From: [emailprotected]
To: [emailprotected]
Date: October 26, 2006
Subject: RE: Hello from the road

Dear Patrick,

It’s so great to hear from you! Tashi told me a little about your matches so far. Good to know you’re still kicking ass, even once you’ve gone pro. (Not that I expected anything less of THE Patrick Zweig.)

Technically, I’m not Art’s girlfriend. We’ve just been on a couple dates (which have, of course, been amazing) so we haven’t made anything official yet. Maybe once we hit the one-month mark, I’ll ask you for some advice? After all, you managed to bag Tashi Duncan, so you must be doing something right.

No admirers so far, although I wonder how many of them would dare to speak up when I’m usually flanked by Tashi and Art. Not the most welcoming sight, but they’re great. I love having them here. It makes everything feel more like home.

You’re right. I love it here. My English classes are amazing, and the professors are incredible. Everything is even better than I imagined. I’m taking a legal studies class that’s kicking my ass, but it’s the most interesting thing I’ve ever studied. I know it’s only one class, but it’s really making me consider attending law school after all this. There’s just something about memorising all the cases and analysing the arguments that challenge me in a way I’ve never been challenged before.

This must all sound terribly boring to a literal pro tennis player. How are you doing? Are you getting along with the other guys on tour? Do you miss Tashi a lot? I bet you do. What city are you in? What city has been the worst so far?

Tell me everything!

Love,
Blair

– – –

From: [emailprotected]
To: [emailprotected]
Date: October 28, 2006
Subject: RE: Hello from the road

Dear Blair,

I think you’d make a brilliant lawyer. After all, you do have a comeback for everything.

I’m good, the tour isn’t exactly what I thought it would be, but it’s not bad. The other guys are okay. They’re no Art Donaldson, but they’ll have to be good enough for now. I do miss Tashi. I miss all of you. Right now, I’m in Nottingham, but I’m catching a flight to Louisville in a few hours. There’s a Challenger there in a couple days. On to Nashville after that. Every city’s been great so far, actually. No complaints from me.

I can just imagine Art and Tashi glaring at everyone who wants to approach you like they’re your bodyguards.

So much for not being your boyfriend, I heard otherwise! And you didn’t go on a couple dates, you’ve been on six dates. In two weeks. Sounds like Stanford’s nowhere near as hard as they say it is if you’ve got all this time for tennis and dating. (Again, hope you can tell that I’m joking)

To be honest, the constant travel and competition makes me feel a little lonely sometimes. I call Tashi whenever I can, but it’s not the same as being there with her in person. I’m constantly surrounded by people, but it’s all very disconnected, like I’m on the outside looking in. I feel like my life’s going by, and I’m watching it like a movie instead of doing things. Is that crazy? It sounds crazy. Without Art, the matches feel harder, and the victories don’t mean as much.

I don’t know why I’m telling you all this, you must be busy with practice and school. And I know you don’t want to talk about tennis.

I knew you would love Stanford. You’ve got that whole quiet contemplative thing about you that people at college really love. I could use some of that these days.

Patrick

– – –

From: [emailprotected]
To: [emailprotected]
Date: October 28, 2006
Subject: RE: Hello from the road

Dear Patrick,

I know exactly how you feel. To be honest, that’s one of the reasons I’m so glad my mom let me quit playing tournaments while I’m in college. She doesn’t know that I’m quitting tennis after Stanford (and I can’t wait for that trainwreck of a conversation) but I used to feel so isolated and disconnected at those tournaments. People aren’t usually looking for friends, and all the constant competition made me feel more lonely than victorious.

I’m sorry you haven’t found your footing on tour yet. But you aren’t crazy, Patrick. You’re a great player and an even better guy, so I hope things start working out for you soon.

Just know that you’re more than your victories and losses. That’s what my dad used to tell me when I got too wrapped up in everything. Behind the tennis player, there’s a person.

Take some time off, go sightseeing, and ask the nicest person on tour to get coffee with you. And call Tashi and Art more because I know they love hearing from you. Maybe they’ll make you feel closer to home too, just like they do for me.

You may be right about me and Art. I guess I don’t want to be too hasty because I keep thinking I’m in some sort of dream, but then I look at him and he’s just… Art. Pure and unadulterated warmth.

Oh yeah, Stanford’s a cakewalk. All that stuff about it being hard and time-consuming is total bullsh*t. Once you’re here, professors just give you an A for showing up. (Can you tell that I’m joking? I’m in the library procrastinating an eight-page paper on a concept I barely understand. Send help!)

Art and Tashi are exactly like bodyguards! That’s the perfect way to say it!! They just have those faces that look so serious if they’re not smiling, and I guess that can be intimidating if you haven’t seen them so drunk off their asses that they cried when they found out that beavers mate for life, as I have.

Also, drunk Art really knows how to throw it back. Who knew he had all that cake on him?

Let me know if I can help in any way. As it turns out, tennis is a cruel lover but I keep coming back to it. The breakup with tennis is more of an on-again-off-again situationship. Too complicated to explain. But we don’t have to talk about tennis. I’m always around if you need to talk about anything.

Good luck in Louisville!! I hope you make some friends soon.

Love,
Blair

Guilty As Sin? (oc version) - solemnarration (2024)

Chapter 1

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Chapter 2

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Chapter 3

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Chapter 4

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Chapter 5

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Chapter 6

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References