the hot-for-teacher fantasy (ta!harry x student!y/n)**
summary: when y/n discovers her charming, handsome college teaching assistant harry styles is also a porn star, it awakens intense lust and longing. one day, harry calls her for a private study session. she wonders what he'll teach her, oblivious that harry knows everything.
words: 4k+
warnings: flirting, fluff, smut. p in v sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, kissing, dirty talk, creampie.
***
Y/N tried hard not to stare at her extremely good-looking teaching assistant during her Friday college lecture. But Harry Styles was just so hot, with his messy brown curls, bright green eyes, and perfect smile. His tight polo shirt clung to his muscular chest and shoulders. Y/N had to look away before she started imagining what he looked like without his shirt on.
"Girl, you're drooling again," her friend Liz teased in a whisper, nudging her.
Y/N blushed. "No, I'm not!"
Lately, she couldn't stop thinking dirty thoughts about the charming TA. His deep voice and confidence made it impossible for her to focus. There was something really familiar about Harry too, but she couldn't figure out what.
During the break, Harry passed back their graded essays. Y/N's breath caught when he got to her row.
"Nice work on this one," he rumbled, handing her the papers with a crooked grin and letting his fingers brush hers.
"T-thanks," she stammered, flustered by his touch and scent.
After class, Y/N rushed out, head spinning. Harry was just too much for her self-control sometimes. His flirty vibe and hints of his ripped body under his clothes made her imagination go wild.
Later that night, Y/N was scrolling online when she saw a weird tweet from her friend.
"'Who knew our former classmate had such an unexpected second career?'" she read out loud. "What does that mean?"
Curious, she clicked the link...and her jaw dropped. Short video clips played of a VERY naked Harry, putting on an X-rated show! He slowly stroked himself while staring intensely at the camera.
Y/N watched with wide eyes, feeling heated. So THAT'S why Harry seemed so familiar - he was a porn star!
For the next few weeks, Y/N tried to act normal around Harry in class while secretly reeling over his shocking second job. Every time he handed back papers or leaned across her desk, new fantasies popped into her mind of him in those porn videos.
Flashes of Harry's chiseled body and sexy pouts made Y/N shift in her seat, growing wet. She started touching herself at night while rewatching his videos, wishing his large hands were on her instead of himself.
"Hey, everything okay?" Harry asked after catching Y/N spacing out for the third time that lecture. "You seem...distracted."
Y/N snapped out of her daze, cheeks burning.
"What? Y-yeah, I'm fine. Just a little out of it today."
Harry's brow furrowed, but he let it go and continued his notes. Y/N scolded herself - she needed to be more careful or he'd suspect something!
The semester continued torturously, with Y/N longing for the sweet yet filthy TA. She devoured every new porn clip, imagining his deep groans were because of her. Harry remained perfectly charming and professional, driving Y/N crazy.
***
One evening, he asked Y/N to stay after for help studying. Her heart pounded as they were finally alone together. Harry was dressed casually in a soft t-shirt that clung to his biceps and tight jeans that left little to the imagination.
"So, what did you need help with?" Y/N asked, trying not to stare at the bulge in his crotch.
"Actually..." Harry shut the classroom door and turned to face her with a smirk. "I know what you've been up to."
Y/N paled. "W-what do you mean?"
In one swift move, Harry crowded her against the wall, hands braced on either side of her head.
"I mean, I know you've seen my...other job," he breathed, leaning so close she could smell his sandalwood cologne. "Judging by how distracted you've been, you must be a fan.I know what you've been up to," Harry said, his voice low. "In fact, I have proof."
Y/N felt her face flush. What could he possibly know? She racked her brain but came up empty.
Harry reached into his bag and pulled out Y/N's notebook from class. He flipped through the pages until he landed on one with "H ❤️" scribbled in the margins.
"This looks an awful lot like the little doodles I've seen pop up in the chat during my streams," he said with a raised eyebrow.
Y/N's heart pounded. He knew about her watching his porn! She opened her mouth to protest, but Harry cut her off by capturing her lips in a searing kiss.
"Wanted to do this for ages," Harry growled between heated kisses down her neck. "Could feel you eye-fucking me every class."
"Harry..." she gasped as he palmed her breast. This had to be a dream!
Y/N instantly melted against him, whimpering into his mouth. They kissed hungrily, all the pent-up tension finally unleashing.
"You taste so fucking sweet," he groaned against her racing pulse in that smoky, ruined timbre that immediately flooded her core with fresh arousal. "Been driving me mad, pretty girl. Had to have you."
She had spent countless nights alone getting herself off to the fantasy of Harry - the casual acquaintance turned porn star she had established an embarrassingly strong fixation on. In those frenzied moments of pleasure chasing, her imagination had run wild with what it might feel like to have his large hands on her, to experience his undivided intensity and passion in the flesh.
But nothing could've prepared her for the reality. For this soft, reverent side of him she never could've pictured behind that dirty-mouthed and cocky boldness of his videos. Harry was watching her with those mossy green eyes, hooded but shining, his warm gaze flickering over her flushed face like she was the most precious thing in the world.
Y/N traced her fingertips over the sharp jut of his cheekbones, down the carved column of his throat, savouring the tickle of his rough stubble. She wanted to bottle the rich, woodsy scent of his cologne and sweat, to keep this moment perfectly preserved somehow. This exact pocket in time when Harry was focused solely on her, that made her heart swell and thighs quiver.
When she nodded mutely in response to his question, Harry leaned in to capture her lips in a slow, searing kiss. One large palm cradled the back of her skull, tilting her head for the perfect angle to lick into her mouth with slow and soft sweeps of his tongue. The other hand splayed over her ribs, fingertips trailing up to graze the underside of her breast, each pass lighting tiny sparks across her sensitive skin.
A soft keen parted Y/N's lips when Harry finally palmed her fully, the rough pads of his fingers finding her peaked nipple. His mouth instantly set to work soothing her desperate whimpers with deeper, more heated sweeps of his tongue. He continued paying homage to her breasts with laving kisses until she was writhing and panting.
"So pretty," murmured that devastatingly deep rumble. "So fucking soft and perfect for me, love."
Harry punctuated the dark praise with a sharp nip to the upper swell of one breast, soothing away the faint sting with rich swirls of his talented tongue. Y/N's back arched involuntarily, a strangled moan shuddering from her chest as the flare of pleasure echoed all the way to her clenching core which was already throbbing with need.
She grabbed at Harry's broad shoulders, tugging to seek out more delicious friction. But he seemed determined to drag this out as long as possible - their position putting her at his command as he mapped every inch of her squirming form in unhurried exploration.
His talented mouth continued blazing an open-mouthed path down her sternum, across the quivering plane of her belly, all while his callused palms held her hips in a firm, grounding hold. When his lips finally met the juncture of her parted thighs, Y/N let out a garbled keen, head thrashing against the hard floor.
Harry shushed her gently, nuzzling against her damp curls as his huge hands anchored her bucking hips in place.
"I've got you, sweetheart," he rumbled, hot breath ghosting over her sensitized flesh and dragging a desperate whine from her chest. "Be a good girl and let me take care of my pretty girl, okay?"
Y/N's chest felt fit to burst from the tangled storm of arousal, tenderness, and pure longing that seemingly came out of nowhere at Harry's husked promise to "take care of her properly."
She couldn't find the brainpower to formulate any response beyond a punched-out mewl, utterly spellbound already by the wicked promise in Harry's voice. She lay pliant and trembling as he hooked one of her legs over his shoulder, fully exposing her to the hot sweep of his piercing stare and the first scorching lap of his tongue against her aching slit.
What followed was a hazy, blissed-out oblivion of sensation as Harry set to work devouring her with so much focus. Focus she had only seen on him when he was in deep, grading papers. There were no more teasing licks or tantalizing nibbles - he dove in with determination, sucking at her slick folds and swirling his tongue in swirls around her throbbing bundle of nerves until Y/N was writhing and sobbing out his name like a prayer.
Her fingers twisted in those sweat-soaked chestnut curls, tugging and desperate for an anchor as the exquisite wash of sensation threatened to unravel her completely. Every breathless whine and whimper was duly rewarded with another purposeful flick of Harry's talented tongue, coaxing her higher and higher.
He lapped at her clit, one digit opening her quivering entrance to his assault. He pushed them in, while she arched her back, giving him a deeper angle. Wet noises erupted from between her legs, his two fingers perfectly anchoring inside, swiping against her sweet spot that had her whimpering like a muse.
He fucked his fingers in and out of her, the thick nerves on his arms seeming to be erupting to life. The same hands that she had imagined about, were now inside her cunt, wet and warm with how wet she was.
His other hand joined the slick heat of his mouth, cupping and kneading her bucking hips with possessive surety, it finally pushed her over the blissful edge. Y/N's whole body convulsed as her climax detonated with blinding intensity, keening gasps punched from her chest again and again on each bottomless wave of pleasure.
Through the whiteout ecstasy, she felt her hips being released. Then, powerful arms were scooping her up against Harry's solid chest, enveloping her entirely as aftershock tremors kept rippling through her frame. Her cries were instantly muffled as he kissed her, her taste lingering in their mouths as she drank him in.
"That's my girl," Harry praised, his voice almost low and aching with want. "So fucking gorgeous falling apart on my tongue like that, sweetheart."
Y/N could only whimper helplessly in response and manoeuvred herself closer to his sweat-slicked torso, shuddering at the raspiness of his voice. Large palms stroked soothingly up and down her back as she slowly came back to earth and rejoined gravity.
One calloused thumb caught a stray tear she hadn't even realised fell, swiping it away with tenderness. The gentle gesture finally focused Y/N's senses enough to really look up at Harry - and what she saw stole the breath from her lungs all over again.
His green eyes were molten and hooded, swirling with naked want but also something more profound. Harry gazed down at her with such adoration and protectiveness that another sob rose in her tight throat, heart spasming almost painfully.
"You're so beautiful," he rasped out. One large palm cradled the back of her skull as his lips found her swollen and panting mouth in a deep, searching kiss. "So fucking strong and brilliant and incredible. I've wanted you for so damn long, Y/N. Please let me..."
Y/N couldn't formulate a coherent reply. So instead she silently nodded, her assent between kissing him back with every ounce of frenetic passion burning through her and took Harry's full weight as he rolled them until she was cradled in his lap.
Their kiss turned searing and desperate as Harry skillfully discarded their remaining clothes. Y/N's strangled whimpers and whines were swallowed by his bruising mouth, her slick heat dragging against the hardness of his erection in tortuously light strokes.
Y/N instinctively sought out more of that maddening friction - rocking her hips up to meet Harry's in a desperate grind as she tangled her legs around his trim waist. The low, reverent rumble of approval he let out at her shamelessness made her entire body bloom with heat.
"So eager for me, aren't you love?" he husked against the swollen bow of her parted lips. Not waiting for a response, he sealed his mouth over hers in a lush, filthy kiss that left them both panting for air.
He teased her exactly to that tantalising edge of overwhelming bliss and sheer frustration until she was squirming and mewling into their heated embrace, nails scrabbling at the broad expanse of his sweat-dampened shoulders. At last, Harry tore away from her lips with a ragged groan, panting heavily as they pressed their foreheads together.
She was too far gone to feel self-conscious. The last threads of her self-restraint had snapped the second Harry palmed both cheeks of her ass in those huge, calloused hands and used his grip to pull her flush against the insistent jut of his straining cock.
"Wanted this for so long," he growled against her swollen lips before venturing down to scathe his stubbled jaw along the ultra-sensitive slope of her neck, leaving a stinging trail of fresh goosebumps in his wake. "Laid awake so many nights thinking about having you in my lap just like this..."
Y/N had no capacity to formulate a reply beyond a choked-off moan, hips canting of their own accord to chase that scorching friction. She wanted to whimper out, to beg him to stop teasing them both with this exquisite torment. But he didn't give her a chance, lush mouth finding her peaked nipple and suckling hard, stealing what little coherence she had left.
"Ah! ...H-Harry, please..." she panted out as sparks of both pleasure and sweetest pain lanced through her. She fisted those decadent chestnut curls tighter until he finally released her with a final teasing graze of teeth over her swollen, rosy bud.
He peered up at her with hooded, molten eyes, his pupils blown wide and inky with naked want. His mouth glistened obscenely in the low light. The sight alone nearly cleaved what little rational thought remained.
"Since you asked so sweetly..." he husked, gifting her one more searingly deep kiss before making a trail of open-mouthed licks and nibbles down the center line of her body once more. "My gorgeous girl deserves whatever she desires.Now look at me, love," he ordered, "Need to see those gorgeous eyes when I finally get to be inside my girl."
My girl.
Y/N's whole body locked up with need at his command. Their gazes crashed together in the space separating them - Harry peering down at her, mouth hanging open in blissful agony.
Holding that heated stare, he finally guided the slick blunt head of his cock to her entrance with one broad palm on her hip. They both exhaled harsh breaths in unison as he sank past that initial tight clutch, Harry's brows creasing with reverence while Y/N's mouth fell open on a choked off moan.
"You feel so good, baby, taking my cock like this," he groaned against her neck. "Wanted this pretty pussy for months."
The crude words somehow only turned Y/N on more. She matched Harry's thrusts, overwhelmed by how amazing he felt.
"You feel that, love?" he rumbled in that rasping timbre that immediately stoked the banked embers of her core back to feverish heat. "How fucking desperate you still are for me, even after falling apart so gorgeously?"
Y/N let out a helpless, pitchy noise of agreement muffled feverishly against the solid weight of his shoulder – nodding frantically as he kept up that slick, sinfully light rutting rhythm. Her entire body felt suspended in limbo, torn between too-much and not-enough with each deliberate slide of his cock spreading her wanting folds apart.
"Christ, you should see yourself right now," Harry practically purred in a haze of lust-drunk awe, swiping the pad of his thumb in a teasing circle around her revived, aching bud. When she arched into the contact with a strangled whimper, he let out a rumbling chuckle that reverberated through both their shuddering frames. "An absolute picture...and all for me."
On his final seismic stroke, the thick crown of his erection caught against Y/N's swollen, aching entrance - teasing her to the brink of shattering all over again. She let out a garbled noise that might have been Harry's name or just an incoherent plea, fingernails scrabbling at his back.
"Look at me," he ordered in a low rasp, drawing her hooded gaze up from where their damp bodies joined. Green eyes glittered with undisguised possession when their stares finally met - searing straight through her.
Holding that smoldering eye contact, Harry pressed forward with one inch at a time until Y/N thought she might combust from the sweet stretch and burn. Every shallow exhale punched from her lungs came out a choked whimper, matched by the fevered grunts rumbling from Harry's chest as he bottomed out, again and again.
Y/N's world had narrowed entirely to the joined point of their bodies, her fluttering internal walls struggling to accommodate the exquisite impalement even as fresh arousal flooded her with boneless surrender. She could only cling helplessly to Harry's sweat-slicked shoulders and lose herself in the intoxicating visuals before her - his arm muscles bunching with the strain, those ruddy, plump lips hanging open on ragged gasps.
"Fuck...f-feel so good, baby," he gritted out, words fracturing apart as his hips gave a minute involuntary roll. "Taking me so bloody well..."
A strangled cry escaped Y/N as that tiniest motion lit up every nerve-ending with bliss. Her heels dug into the small of Harry's back in a frantic bid for leverage, for friction, for anything to alleviate this keen edge between agony and rapture. He seemed to read her desperation, dropping his sweat-slicked brow to hers as he found her lips in a sloppy, uncoordinated clash of teeth and questing tongues.
Then he was pulling back in one sinuous torso-roll, finally giving Y/N what she craved as his initial retreat turned into a soul-shaking thrust that punched the air from her lungs anew. Somewhere in the spiraling vortex of sensation, she registered the harsh slam of his hips meeting her own, the strangled cry of gratification Harry loosed against her slack mouth as he set a steadily mounting cadence.
Any hope of finesse or coordination was swiftly abandoned as their shared need mounted inexorably higher. Y/N could only cling on and ride out the tide of Harry's sharp, bouncing strokes - bordering on too much even as every shuddering nerve ending begged for more, more, more...
Before long, his forehead had dropped to brace against her shuddering sternum, the rigid line of his body trembling with restrained power and exertion as his hips jackhammered with unchecked fervor. The slick, fiery noises of their joining felt loud enough to haunt Y/N's every thought from now until the end of time.
She could feel the heated pant of his breaths gusting across her neglected nipples with each punishing grind of their movements coming brutally unhinged. Every snap of his hips shoved impossibly deeper until she was seeing stars behind her screwed-shut lids, a high-pitched whine escaping with each narrow thrust mounting her up the cliff's edge.
Heat and tension built upon itself in a dizzying spiral, a thousand tingling points of rapture spiraling from Y/N's core until her entire being felt engulfed in the storm. Harry's large hand found her sweat-dampened nape and tangled in her hair, drawing her into a searing, wild kiss that only stoked things higher.
The groan he leaked into her mouth was utterly guttural and wrecked as she matched his hectic rhythm – nails dragging down the broad expanse of his quivering shoulders until her next orgasm suddenly crested with blinding force.
This time, there was no oblivion or sweet black voids of unknowing as Y/N came apart. Instead, she remained tethered to the blazing intensity coursing through every fiber, Harry's name escaping on a cracked litany as her release seemed to go on and on in pulsing waves. He swallowed each choked syllable, hips drilling her through the roaring tide until she arched clean off the desktop entirely.
Harry's broken cry of her name might have been reverent, might have been full of desperate adulation as he finally let go – thick spurts of wet heat joining the mess between their bodies as his tempo turned erratic and punishing. Y/N could only hang on with what little quavering strength remained, drifting in the bliss of euphoria.
Eventually, the high tides ebbed and they collapsed in a sweaty, ruined heap upon the desk's surface. Both of their chests heaved like they'd run a marathon, senses struggling to reboot as little aftershocks kept shuddering through their temporarily departed forms.
Incrementally, Y/N floated back into her body and surroundings – the achingly pleasant stretch and ticklish trickle of Harry's slowly softening length, the damp cling of their overheated skin, the stark scent of sweat and sex and desperation sated. She cracked heavy lids, momentarily stunned all over again at the debauched vision of the handsome man draped over and still sheathed inside her.
Harry's summer green gaze was already waiting, twin pools of blown pupils shining through a heavy-lidded swath of mussed chestnut curls. Enraptured affection and lust battled for prominence as he stared down at her, sucking in air like a drowned man breaching the surface. When she met his eyes, he opened his mouth only to release a choked exhalation – clearly as adrift in the tide of their passion as she was.
Y/N lifted one shaky hand to paw clumsily at the damp curls framing his face, caressing his flushed cheek in what she hoped came across as reassurance. Her other arm snaked around Harry's shoulders, anchoring him to her as he nuzzled into the gesture with a shuddering sigh.
This time when he found her mouth, the kiss was slow and deep and almost unbearably tender. Their heartbeats gradually realigned as they savored the languid exchange, prolonging the hazy afterglow for as long as possible.
Harry finally pulled back to mouth a reverent path along the curve of her jaw, words rasping low and ardent against the hammer of her pulse.
"You're so incredible, love," he murmured like a hallowed oath. Full of naked adoration and something deeper that made Y/N's newly reawakened heart clench and squeeze impossibly tighter. "Knew you would be...but god, you fucking ruined me just now."
His raspy chuckle carried an undercurrent of disbelief and familiar self-deprecation. Kiss-swollen lips trailed along the sloped curve of her neck and shoulder as he continued pouring out those hushed, awed confessions.
"Don't think I'll ever look at this bloody classroom the same way again...not after feeling you come apart around me so beautifully..."
After, they lay panting on the classroom floor, limbs tangled together. Y/N traced the bird tattoos on Harry's abdomen, unable to believe this had happened.
"If I had known this is what you wanted, I would've bent you over my desk ages ago," Harry laughed, still looking deliciously rumpled and debauched.
Whatever came next, whatever questions arose about the status of their relationship or the unorthodox circumstances that had brought them here, for now Y/N was content to simply bask in the warmth and connection she felt . Her wondering heart could wait until the morning.
♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡
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when we were teenagers (challengers)
pairings/relationships: tashi duncan x sister!reader, patrick zweig x fem!reader, art donaldson x fem!reader
summary: Tashi Duncan’s younger sister, Ava Duncan, never gets a chance to be seen past her sister’s shadow. When Ava gets injured and Tashi starts gaining fame, the two become more and more at odds with each other. Tashi juggles Art and Patrick while Ava struggles to keep up. When over a decade passes and a peace isn’t reached, either the Donaldsons or Zweigs, either Tashi or Ava, has to come out on top. (7.2k)
a/n: you know the movie was good when you have to rewatch so you have all the info for the fic🥴 with that being said, the dates and stuff may be a little off but i did my best with what wikipedia had to offer. regardless, im a patrick zweig stan 4L. anyway, as always, ur interaction is greatly appreciated, ily<3
warnings: description of injury, allusions to sex/almost a smut scene, swearing
in this story, yn is: Ava Duncan
March 16, 2006 //📍home, 9:35pm
The goofy grin on the brunette’s face and the blond’s childish giggle replays over and over in your head. Your mother’s muffled snores mix with Art’s laughs as a smile grows on your face, your eyes closed.
You’ve found yourself in this position too many times, imagining what could’ve been if the cute guys were eyeing you rather than your sister. But you’ve experienced it enough times to not even be hurt by it anymore. No guys approach you at volleyball events, especially not hot ones. So if anything, you find some comfort in lying upside down on the corduroy couch making up scenarios in your head.
The click of the front door forces your eyes open, sitting upright and perking up like a dog as your sister tip toes through the door.
“So…” You rest your chin on your fist, “Which one was it?”
“Shh,” Tashi smiles, pointing to your mom’s closed door. “Which one was what?”
“Come on,” You continue as she stands in front of you, “Which one did you…Y’know.”
“Oh my- Neither of them, Ava.”
“What!?”
“Shh!”
You lower your tone, “Seriously? You were alone with them both and didn’t make a move?”
“It wasn’t like that.” She laughs, “They’re like…I dunno, they’re weird.”
You scrunch your face up, “What, are they gay?”
She pauses, cocking her head.
“They’re actually gay?”
“No, no they’re not.” She giggles, “I just didn’t do anything with them. I mean we kissed but that’s it.”
“Did you kiss the blond?” You interrogate, “I really like the blond…”
“His name is Art and I kissed them both.” She smirks.
You roll your eyes, “Whatever.”
Tashi laughs at you, plopping next to you on the couch and resting her legs across yours.
“They did ask for my number again.”
“What’d you tell them?” You stroke her leg.
“I said whoever wins the match tomorrow gets it.”
“God, I wish.” You sigh, throwing your head back. “I’d kill to see Art just one more time…”
———
May 15th, 2006 //📍home, 6:00pm
You wince as your mom tightens the brace, covering your face in frustration.
“It’s okay, baby.” She kisses your head, “You tell me if you need anything, okay?”
You nod as she presses one more kiss onto your hair before walking out, leaving you alone with your thoughts.
Almost every athlete you know has been injured before, half of the girls on your team are covered in braces and tape all season. A torn ACL seems more like a right of passage than a serious and life changing injury. But when you heard the pop and felt the ligament rip, it was almost immediate; The realization that you very well may never play again. You’re not sure if yours was worse than others or if you’re just weaker, but the trauma of the blistering pain has turned you away from getting back on the court for the last month.
You already can tell who’s on the other side of the door from the lack of a knock. You internally sigh, wanting to be left alone, as Tashi sits at the foot of your bed.
“Hey, I was thinking we could go to the courts today. I could practice with you.”
“Tashi…”
“I know you haven’t been wanting to go but since you just hit a month I was thinking, you know, maybe you’d want to start working again.”
You shake your head, “Tashi, I don’t think I’m ready.”
“When will you be?” She asks, her voice stern.
You stare at her, “I don’t know, Tashi. Why?”
“I’m just saying Ava, it’s not good to stop for this long. Some people never get back out there and you have to at least try.”
“I am trying.” You raise your voice, “My insides tore apart. Sorry if I’m not eager to put pressure on myself again.”
“There’s no pressure I’m just asking you to get up and at least walk on a court again.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
“Why the fuck not?”
“Because I’m fucking scared, Tashi!” You shout, tears falling from your eyes. “I’m fucking scared of it happening again! I am not ready!”
She stares at you, a look that you can only describe as disgust on her face.
“…You don’t even want to drive out there just to see-“
“Get out.” You cover your eyes, a headache creeping up on you.
“Ava, I’m not going to let you waste away in here-“
“Get out of my room or I’m calling mom.” You stare back at her, “Go.”
She stands, giving you one last look of disapproval before leaving, slighting slamming your door behind her.
———
September 18th, 2006 //📍Stanford Tennis Courts, 5:00pm
“Passing…Down the line…Cross…”
Tashi’s grunts echo throughout the court as you throw shots at her, a pile of green tennis balls forming behind you. It took a few weeks but she got you back on the court, just not the volleyball courts. You’ve watched Tashi’s practices long enough to know the game, so when you reluctantly offered to help her train, she jumped at the opportunity.
You zone out, robotically tossing the balls as Tashi dashes across the court. You silently hope for a specific someone show up. Patrick Zweig had your sister in his phone and occasionally in his bed, but Art Donaldson was a free man. The only Duncan in his phone was Ava, an achievement that you pride yourself on even weeks later.
Sure, the two of you aren’t a thing, not the way Tashi and Patrick are. But you’re happy to be anything with Art, so the talking stage that you seem to be stuck in doesn’t bother you at all. You can only pray that it’ll blossom into something. Something meaning you being Ava Donaldson in the near future.
As if you summoned him, a very familiar blond boy opens the wire door, locking eyes with you. Your heart skips a beat when he waves at you, your hand immediately dropping the ball and waving back.
Your sister turns around to see Art, a smile growing on her face as she walks over to him. She wraps her arms around him, pulling him in for a hug as you watch. They barely pull away before Tashi begins chatting, her face too close to his for your liking.
Across the court, they’re too far for you to hear their conversation. But judging from Art’s hand draped over her waist and her arm resting on his shoulder, you see enough to be angry. You can only look down, waiting for the conversation, along with your humiliation, to end.
After an abundance of giggles, Art turns and walks away, giving you another wave.
“I’ll see you.” He smiles.
You purse your lips, terribly embarrassed as you nod, “Yeah. Good seeing you, Art.”
The door shuts and with it, your smile drops. Tashi gets back into position like nothing happened, waiting with her racquet. Playing along, you throw her the ball. Only, you don’t call the drill. You throw with a little more force and much more unpredictability as the anger in you rises.
“Ava…” Tashi calls, frantically chasing the ball.
It’s only when the ball flies past her head, barely missing her, that she stops.
“Ava, what the fuck!?”
She walks toward you, meeting you at the net.
She shrugs, “What’s up, what’s going on?”
“Are you serious?”
She only looks at you, confused.
“Tashi, come on. You were literally all over him.”
“Wh- Art?” She deciphers, “Oh, Ava my bad I didn’t mean- I really didn’t mean to.”
“Yeah, sure you didn’t.”
“Seriously, I didn’t. He’s my friend I was just saying hey.”
“Saying hey with your arms around each other? That’s bullshit, just say you still like him.” You look down, mumbling. “It’s fine, it’s just annoying that you go after every guy I like knowing they’ll choose you.”
“Hey…” Tashi softens her tone, stepping over the net and nearing you. “Ava.”
“What?” You look at the ground.
“I didn’t mean it like that…” She insists, “I’m just stressed with school and stuff, he’s the only one who gets it.”
“Right.” You roll your eyes, not in the mood for ‘I’m stressed,’ to be the excuse for going after your guy. “It’s not like I go to school too or anything.”
“No, I know you do. It’s just…Stanford’s different, you know?”
“Whatever.”
“Ava,” She lifts your chin to look at her, “I’m sorry, okay?”
The two of you ogle at each other as she waits for an answer. She always does this, almost forces you into accepting her apology which you do not.
“We good?” She asks.
“…Yeah, sure.” You shrug, pulling away from her, “It’s whatever.”
Tashi just looks at you once more, seemingly satisfied as she steps back over the net. She gets back into position as you pick up another ball, a look still on your face.
“Down the line.”
———
December 21st, 2006 //📍Stanford Dining Hall, 12:00pm
“How many?” The employee asks.
“Umm, can I have three?” You lean on the counter, “Or four, actually.”
She reaches under the counter before handing you four mayo packets.
“Thanks.”
You start the walk back toward the table, Patrick having picked the one in the far back. He clearly hasn’t returned from the bathroom as you see Art and Tashi still sitting alone. As you near them, you catch a glimpse of their conversation.
“Don’t you think you deserve it?” Art asks, his eyes so focused on your sister that he doesn’t see you walking up. “I mean, who wouldn’t be in love with you?”
Tashi doesn’t respond, only angrily stands and walks away, nearly knocking you over. She passes you, smoke practically coming out of her ears. You watch her go before sitting where she was, handing Art the packets.
“Thanks.” He smiles, “Patrick still in there?”
“I guess so.” You laugh, insecurity lacing your voice as you simultaneously try to decode the conversation they were having.
“I’m so not surprised.” He takes the bun off of his burger and tears open the white packet with his teeth.
You watch him, hesitant to speak. Though, your words spill out before you can stop them.
“Do you ever wish Patrick let you win the match?” You ask.
Art looks up at you, mid squeeze. He cracks an unsure smile.
“What kind of question is that?” He laughs.
“I don’t know,” You do the same, tragically self conscious. “Maybe you wonder what it’d be like to date my sister or something. I don’t know, it’s stupid.” You look down, fiddling with your fingers.
Art pauses, putting his burger down and placing his hands on yours.
“Hey,” He grabs your attention, “I’m here with you today.
You smile, “No, I know. It’s just…She’s like better than me in every way so I wouldn’t blame you.” You chuckle.
“What? I don’t think so, I think you’re great.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t get in to Stanford. Nor do I win all of the tennis tournament or-“
“Ava,” Art stops you, shaking your head. “You’re just as good as Tashi.”
Your eyes tread on each other as you try your hardest to believe him. But you do realize that this is the exact same way he looked at Tashi on the courts.
The two of you are snapped out of it as Patrick returns, taking his seat next to Art.
“Sorry, they had like no toilet paper.”
“Oh good, thanks for letting us all know you took a shit, bud.”
“Whatever. Ava doesn’t give a shit, right?”
“No,” You laugh, “You’re all good, Pat.”
———
📍Tashi’s dorm, 2:00pm
“So if he’s seeing other girls I won’t even fucking know now.” Tashi vents, stretching for her match.
You scroll on your phone, sitting at her desk. “It sounds like he was just trying to be nice, Tash. He was trying to help you out-“
“No, he’s not nice. Nothing about them is nice, Ava. They’re fucking weirdos, both of them. Art just hides behind this persona that he’s so caring and team Duncan when really he wants the same thing from me as Patrick.”
‘He wants the same thing from me.’
You sigh, tired of hearing the same things and watching her run back to them minutes later.
“Then stop complaining and fucking leave him already.”
Tashi stops in her lunge, “What?”
“You keep complaining about them.” You grunt, “If you really didn’t want the attention you’d just drop them both.”
“If I didn’t want the attention?”
“Yes.”
“The fuck does that mean?”
“Exactly what I said.” You say, irritated.
“Ava…” She stands up, looking down at you. You continue scrolling until your phone is snatched from you. “Hey.”
“What the-“
“Do you have something to say to me?”
“Give me my phone back.” You stand up, reaching for it.
“No, say what you mean.”
“Really?” You grab for your phone once more but she pulls it away from you like a child, “Fuck - Okay, Tashi, all you talk about is how hard your life is. How hard training is for a tournament that you know you're going to win. How hard it is dating a famous and touring athlete. How hard it is being friends with the nicest guy who only wants to help you. How fucking hard it is to have two guys fighting over you. How hard it is to go to an ivy league. How hard it is to live the fucking dream. How about you actually do something about it instead of rubbing it in our faces that you're above us and can play with two guys at once because you're so fucking amazing?"
The two of you stand nose to nose, a stance Tashi used to always initiate in order to intimidate you.
“How long have you felt this way?” She asks, her breath shaking.
“Ever since you became the Tashi Duncan and I was left in the dust. Now give me my phone.”
“Are you fucking serious, Ava? You think I asked for this?”
“Asked for what? A great life where you succeed in fucking everything? No, Tashi, you didn't have to ask for it. We worked so fucking hard and only you survived it. I succumbed to my fate, I quit my dream, I went to a shitty college, had shitty friends, watched shitty games, and watched the boys I liked fight for my sister. But no; Please, continue bitching about your hard situation."
You snatch your phone from her hands, walking toward the door. "Good luck at your fucking match."
———
2:45pm
You barely look up as you exit the library, occupied with connecting your earbuds to your phone. It’s only when you see a familiar black head of hair sitting in the common area that you stop.
“Patrick?”
He looks back, taking his feet off of the Stanford branded coffee table.
“Oh, hey Ava.” He makes space for you to sit beside him on the small loveseat. “How’s it goin’?”
“Good, um…” You put your stuff on the floor and sit next to him, “Why aren’t you at the tournament?”
“I could ask you the same thing.” He smiles that same crooked smile from the night you met him.
You curl your legs up, leaving your arm on the back of the seat. “Did y’all fight too?”
Patrick leans back, looking over at you. “Yeah. Yeah, we did.” He laughs.
“What was yours about?” You pry, smiling.
“Uh,” He rubs his eye, “Just…not letting her control me. I’m my own boss kind of shit.”
“Seriously?”
“…Yeah, why?”
“That’s what our fight was about too!” You burst into giggles, “Well, not her controlling me but her controlling you. And Art, him too.”
“Shit, Art too?”
“Yeah, I mean, especially Art. You’re the only one who stands up to her bullshit.”
“Oh yeah?” He asks, “I don’t know, you seem to put up a good fight.”
“Yeah, but I’m her sister. It’s takes a brave man to break free of Tashi Duncan.”
“Oh god, did I break free?”
“You definitely broke free.” The two of you laugh.
“No but I see what you’re saying, she definitely had me whipped.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Like I remember one time,” He turns toward you, getting comfy, “The first time her and I, um…”
“Oh, Jesus.” You cover your face.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He laughs, “But the first time we did, I remember she said she’d leave me if I told anyone. And I was head over heels, so of course I didn’t want to tell, right?”
“Right.”
“But Art’s my guy, y’know? So instead of being straight up and jeopardizing Tashi’s love, we made this stupid ass signal.” He tells in between laughs, “The way that Art serves - Like, you know how he puts the ball at the neck of his racquet?”
“Yeah, yeah.” You listen intently.
“Well, if I served that way, that meant yes, we did sleep together, And if I served my way, it meant we didn’t.”
“…And?”
“Well, I put that motherfucker right in the middle.”
“Oh my-“
You and Patrick erupt into laughs, covering your mouths as the librarian eyes the two of you. Your stomach starts to ache, not being able to remember the last time you had this kind of belly laugh.
“Well, cheers to breaking free of her.” You put your fist up.
“Oh hell yeah, cheers to that.” He bumps it.
———
3:05pm
The crowd outside thins out as you and Patrick head down the back halls and toward the parking lot. In true honor of breaking free, the two of you decided to not say goodbye. Instead, you’d go home without saying a word to your sister.
You’re a few doors down from the exit when Patrick stops in his tracks, looking into the nurses office.
“Tashi…” He walks in.
You enter the doorway, peeking in behind him. Inside, you see Tashi sitting on the table, Art by her side.
“No, out.” Your sister points.
“I’m sorry-“
“Get out!”
“Tashi, listen to me-“
“No, get out!”
“Please-“
“Patrick, get the fuck out!” Art shouts, standing.
Patrick stays for a moment, taken aback as he looks from Tashi to Art. If he has the same vision as you, it’s clear that it’s them against him. It’s no longer Patrick and Tashi, but Art and Tashi.
He looks back at you before obeying, walking down the hallway.
Now alone, you come into full view, nearing your sister.
“Tash, what happened-“
“You too.”
You stop, tilting your head. “What?”
“I don’t want you here, leave.”
“Wh- Are you serious?”
“Ava, I think you should just go.” Art says lowly, wary to step in between you too.
You ignore him, “Tashi, I’m your sister.”
You get no answer, she only looks forward. You look at Art as he stands over her like some bodyguard.
Just as Patrick did, you back away, realizing what this is. You frantically look between the two as you wait for Tashi to change her mind, to see that regardless of what fight you had you’re still sisters. Though, it’s clear that doesn’t mean anything to her, it’s been clear for a while now.
Now, it’s only Art and Tashi.
———
10:03pm
“Coming in from Stanford; Student and highly lauded tennis player, Tashi Duncan, took a hard hit at her match against Pepperdine this afternoon. Sources say a hard fracture to the knee has Tashi in the care of medical professionals. It is unknown if she’ll ever be able to play again.”
The blinding fluorescent lights of the cheap fast food place burn your eyes as you and Patrick look up at the TV.
You bury your head in your hands, groaning.
“Fuck.”
“She probably thinks she’ll never be able to play again.”
“Please, please don’t say that, Patrick. I’ll feel so guilty.”
“Ava, there’s nothing we could’ve done.”
“We could’ve at least showed up.” You rub a hand over your head.
“Hey,” He forces you to look at him, “None of this is our fault, okay? Injured or not, she still treated us like shit. Art only gets to stay by her side because he’s whipped.”
“I just…” You sigh, “I just wish I had been there.”
The two of you stand up, leaving the restaurant. Outside, a huge Adidas billboard with your sister’s face on it dominates the sky.
The two of you get into Patrick’s car, him cranking it up and turning down the radio.
“Let’s talk about something else.”
“Okay.” He nods, looking at you.
“Like…” You think, “Your tour.”
“Oh, God.”
You laugh, “When are you set to go back?”
“Uh, next week I’m pretty sure. But if I’m being honest, I don’t even want to go. I’ve been getting my ass kicked out there.”
“Patrick, Tashi would lose it if she heard you say that.”
He leans in, resting his arms on the center console as he examines your face. “Let’s not talk about Tashi…”
“Okay,” You hold the intense eye contact that he began, “What do you want to talk about?”
His nose is almost touching yours as you unconsciously near him, eyes flickering from his eyes to his lips.
“Let’s talk about you.” He grins, rubbing your waist.
“What do you want to know?”
“Tell me what you like.” He says, lowering his lips to your neck and softly pressing.
“I, um,” You tilt, holding the back of his head as he gets sloppier, “I loved volleyball. My team was out of California but we travelled for tournaments. We ranked…fuck…we ranked second in the country-“
Patrick cuts you off, his lips ravaging yours as he runs his hands over you. You can’t stop yourself from leaning into him, crawling over to sit on his lap. Both of your hands get more and more heavy as he pulls your shirt over your head, tossing it in the backseat.
“Fuck,” You say in between kisses, “Fuck, wait.”
“What?” He looks up at you, “What, is something wrong?”
“Is this wrong to do?” You ask, out of breath. “Should we stop? What about Tashi and Art?”
“They yelled at us to leave when we tried to help.” He reminds you, “Why should we stop when they treated us like that?”
You look at him, convincing yourself that you’re considering it when all you want to feel is your mouth on his.
And you do, pushing the thoughts of Tashi and Art far from your mind.
———
February 15th, 2011 // 📍Zweig condo, 9:30am
5 years later
At one point in your life, it would take you multiple seconds to figure out how to say the dollar amount that you and your husband had in your bank account. Now, as the number almost falls short of five figures, you feel ashamed just looking at it.
You switch tabs on the laptop, the light from the ceiling to floor window behind it hurting your eyes. Scrolling through tournament options, the distances only get further and the prize money higher. Years ago, you and Patrick wouldn’t even consider the amount, as Patrick just wanted to play tennis; And that still holds true, only you’ve been stuck in your ways for so long that he’s forgotten how to play to win.
Nails scratch the hardwood behind you as your golden doodle, Bear, comes barreling down the hall. Right behind him is your husband, chasing the dog around the living room.
“I’m gonna getcha, I’m gonna getcha!” He says, the dog running desperately from him.
You chuckle, “Good morning.”
You hear Patrick give Bear a smooch before walking over to you, wrapping his arms around your neck.
“Good morning, baby.” He kisses your neck, looking at the screen. “Found anything good?”
“Not really,” You groan, frustrated. “I don’t know when these matches got so fucking far.”
“It’s okay,” He strokes your head, “I’m sure there’s one we can make it to.”
You continue scrolling, the qualifier maximum getting smaller and smaller.
“What about this one?” He points.
“Atlanta? Patrick, that’s on the other side of the country.”
“I know, I know. But we can make the trip, no? I hear some of our friends may be there.”
You turn your head, furrowing your brows at him. A sly smile plasters over his face, one that makes you realize all too quickly.
“They’re going to be there?”
He nods.
“God, why would you want to be anywhere near them?”
“We probably won’t even see them, baby. But if they’re there we’ll have a big crowd.”
You think on it, the thought of seeing Tashi making your stomach turn in knots.
“…And look at that winner’s reward money.” He says convincingly.
A sigh escapes you before clicking submit, Patrick’s entry automatically being sent.
“Mm,” He kisses your wedding ring finger, “Thank you, baby.”
“Yeah, yeah.” You jokingly roll your eyes, pecking him on the cheek.
——
February 24th, 2011 //📍Atlanta, 7:40pm
Nausea consumes you as Patrick’s smell fills your senses. The aroma of the city is one thing, the aroma of your husband another, but the scent of your sister’s old perfume radiates off of him like a cancer.
You watch as he sets his coat down, coming behind the couch to kiss you.
“Did you-“ You pull your face away, not able to let him touch you, “Did you see anyone we know?”
Patrick is taken aback, looking at you with a confused smile.
“No…Why?”
His eyes bore into yours as you search for any answer than the one you’re imagining. Though, as he hands you the chinese takeout bag and takes a seat next to you, you find yourself voiding the conclusion entirely; Your mind not willing to believe the man you love would be meeting her.
He wraps his arms around you, watching the TV. As the smell seems to corrupt every sense you have, a tear sneaks into your cheek, the possibility still piercing your gut. Even so, you wrap your arms back around him.
As of this moment, the comfort of hiding in his arms trumps the possibilities of the truth.
——
June 3rd, 2013 // 📍Zweig Condo, 3:00pm
2 Years Later
‘Hey, I know it’s been a while. But if you’re willing, I’d love to come out and see you and the baby. - A ♡’
The ‘Read’ under your message seems to taunt you the longer you stare. Your phone screen is interrupted by a call, ‘Mom,’ at the top of the screen. You answer.
A small gasp escapes you as you’re immediately met with the smallest human you’ve ever seen. You’d know she was Tashi’s in a sea of babies. You wave your husband over, eyes staying on the baby.
“Oh my goodness.” You whisper, “Hi, baby.”
Her eyes stay closed, her hands in small fists.
“Oh, Ava, she’s so beautiful.” Your mom lowly says down the phone.
“Is…” You wipe away a stray tear, “Is Tashi okay?”
The camera flips from the baby to your mother.
“You know you could always ask her yourself, honey.”
“No, I know. But- Just tell them we said congratulations. She’s precious.”
Your mom lets out a sigh as she looks from you to behind the camera.
“Mom, who is that?” You hear your sister’s voice in the background.
Your hands turn clammy, your heart beating faster and faster as she begins to turn the phone to Tashi.
“Um, Mom we gotta go, we’re breaking up. I love you-“
“Wait, Ava-“
“Love you, mom.” You spit out, hanging up and turning your phone face down.
You stare out for a minute, shocked at your body’s response to your sister’s voice. Sobs escape your mouth before you can stop them. You shove your face in your hands.
“Oh, baby.” Patrick holds you, rubbing your back.
“It’s been too long.” You cry, “She fucking hates me.”
“You don’t know that.” He reassures you, “She may come around. You did good.”
———
May 1st, 2019 // 📍New Rochelle, 10:00am
6 Years later
Making it to New York from home took up the rest of Patrick’s savings. The house that you downsized to is completely funded by you and your remote sales salary. Patrick continues to fight a losing battle with tennis, barely able to pay for food for himself every week. Straining your marriage was the last consequence of his money struggles. Though, it has the biggest impact on your day to day. Nonetheless, you remain by his side. In all honesty, you’re not completely sure how to continue anywhere else.
“I’m going to see Art today.” Patrick tells you, downing a handful of trail mix.
“Art?” You ask, holding Bear’s paws on your
thighs, “Why would you do that? It’s been years.”
“I think it’s been long enough, we’re already here.” He shrugs, “I think it might be good for me.”
You focus on Bear, still not seeing a clear reason as to why he’d want to speak to Art after a decade.
“Maybe you should go see Tashi.”
Your eyes snap to him, her name barely being spoken in your house for the last six years.
“…And do what?”
He shrugs, “Might be good for you…”
…
1:00pm
Your stomach seems to twist in a thousand ways as you continuously fix your hair and outfit on the way into the far too fancy hotel. As you pass the lobby, you almost turn around and throw up. But as your sister heads for the elevator, you know this is your one chance to speak to her.
Your shoes thump against the marble floor as you jog after her.
“T- Tashi!” You whisper shout, reaching her just in time.
She turns around. Taking one look at you, she looks to your left and right, utterly confused.
“What are you doing here?” She asks, tone laced with disgust.
It’s been so long. She looks so different, her voice has such a maturity to it. But that dominating energy that she brings everywhere hasn’t changed a bit.
“Well I…” You fumble, all of your practice going out the window. “ I heard you were here, I wanted to say hello.”
“Say hello?” She looks you up and down, turning her full attention to you as she steps forward. “Honestly, I don’t want your fucking hello, Ava. Really, I don’t.”
You shake your head, “Tashi-“
"I can't believe you have the balls to be here. After what you fucking did to me."
"What I-“ You compose yourself, remembering exactly how arguments with your sister always go. “Tashi, what the fuck did I do to you?"
"Are you serious?" She asks, "You're joking, yes?"
"No, I'm really not."
"You left me for 13 years by my fucking self." She raises her voice, "I had a wedding, I had a baby, and where were you? My sister was too stuck on a grudge to ever come back into my life, you're a waste of my fucking time." She begins to walk away.
“Hey.” You follow her, grabbing her arm and spinning her back around.
“Get off.”
"Not one of those events was I invited to, Tash. Not one. If you wanted me back, if you gave a shit, you would've acted like it. But you're not going to sit here and act like I was in the wrong and I should've reached out to you. Hell, I did fucking reach out to you.”
“In the wrong?” She snatches her arm from you. “Ava, are you clinically fucking stupid? You're hung up on a situation from 13 years ago-"
"No, but it's not from 13 years ago, Tashi.” You cut her off, getting in her face. “Because you're doing the same thing right now that you did when you were 18. You're sitting here blaming the world for your life decisions. You're blaming me for being angry that you were and are a narcissist who wants someone else to be the athlete that you never were. Every time I thought of coming back l'd imagine what my sister would say and I couldn't do it. But guess what Tashi, now I see through you. I fucking see it, Patrick sees it, and when Art finally opens his eyes you'll finally see yourself for what you are."
She stares at you, a chuckle escaping her. "Ava, this is pathetic. Genuinely. Because at the end of the day, it's not my fucking fault that you gave up. Now l'm in a position where I don't have to be here. I have a life, a pretty fucking good one, outside of this. Outside of you. This Final, it's practice. It's fucking child's play for us, whereas for the Zweigs...This is it for you. Your last fucking loss.”
“Yeah. Okay Tash.” You roll your eyes, "Keep throwing insults at me to distract from the fact that you're a shitty person."
"I'm a shitty pers- You fucking abandoned your family for 13 fucking years!"
"Because my sister is an insufferable egomaniac who can't accept the fact that her husband doesn't want to do this shit anymore and her tennis life is over!” You shout back, your voices echoing throughout the hotel. “It's fucking over Tashi, give it up. That's why I left you, because you're fucking dreadful! You're dreadful and everyone knows it."
Tashi slowly nods, the hotel staff looking at the two of you.
"...Ava, do you know what your husband does late at night?"
Your eyes widen, your heart skipping a beat as she addresses the unspoken.
"Fuck you." You spit.
"I'm really asking, because from what I experienced...You're a lucky woman."
Now you’re the one with disgust in your eyes, the urge to spit in her face stronger than ever before.
“…Say hi to mom for me, Tashi." You say, your hands balling into fists.
“Happy to.” She utters, walking toward the elevator. “Tell Patrick I’m wishing him good luck.”
…
3:00pm
You only tell your husband bits a pieces of your encounter, not daring to remind him of the man he was in Atlanta.
“I don’t even know why I tried.”
“Both of them are assholes.” He agrees, “At least now we’re sure of it.”
“I guess.” You bite your nails, stroking Bear’s ears. “Patrick you have to beat him in the Final. We can’t let them win.”
“I know, baby.” He nods, on your wavelength. “I know.”
——
May 4th, 2019 // Night Before the Final, 11:25pm
“Pat, it’s really coming down out there.” You look out of the hotel window, tarps flying into the street. “What if they cancel the match?”
“They’d never do that.” He watches the TV, “It should lighten up by morning.”
You hum, snuggling next to him as the bright screen flashes through an action sequence. Patrick’s phone vibrates, his phone brightness lighting the rest of the room.
“Oh, baby.” He shifts his body, making you sit up. “I gotta go.”
“Now? Why?” You try to look on his phone but he pulls it away, scrolling.
“I have to, um,” He rubs his head, looking stressed. “My racquet, I have to pick it up.”
“The fuck does that mean?”
“They just messaged reminding me that we have to have this certain racquet to compete tomorrow.” He stands up, rushing toward the door.
“What- Patrick,” You follow him, “It’s like a fucking flash flood out there, can you not do this tomorrow?”
“Baby, they close at midnight, I gotta go,” He kisses you, “I love you.”
“Patrick, wait-“
“I love you, I have to go!” He shuts the door behind him.
…
12:30am
You have a strange urge to cry as you scroll through Art Donaldson’s instagram. Photos of him and his seemingly perfect family are plastered all over, an ‘@Tashidonaldson ♡’ at the top of his bio.
Patrick never wanted kids, said they’d cost too much and you couldn’t care for them. He was correct about the former, but care for children, you are willing and able to do. But when you married him, he did a lot of the decision making for you.
Now, as he’s blown all of your savings, lost his tennis touch, and been out of the damn hotel room for an hour doing god knows what , you wish you could shout at past you to get a grip.
Though, looking at these picture now, you wish you could do the same to past Art Donaldson too.
———
May 5th, 2019 // 📍New Rochelle Courts, 1:00pm
Final Day
The crowd’s heads robotically turned side to side as Art and Patrick dog it out in a vicious match. You sit in your assigned seat next to your sister, the endless stream of slander not ceasing, not even today.
“Is he retiring after this?” You ask, your head still going between the men.
Tashi shrugs, her expression hidden behind her sunglasses. “Maybe.”
"...I don't think Patrick will ever retire. I think tennis is all he has."
She hums, "If only he'd start winning his matches."
"He doesn't always play for the wins, Tashi."
"Yeah, he plays for the participation money."
"Maybe he does." You say, "At least he does it by choice."
She looks to you, her attention no longer on her husband’s tie breaker. "Art does it by choice."
“Like hell he does.” You scoff, “He wouldn't be retiring after becoming a Career Grand Slam if he wanted to be doing this.”
“Art is an adult, he does what he wants.” She looks back to the court.
“Art is your slave, he does what you want.”
Tashi continues trying to get to you. As Patrick sets for his next serve, he looks in your direction. Only, he isn’t looking at you, he’s looking at your sister. He returns his gaze to Art, placing his ball in the neck of his racquet.
Both you and Art freeze, staring at your husband. The men seem to be in their own world, but Patrick must’ve forgotten that you know too. The word seems to muffle around you as you stare at your husband’s evil grin at Art.
You stand on shaky legs, grasping your stomach as bile threatens to come up.
“Hey…” Tashi calls after you, “Ava, what the fuck are you doing?”
You run to the nearest exit, Patrick’s blatant disrespect and repulsiveness making you want to genuinely die where you stand.
It’s only as you stumble to your car that it truly hits you who the man you married really is, and how he really sees you.
Like everyone else, he thinks you’re a pawn in Tashi’s game. A piece that can be battered and bruised but will never go away, as it’s crucial to the game of Tashi. You want to vomit as you sit in your car, Patrick’s scent sending you into a violent sick.
———
May 14th, 2019 // 📍Zweig home, 12:00pm
9 Days Later
Three knocks at the door echo through your almost empty house. You pause your show, unlatching the chain and opening it.
Patrick stands in front of you, a hysterical attempt of a sad expression on his face.
“Everything’s here.” You walk him in, pointing to the boxes full of his stuff in the kitchen. “The only things that aren’t are your racquets, trophies, cups, stuff like that. Those are in the closet so they wouldn’t get mixed up.”
“Thanks.” He says, feeling like an alien in this house.
“Yeah.” You give him a thumbs up, returning to the couch next to Bear.
He spends an hour loudly moving his things from the kitchen to his car, the sound almost drowning out your show. Regardless, you stay put, wanting him to be done as fast as he can.
“Ava…” He calls over the reality TV. You ignore him, popping another veggie straw into your mouth.
Suddenly, his arm comes from behind you, grabbing the remote and muting it.
“Hey.” You turn around.
“I’m talking to you.”
“Okay, well I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Ava, I’m sorry-“
“Pat,” You chuckle, not being able to keep it in. “Don’t even.”
“Baby, listen to me, okay? I fucked up-“
“Patrick, Patrick!” You stand up, “Just stop, okay? Leave me be, finish getting your shit, and I’ll have the papers served to you by the end of the week.”
“Baby, no. Please.”
“Honey, there’s nothing you can say.” You shake your head, having prepared for his begging days ago. “Go beg to your mistress, yeah?”
He continues rambling, stumbling over his words. “Ava, it was such a bad mistake. I told myself it was strategy and- And because me and her have a complicated past I couldn’t see straight-“
“But nothing about us is complicated, right? We are married, we’re supposed to be a team. But you betrayed me, plain and simple.” You lay it out for him, “You’re a cheater and we’re done, now go.”
“It was a mistake-“
“Patrick…” You inhale, “I’m trying not to lose it, you need to get the fuck out.”
“Just hear me out-“
“Get out of the house, Patrick.”
“We can come back from this, Ava. We can.”
Your jaw hangs agape in genuine disbelief. He seems to notice he fucked up again as he stops speaking. You walk around the couch, getting in his face the same way Tashi used to get in yours.
“Patrick,” You begin, “I gave everything for you. I gave up my life, I gave up my family, I gave up Art, I left it all for you. I abandoned so much to be in your corner because I was in love with you, I really was. Whether you felt the same about me, I’ll never actually know-“
“I loved you, baby. I still love you-“
“But I thought you were the one who understood me, Patrick. But somehow every time I gave you a chance to correct yourself you threw it away to be with Tashi. Over and over. She’s constantly being picked over me, her feelings over mine, her body over mine, her opinion over mine…You’re just another one of her fans. You’re just like Art- Honestly, you’re fucking worse. At least he pretended to like me all those years ago. Now, as my husband, you just don’t give a shit. Just publicly showing that you slept with my sister.”
“…Why do you keep bringing up Art?” He looks down at you, “Do you- Do you feel something for him still?”
“Oh my fucking-“ You cover your face, composing yourself once again before continuing. “Pat, it’s been a long, long time since this all started. And if I could go back I’d change many things. But at the end of it all, I’m here because I worked for it and I endured it. You and Art can stay stuck under Tashi’s finger, that’s fine. But I know that life is bigger than that. Bigger than this weird threesome love triangle shit that you circle back to every few years. I am a grown woman who is in control of her own life so if you don’t have anymore comments, you need to get out and sign the papers when they’re served to you, Patrick.”
“…Baby, please,” He cries, his lip quivering. “You love me, we love each other. Please just think about it.”
You tilt your head, “Do you want me to be honest?”
Patrick nods, hiccuping on his tears.
“…All of this is really really beneath me.” You quietly tell him.
He lowers his head, his hands covering his eyes.
“When I was 18 I might have been broken over stuff like this but…” You shrug, “Things are very very different from when we were teenagers.”
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