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Tashi is the first to wake up.
As soft rays of sunshine begin to filter in through the hotel window, she sits up in bed and takes a deep breath in, then out. The early morning has always been the time she’s felt most like herself, besides on the tennis court. It’s quiet, peaceful, and full of possibility. Like nothing else exists but her and the stillness of the air.
She takes another deep breath. In, and out. In, and out.
Something touches her leg, and her whole body freezes.
“You’re cute when you’re meditating,” a voice says in a stage-whisper from next to her on the bed.
Tashi breathes in again. “This isn’t meditating,” she mutters back, eyes still closed.
“You’re cute when you’re not meditating.”
Tashi’s lip curls, and she opens her eyes just enough to look down to the side of her, at the naked body of Patrick Zweig, currently lying in between her and her husband. “I don’t remember you ever calling me cute, Patrick.”
He grins at her, eyes shining like a little kid. Like someone who just won the damn lottery.
Tashi rolls her eyes.
Patrick glances over to his other side at Art, lying on his stomach, still fast asleep.
“He’s a late sleeper,” Tashi says in a low voice.
“I know,” Patrick replies. “He used to be worse.”
“Back at boarding school?”
He nods. “We were always missing first period.”
Tashi raises a brow. “We?”
“I wasn’t gonna leave him in our bunk all alone!” Patrick responds defensively.
She snorts. “Of course.”
Patrick grins again, rolling his eyes like he’s laughing at himself. His grin grows even wider, and he pushes himself by his elbows so that his eyes are almost level with hers. “Do you think he likes me back?” he whispers.
Tashi coughs. “Your breath smells fucking terrible.”
He pushes himself up further and pecks her on the lips. Despite everything, it feels good. And this time, it feels good that it feels good. Patrick winces. “I didn’t bring a toothbrush.”
“To our hotel or to the challenger?”
He furrows his brow. “Uh…”
“Oh, Jesus. We’ll get you one from the concierge desk. Christ, Patrick.”
“You’re amazing.”
“That’s one way to put it.”
“Just think. I could’ve come here ten days ago and I wouldn’t have had to go on that Tinder date.”
Tashi snorts.
“This hotel is really nice, you know.”
“So, that’s all we are to you?”
“I thought I made that clear last night.”
Tashi rolls her eyes, lip curling. “You said a lot of things last night, Patrick, but that was not one of them.”
“Mm.”
She kisses him on the cheek and begins to stand up. “I’m gonna shower. Then I’ll get you a damn toothbrush.”
Patrick nods up at her, and she takes a deep breath in, letting herself soak in his stupid little lovestruck smile for just a second longer, then turns and walks to the bathroom.
.
Patrick collapses back onto the bed, hands behind his head. He can’t keep the grin off his face for even a second; it’s going to start hurting his cheeks soon.
He turns to his other side, where Art is still asleep, looking as peaceful as he’s ever looked in his life.
Patrick thinks of all the nights and mornings he spent just like this, watching Art sleep, wishing he could kiss his stupid little forehead and run a hand through his dumbass blonde hair.
But now… now he can, can’t he? Goddamn.
He thinks back to last night. He’d be sure it was a dream if his dreams were ever so coherent—he just woke up from one where he entered a challenger and his first opponent was one of those little yellow minion guys. No—it was like, four of them, and he was only mad because it was supposed to be a singles tournament, not that they were cartoon characters.
But anyways, compared to that, finally knowing what it feels like for his best friend to put a hand on the back of his neck and kiss him like there’s no tomorrow seems pretty reasonable. Even if it still makes his head spin.
More light pours through the window, and Art starts to stir. Patrick watches as his eyes flutter open.
“We have a quiz in history today,” Patrick says in a low voice, leaning closer. “Mrs. Henderson will be pissed if we’re late.”
Art scrunches his face in confusion, blinking a few times before he really looks at what’s in front of him. A beat, and he smiles. “Patrick.”
Patrick’s grin grows wider, if that’s even possible, and his cheeks might’ve started to hurt by now, but he can’t really tell because he’s too happy. “What, did you think I’d leave in the night?”
Art shakes his head, looking down. “No, it’s just…” He looks back up at Patrick. “I’m really glad.”
“Me, too.”
They stay like that for a minute, staring at each other, basking in the whole thing. Art looks fucking beautiful in the light from the window, like an angel of tennis, or something. His hair is a mess, with scattered rogue patches just barely betraying the curls it used to have when it was longer.
Patrick might want nothing more than to lie like this forever, just looking at him. If he didn’t know how great he looks killing it on the court.
Oh, and the sex is pretty good, too.
“Mrs. Henderson, huh?” Art says to break the silence, raising his brow.
Patrick shrugs. “She’s the first first period teacher I thought of. Wonder how she’s doing now.”
“She sent me an email a few years ago. Congratulating me on my career and everything.”
“She never sent me anything. What a bitch.”
Art yawns. “Do you even check your email?”
“Okay, fuck you.”
He grins.
Patrick reaches out a hand and traces the outline of Art’s cheek.
“Where’s Tashi?”
“Showering.”
“Right.”
“She loves you, you know.”
Art takes a breath in and nods.
Footsteps make their way into the bedroom and Patrick turns back the other way to face the devil they were just speaking of. She has a white hotel towel wrapped around her torso and her hair is dripping wet. She is still, after thirteen years, the hottest fucking woman Patrick has ever seen.
“I just called the front desk, they’re bringing up a hygiene kit right now,” she says to him. “My mom’s bringing Lily back here soon. I want you looking presentable before then.”
He grins and gives her a two-finger salute.
“C’mon,” she gestures with a hand. “Up.”
As Tashi walks back to the bathroom, he makes a show of rolling his eyes, but does in fact stand up.
Before he can take a step away from the bed, a hand grabs his wrist, and he turns around to see Art, now sitting up. “Wait.”
Patrick raises his brow, awaiting further direction. He stops himself from leaning down, reveling in the fact that he knows it’s what Art wants, so he can wait until he asks.
Art tilts his head, looking at him with those doe eyes of his. “C’mere.”
“Oh, okay.” Patrick leans down just enough to almost meet his eyes, then brings up a hand to tilt his chin up. “Like this?”
Art snorts. “A little clos—”
At that, Patrick finally closes the distance between them, giving him a peck on the lips just like he had Tashi. He pulls away. “I should probably get that, uh, hygiene kit.”
Art smiles fondly at him and nods.
Patrick nods back, then grabs the closest pair of pants he can find, draped haphazardly on the top of the dresser during the events of last night. “I’ll wait for the knock,” he says as he pulls them on.
“There’s a doorbell, actually,” Art replies.
Patrick chuckles. “These places just keep getting fancier, don’t they?”
Art shrugs.
Patrick grins at him and finishes buckling his pants. “I’ll wait for the bell,” he says, then turns on a heel and walks out the door.
.
Art sighs, feeling overwhelmed and relieved and on top of the world and every other emotion you could cram into a single human being.
Sitting alone on this hotel bed, it doesn’t feel real. It’s too good to be true. He just sits there for a minute, looking at his hands.
“You ready to win the US Open?”
Art looks up to see his wife standing in the doorway. She’s dressed now, in the black shirt and shorts from their old clothing line with Adidas, and she looks happier than he’s seen her in a long time.
“Yeah,” Art says, nodding to himself. “I think I am.”
Tashi nods as she walks to sit next to him on the bed. “That’s what I like to hear.”
“I think I got my confidence back.”
“Goddamn, I hope so.”
Art laughs. A pause, and he swallows. “I’m glad you didn’t have to leave me yesterday.”
She purses her lips, running a hand through his hair. “Me, too.”
He kisses her forehead, and she leans into the touch. “I still mean it about retiring once the season is over.”
She nods. “I know.”
“And you’ll be okay if I don’t win the Open?”
She looks up at him with a hidden smile. “Of course,” she says, a mischievous glint in her eye that Art might’ve forgotten she had in her. “I’ll just get Patrick there next year.”
Art raises a brow. “Oh? Is he—Are you—?”
“He asked me to be his coach.”
“Oh.”
“Are you… okay with that? Because if you’re not…”
Art shakes his head. “No, no. I mean yeah. I’m okay with it.”
“Good.”
“You’re a really good coach, Tashi.”
“I know I am.”
“I never should’ve doubted you about coming to New Rochelle.”
She snorts. “No, you definitely should have.”
He shrugs. “Well, it turned out okay. And the two of you are gonna be amazing.”
“Hey. You’re not allowed to think that far ahead. You’ve got an Open to win.”
He gives an emphatic nod. “Yes, coach.”
She leans in and kisses him, and Art feels like he must be the luckiest man on the face of the earth.
He brings one hand to her jawline and wraps the other around her waist, pulling her closer as she presses kisses to his chin, and—
A loud ding-dong sounds across the hotel room, and they stop. A beat, and they both start to laugh, still holding each other in their arms.
A moment later, Patrick walks back into the room, holding a hotel-branded plastic bag. “I’m gonna…” He points to the bathroom.
Tashi and Art both nod.
He shoots them a smile and a finger gun and shuts the door behind him.
“We’re stuck with him, now,” says Tashi, still looking at the closed door.
“You’re the one who wants to coach him.”
“You’re the one who’s been in love with him since you were twelve.”
Art scoffs. “I—I didn’t know that until yesterday, okay.”
Tashi grins and kisses him on the cheek, disentangling herself from his arms. “You need to get ready for company, too.”
“In a minute.”
She raises a brow. “Remember, this is your one rest day. Tomorrow we’re back to the grind.”
“Yes, coach.”
She nods in approval and pulls out her phone. “I’m gonna see what my parents and Lily are up to. You wait for him to be out.”
He nods, and she walks out the bedroom door.