BASELINE ✸ Art Donaldson

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Sixteen. Kiss It Better

"SHE LEFT ME."

Art looks entirely bewildered -- destroyed. But one look at him in distress wasn't going to cause Tatum to crumble. Not anymore.

"So what, you want me to be your rebound fuck?" She asks with a hint of a snort, taking a step outside of the room and quietly closing the door behind her.

He shakes his head but he doesn't scoff the way Tatum expects me to. "Six months ago."

Oh.

"I lost a match and she apparently didn't like that very much." He says, giving an unfunny smile. His knuckles whitening as he clenched his fists tight.

Tatum was wondering, he knew that. But given the state he was in, she would never ask. He knew that too.

She bites the inside of her cheek, her toes tapping gently against the carpeted floor as the two look over one another.

"I regret all of it." He says, finally letting out a breathe — appearing as though the five words were a confession he'd been holding onto all these years.

Meeting his gaze, Tatum analyzes him. She doesn't know what to think of him right now — but the possibilities of what they could have been haunted her every morning when she woke up since the day she left and as for Art — oh, Art.

Art was twice as much of a wreck as Tatum. That summer, at first, he didn't allow himself to love Tashi. Not when Tatum was gone. But when school started back up again, he tried.

He made one stupid mistake to try. He tried loving Tashi because he thought it was genuine. After all, isn't that what he wanted in the first place?

Art was his own worst enemy. The only one he ever seemed to lose to because no matter what, regardless of any stupid tennis match, Tatum would have gotten away and he would still be sleeping in bed next to the woman he vowed to love. But didn't.

And Tashi didn't love him either — he knew that. But maybe he just liked the idea that she did because then, it wouldn't have all been for nothing.

And maybe just for one night — one stupid night — Tatum will try.

She'll kiss Art and let him into her hotel room and they'll make love and it won't matter that any time has passed.

She can live in a fantasy for one night and she won't worry about the empty bed she'll wake up to in the morning because it won't matter.

She and Art won't ever see each other again, right?

He's moved on. He has a kid.

She's moved on. She has nothing.

So, with two gentle hands she cusps onto Art's shirt and reaches up to kiss him.

And it's everything she's missed.

His lips are soft against hers and they mold against them like they were made for one another. And when his big hand finds the back of her head — brushing against that spot below her hair that always sends a chill down her spine — she feels eighteen again.

They're moving together as one — so passionate and rough yet so gentle and loving.

Their bodies speak for themselves and they let their minds go blank. Because to them, all that matters right now, is this kiss. This feeling that's palpating Tatum's heart and harmonizing with the sound of Art's and she can feel it with the way he hums against her lips.