1
—
there's warm breakfast on the stove from this morning. the hotel's keurig is dripping the last bit of brewed brazilian coffee into tashi's cup before she takes it. she moves it to the kitchen island where the rest of her coffee making supplies sit. she prepares it to her liking (half pack of stevia and a dash of almond milk); bitter and sweet. as she stirs the contents of her drink together, she feels a warm pair of arms wrap around her body.
tashi glances down at her husband's hand playing with the hem of her shirt. his cold fingertips slip under the material just to touch her skin. she continues to mix her coffee and takes a tiny sip to see if she needs to add more milk.
art's nose twitches at the familiar, harsh smell. "that scent has never been pleasant to me. don't see how can you drink that."
tashi can't help the small smile that forms around the edge of her cup. it goes away as quick as it comes and she sits the cup back on the counter, "that's why it's my morning coffee and not yours. needs more milk though." as her hand reaches for the carton, she's spun around in art's arms. like instinct, he grips her waist tighter and closes any gap between them.
his lips, like magnets, pulls her into a kiss. it's short, sweeter than whatever concoction she's made. tashi pecks his lips after he pulls away. she wants more, but she knows him better than himself; it's enough to make her settle her back against the counter. her tongue rolls over her lower lip, eyes briefly trailing over his exposed biceps. then she locks eyes on her target, "sleep well?"
art purses his lips to the side in thought. he looks away at the wall and then back at his wife. he's debating about lying or not.
art and tashi had a regular day together: training in the morning, attending a couple ATP tournaments (his earned winnings came with a few racket abuse penalties), dinner with tashi and then rest—or that's what he had planned. their classy night at Torrisi soon bacame a tasteless one after the arrival of an unexpected (and uninvited) guest.
it's the sound of a straw sucking air at the bottom of an empty 7-eleven cup that catches their attention. it's loud, obnoxious and purposefully drawn out to make his appearance known. art looks up from his menu first to look at the culprit. tashi continues to search for her meal, unbothered at the slightest.
standing at the front of their table in none other than patrick. he's wearing a plain white tee matched with a pair of faded blue jeans, disregarding the clear black tie attire dress code at the door. he's wearing his famous smug smile with the straw still stuck between his lips.
"what are you doing here?" art asks, the look of annoyance on his face just makes patrick's smile widen.
he releases the straw with a dramatic POP! "oh, i was just in the neighborhood when i heard the most famous tennis player in the world was having italian at the most fanciest restaurant in the big apple tonight. figured i'd stop by to see it for myself,"
he plays with his straw, twisting around the melting ice in his cup. "now imagine how hurt i am to discover the rumors were true and i didn't even get an invite. you two have really broken my heart this time." he juts his lip out into a pout.
tashi sighs, eyes scanning the menu, "you know, that almost sounded believable for a moment," she starts off, finally spotting what she wants to eat. she makes a mental note and gently folds the menu back up, "if only you actually had a heart." she bats her eyes up at the man just in time to watch his smirk disappear. it almost makes her lips twitch into their own sly grin. "what do you want?"
