The spark // Art Donaldson

008. Mint & Cedar

Cadell, 2006

 "You're serve is too weak." Cadell's voice rang through the court. Art turned to her, raising an eyebrow. He was practising his serves alone, wearing the red stanford uniform and a backwards baseball cap.

"Oh yeah?" He gave her a teasing grin. For the past few months, Cadell had been grinding him with training despite not being the best anymore. Art had insisted he wanted Cadell as a coach, and not Tashi. So, Cadell helped him improve drastically until he climbed the statistics of the Stanford males.

"You have to put more energy into it," she explained, "you're doing all you can with your arms, but you have to use your body as well. Follow through with your whole body."

He sighed, trying out her tip lightly and saying, "I'm afraid you might be right. Again."

She laughed, "I'm always right. Remember, put your heart into every action and movement– that means using your body and your soul to hit that ball. Courage on the court, heart in every swing."

He rolled his eyes as he nodded, "yes yes, I remember."

She had repeated that phrase since the mens us open doubles tournament, and had not shut up about it. It was the reason she was so ferocious on court, a reminder of who she was: a star.

She smiled, "up to play?"

"I'm always ready to kick your ass." He gave her a grin.

She snorted, "oh please, Art, when have you ever lasted for longer than half an hour against me?"

He had, in fact, lasted longer than half an hour the last time they played together a week ago. In fact, she had almost tired out by the end of it– the first time in the whole six months they knew eachother. But she wasn't going to say that out loud.

He shook his head silently with a smile, walking to the opposite side of the net.

"Ready?"

As Cadell watched Art adjust his stance, she couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement. There was something exhilarating about being on the court, the anticipation of each serve and return filling her with a sense of purpose that was unrivaled by anything else. With a swift motion, Art served the ball, and Cadell's eyes followed its trajectory with keen focus. As it sailed over the net, she moved into position, her body instinctively responding to the challenge before her. The impact of her racket meeting the ball sent a jolt of energy coursing through her, a rush of adrenaline that seemed to electrify every fiber of her being.

It was as if time stood still, the only thing that mattered in that moment was the thrill of the game, the fierce competition that pushed her to new heights with each passing second. But what made this moment truly special was the knowledge that she was sharing it with Art.

There was a chemistry between them, a connection that transcended words and gestures. As they rallied back and forth, Cadell found herself drawn to Art in a way she couldn't quite explain. There was a fire in his eyes, a determination that mirrored her own, and as they played, she felt a sense of kinship with him that went beyond mere friendship. It was as if they were two halves of the same whole, each complementing the other in ways that were both exhilarating and profound.

As the game progressed, Cadell felt herself losing track of time, lost in the rhythm of their movements, the thrill of each point won and lost. It was a feeling unlike any other, a rush of adrenaline that left her breathless and exhilarated.

Art was just so... special. While the only thing in life that used to bring her joy was tennis, Art showed up. He made her laugh, he made her grin, he made her feel so many emotions, positive and negative that she never knew she could feel. In the past half a year, Cadell had felt the most alive she ever had. And that was because of Art.