strawberry blond ᡣ𐭩 challengers.

five - washing machine heart.

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.˚

[ 2012 ]

never in her life had phoebe broken a tennis racket. she treasured them, finding it disgraceful to witness other players destroy theirs in a blind rage. she supposed that's why she and patrick didn't get along when she first met him. it was the summer before eighth grade when art dragged her to the courts with him, begging her to watch patrick's practice match with him. she had yet to meet the boy who art had spoken highly of, typically busy with schoolwork or her tennis obligations. she remembered stealing the sunglasses perched on art's head as she watched the match. she knew who he was, everyone did. he and art were the best junior double team at their academy. he was cocky, but he had the right to be because he was good.

however, patrick had a temper. phoebe watched, taken aback as patrick brought his racket above his head only to send it crashing into the ground. he repeated this a couple of times before walking off the court and to his coach who seemed less than impressed with his racket smashing. he threw the damaged racket next to the chair on his side, not paying his coach any mind as he looked out the bleachers, eyes landing on art and then phoebe. he grabbed his spare racket, adjusted his grip, and stepped back onto the court. despite his outburst, patrick won the match. art was quick to congratulate him on the win and introduce phoebe, who sent a quick congratulations. she remembered him asking her a question.

"how's my serve?"

"your serve is great."

phoebe's brows furrowed in concentration as she launched another ball over the net, watching as patrick collected a few of the balls she sent his way. she swung her racket a few times, adjusting her grip as she assessed her technique.

despite it being her rest week, phoebe invited patrick to visit her humble villa while she prepared for the upcoming tour. he agreed with no hesitation, always willing to spend his downtime in the presence of the russell woman. it had not been long since they last spoke, often keeping in contact with each other when on separate tours.

the two had been practicing in silence for the past hour. phoebe was adamant about perfecting her serve, not offering any comments that did not relate to the quality of her or his playing. she could tell patrick was itching to talk to her about something and she already knew what it was. she had no interest in talking about it, wanting to keep the subject as far in the back of her mind as she could.

"so..," patrick began to bounce one of the balls as he spoke to her. "is this the part when i ask about the invitation on your kitchen counter?"

"no, this is the part where you shut up and wack the ball," phoebe shook her racket in the air gently before getting into position.

"we're gonna have to talk about it sooner or later, pheebs," patrick pushed.

"i choose later. it's your serve," phoebe adjusted her stance, twirling her racket in her hand a few times before waiting for him to serve again. when he didn't move, phoebe straightened her posture with an exaggerated groan.

two days before patrick arrived at phoebe's home, she received an interesting piece of mail. she almost threw it away, assuming it was a piece of spam like the batch it came with. she stopped when she read the sender's name, tashi duncan and arthur donaldson. she predicted what it was, yet she still opened it, heart aching as she read that she was invited to their wedding. she didn't read further than the cover before leaving it on the counter, occupying herself with her mini bar instead. while she did not forget about the news, she did forget about the invitation lying around when she opened the door for patrick. she knew the exact moment that he found the invitation, watching as his eyes skimmed the cover as he helped her prepare dinner. he tried to ask her about it then but she ignored it, changing the subject immediately.