༘˚⋆𐙚。⋆𖦹.˚
[ 2019 ]
by the time phoebe made her way back to the courts after the day's matches were finished, the sun had set and most of the courts were unoccupied as people retired to their homes or hotels for the night. it was a fight to get to the courts as patrick had been unwilling to release her from his tired but fixed grip. she promised to return with a late dinner for the two of them, knowing that he would be relaxing in the room for the rest of the night.
she walked casually, watching the few players that remained practice. it did not take her long to find herself a court to practice, only passing by the first few before finding a vacant one. she plopped her bag down next to the net before sitting on the ground, stretching her limbs as she warmed up.
as she picked herself up from the ground, she heard the court gate open. she turned and was met with a slightly hesitant art casually approaching her with his racket .
"hey," art said simply. phoebe was slightly taken aback, knowing that the two of them weren't on terms that warranted a casual hello.
"court's occupied," phoebe muttered as she walked towards the tennis ball shooter. she checked the amount of tennis balls before turning it on. she watched as art dodged an oncoming tennis ball before slowing the speed with an unfriendly smile on her face.
"don't want to share a court with me now?" art asked, dropping his duffle bag despite phoebe's annoyance with his presence. she walked around him as she set up her position across from the machine.
"i can't remember the last time i willingly shared the same oxygen as you, let alone a tennis court," phoebe grunted as she hit the first ball while art stood next to the tennis ball shooter.
there was a brief pause before art spoke again. "i'm sure that you'd prefer to play against an actual person, rather than a stupid machine, pheebs."
"don't call me 'pheebs'," phoebe said in a clipped tone. she looked at his position next to the machine and held back a groan at the downcast look on his face. "are you gonna say what you really came here to say or are you gonna keep staring at me like a kicked fucking puppy?"
normally, phoebe wouldn't be this harsh to art. was she his biggest fan? no, but it was never easy for her to disregard his feelings, even at the expense of her own. yet, she had been bombarded with questions about him since her statement at the press conference. the questions varied but were all equally as invasive and irritating. she opted to not comment or fail to answer the question, not wanting to add fuel to the fire that she purposely started. seeing his face after hearing his name for the rest of the day struck a weird nerve in phoebe, making her extremely annoyed with his seemingly always lingering presence.
"you don't think i can beat patrick?" art finally asked, turning off the shooter as he demanded phoebe's full attention. phoebe wished to send her racket flying in his direction at his persistant interruption of her practice. "or were you saying that to piss me off?"
"no, arthur, i truly believe you cannot beat pat," she replied, spite evident in her tone. she held his gaze, keeping hers steady as she watched his waver. his expression grew hard at her uninterested stance.
"because you're with him? that's a shit way to decide who's gonna win," he spat, earning a scoff from phoebe.
"no, it's because the only thing you're good at is being a puppet for tashi. it just so happens that being her puppet makes you a tennis player," phoebe snapped, tilting her head as she squinted at the man. she took a few deep breaths while guilt built in her chest. "look, i really don't have time for this right now. you're distracting me and i have my final in two days. leave, please."
YOU ARE READING
strawberry blond ᡣ𐭩 challengers. [ on hold ]
Fanfiction❝ all i need, darling, is a life in your shape i picture it, soft and i ache. ❞ or... in which phoebe russell watches the only love she's ever known fall apart.