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"Would you stop that?"
Patrick takes the popsicle out of his mouth. He's pink-lipped, sunburnt and smirking. He eats like a child. Art should know, he's the proud father of one. Patrick just smiles. It makes Art want to take off his cap and cover his stupid red forehead.
"You want some?"
Art thinks about it for a second, then nods.
"Why'd you pick cherry, it's disgusting" he asks wetly around a mouthful of freezing sweetness.
"Yeah. Can I have it back?" Patrick asks, giggling. His hand is slobbered in red saliva. He likes to see his bestfriend eat from his hand. Always has.
"So, what do you want me to stop?"
"I don't know, eating so suggestively?"
"What do you mean?"
Art rolls his eyes. They squeeze in the row of seats, bumping legs and knees of doting parents. Art watches their faces shift from annoyance to adoration as they look up and see Art Donaldson towering over them, moving with uncharacteristic clumsiness. This time around they don't ask for autographs, they leave him shuffling and sorry-ing his way to his seat.
Patrick falls into the plastic chair with such force he almost deep-throats the remnants of his popsicle.
"Stop, stop it, you're going to kill yourself" hisses Art, hitting his friend on the back and confiscating the popsicle. Patrick coughs.
"Hey, I paid for that".
"No, I paid for that. Well, technically Tashi paid for that, but you fished the money out of my wallet".
Patrick takes a moment to stare at him, then looks at the tennis court, where Lily and her friend Sarah are destroying their opponents. If Art and Patrick used to be fire and ice, those two are definitely hurricane and some-other-serious-catastrophe.
"Jesus Christ, they're ten, Art".
"Yeah".
Patrick looks around the bleachers.
"Where's mummy?"
"She's taking a call. The match is practically over. She's a bit stressed I think".
Patrick scratches his nape, showing his bycep and his armpit hair. Academy parents shoot him a disapproving glance. Everyone's well kept and tidy, while Patrick still looks like he's sleeping in his car. He's not, for the record.
"Did Lily like my present?"
Art rolls the popsicle stick in his hands. Then he puts it in his pocket and leans over.
"Yeah, she did. It was the only one that wasn't tennis-related. She adored it. I think she loves you best".
"What can I say, I'm good with kids".
"You're good with everything. It's annoying".
Patrick shoots him a crooked smile. Then he takes Art's hand and, locking eyes with him, he kisses it reverently.
"Whatever you say, tennis god". Art blushes and coughs. That's before Patrick opens his mouth and starts licking his hand. It tastes of cherry.
"Leave me a bite, will you?"
Tashi is standing behind them and looking down at the duo through her sunglasses.
Art hears an ungodly scream come from the court. Tashi bends down and kisses both of them on the lips. It's just a peck. And besides, everyone's attention is glued to the tennis court. Lily Duncan just scored the winning point. She's hugging Sarah and shaking hands with their opponents.
"Art says you're stressed".
"I am".
Patrick bends back enough to circle his arms around Tashi's legs. It's terribly hot under her skirt, but he doesn't mind.
"Shall I take you to dinner?"
Tashi shrugs.
"Sure".
Patrick re-emerges from a sea of white folds.
"Bring your husband, yeah?"
Art slams a hand on Patrick's leg. Lily's running towards the bleachers. She's waving at them enthusiastically.
Art walks to the front row and picks her up to hug her. Tashi and Patrick follow him. He can feel Patrick's sweaty body behind him and one of Tashi's toned arms around his neck. It's a nice feeling, the same he wakes up to every morning. He's not walking the thin line between losing and winning anymore. He's just right where he wants to be. He just wishes Patrick would stop kicking him while he sleeps and that Tashi would just leave him a sip of the shake he dutifully makes every morning. But other than that, things are great.