BASELINE ✸ Art Donaldson

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Ten. Already Over

2006.

"I JUST DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY HE'D SAY THAT TO YOU." Patrick says, flicking his cigarette against the floor of the dorm room. "I mean, Tashi saying what she did wasn't all that surprising but Art?"

He shakes his head, inhaling another puff of nicotine.

"That doesn't sound like him at all." Patrick's brows furrow with thought as he runs back through the scenario in his mind.

Tatum shrugged, kicking her feet back and going to relax her chin onto her fists in which she propped up her elbows. "I don't know. Something hasn't been right between us for a while."

Patrick leaned his shoulders back against the length of her bed, his head doing the same when he looked up at her. "You think Tashi's the problem?"

Tatum takes the cigarette from his hand, taking it as her own. "No, I think my boyfriend's crush on Tashi is the problem."

Patrick can't help the half-grin that welcomes itself on his face. "He's your boyfriend now?"

Tatum pushes his face away with the palm of her hand as he laughs. "Weren't you the one gloating about how you and Tashi were boyfriend-girlfriend now?"

Patrick rolls his eyes, accepting the cigarette back in his grasp, rejoining her propped up against the bed. "Well," he exhales another huff of smoke. "turns out my girlfriend thinks your boyfriend is hot. Hotter than me."

Tatum picks herself up, suddenly angrier and more confused than when Patrick walked in here. She joins him on the floor, brows furrowed with anticipation. "What does that mean?"

"We were, you know, in her dorm yesterday, doing stuff—" he explains, his hands moving cautiously in the air as he spares Tatum the details. "and all of a sudden she just starts talking about how talented and good-looking Art was."

Tatum couldn't believe it — though she never particularly liked Tashi, she never had a reason for doing so. Tashi was nothing but civil to her and always made an effort to congratulate her. But now, Tatum had about a million-fucking-reasons not to like Tashi Duncan.

She scoffs in disbelief, taking the dulling cigarette from Patrick's grasp one final time. "That bitch."

Patrick shrugs, almost laughing now. "Sounds to me like they're fucking made for one another."

The two share a laugh, Tatum almost coughing on her smoke but that only intensifies the laugh rumbling in her belly.

But Patrick's began to die down as Patrick's phone dinged. It was a text message from Art.

Where are you? It read.

"Look at this loser. Asking me where I am." Patrick mutters, his cigarette being held carefully between his lips as he typed back a response.

Got in a big fight. Not coming. He replied.

"Did he text you?" Patrick wondered aloud, but Tatum's phone hadn't made one sound since Patrick had gotten here.

Yet still, she checked.

"What do you think?" She rolled her eyes, reading over yet another message from Art — in which he was apologizing.

Patrick got lost in a chuckle as Tatum tucked her phone away. And within a matter of seconds, Tatum's face lit with an idea.

"You want to go get lunch?"

Patrick nodded, and the two stood up as Tatum reached for her keychain.

They both walked out the dorm, down the hall and almost out the building. However, there were a handful of other students walking on the opposite side of the hall. She'd only recognized a few but, one in particular, looked right at her, then to her phone, then to her.

"Hey, Tatum," She looked as though she was reading a text message aloud from her silver-lined phone. But Tatum had never recalled knowing this girl. But given her attire, she could only assume she was a fellow tennis player. "Did you hear Tashi Duncan fell on the court? She broke her knee or something. It was bad."

Shit.

NEITHER TATUM OR PATRICK WASTED ANY TIME WHEN TRYING TO RUSH TO THE INFIRMARY. Patrick specifically.

They walked past the empty front desk and straight back to the first room with an open door. Where, inside, sat Tashi and Art.

"We got here as soon as we heard." Patrick explained for the both of them, now out of breath from the run.

Tashi had her knee wrapped and her arms lifted over her head in which, she quickly dropped to her sides at the sight of Patrick and Tatum. "Out!"

Patrick took another step inside while Tatum waited back, and after Tashi told the duo to get out a couple more times, Art stood up with a look of sheer anger on his face.

"Get the fuck out!" He yells, mostly toward Patrick, but when he sees Tatum hidden behind his shoulder, a look of utter regret washes over his face and causes it to pale.

Patrick looks between the two of them, but Tatum is only looking at Art. With the furrow between her brow deepened and the clenching of her jaw intensified.

The picture was suddenly clear once again. Tatum caught a glimpse of it last night in Art's dorm but this time, it wasn't just a picture — it was an entire film. One that Tatum wasn't in.

She was the first to walk out. She turned quickly on her heel and began stomping out of the clinic and past those double doors.

She wasn't going to allow Art to see her tears, because he will no longer be the one to wipe them and they both know that.

And she sure as hell won't let Tashi see that although she may have lost Tennis to Tatum, she's completely won Art over.

And Patrick knows it too.

She can tell because when he comes out, chest heaving, the first thing he does is hug her.