VII. PEP TALK.

2o19.

The smell of burger meat cooked to perfection, and the occasional aroma of salts and topping wafted in the air as the two both sat across each other in a booth. One, in particular, was shoving burgers down their throat as if it had been the first and only thing they'd consume all day. The other could only watch him with a questionable gaze.

In front of Carmen was a plate of fries and burgers — cooked just the way she liked it with caramelized onions for added effect. It looked delicious and smelled appetizing but she hadn't even touched it. Just simply left it there. The idea of eating hadn't passed her mind as she simply didn't have the appetite.

Carmen looks at Patrick with a blank stare, her deep-set brown eyes which often reminded those of honey darkened into one remnant of coffee. She could tell that he was still basking in his previous winnings but that was the past — now it's the present and if he had any chance of beating Art she'd have to give it to him straight. "Art is going to be someone you're going to play against. And if you dream of making any points on that court your head better be in the game. He's your competition." Besides her was her notepad as she took all the notes her brain could muster. She continues her grip on the pen tightening, "All that ex-bff nostalgic shit that I can see you dwell in — throw that shit out of the window."

"So get it together or else you'll continue to live in your car, smell like dog shit, and cigarettes." That sentence alone makes Patrick look up, the burger in his hands finding solace on the latest below it.

Patrick chuckled, wiping his hands clean of any sauce as he nodded in agreement. "Well, of course," His confidence seemed to only grow by a tenfold unwavering. "Just because we have history it doesn't mean that I'll let it get in the way of everything."

Carmen couldn't help but chuckle at that. Despite his lack of social presence, and the many failures that came his way he still held onto that confidence as if it was the only thing he could hold onto. It was at this point. After all, he'd spent his early years just drifting with the wind, picking up matches just so he could make ends meet.

"And that's your problem." Closing her notepad, she places a hand underneath her chin. "You might think that you have it all in the cards until you're face to face with that very same problem."

"I should be saying the same thing with you." It grew silent between them with Patrick looking at her with that very same grin and Carmen looking at him with that blank stare. "We both know that you and Tashi could never get along."

Carmen could only look at Patrick with an unreadable expression, "Yet she's the one married to your ex-best friend and not you."

2019.

Less than three hours later Carmen was hit with some unexpected news. Aaliyah had signed her up to do a match — two matches one that'll lead her to finals and the finals itself. The first match was against Marianna Bianchi. Just a year younger than her, the Italian superstar was making a lot of headlines for her fiery personality off and on the court. At first, Carmen was beyond pissed but then agreed — maybe this would be a way for her to blow off some steam. After all, she wasn't nervous — hardly got nervous but the idea of knowing you had to prepare last minute made her feel a little bit anxious.

With a water bottle in her hand, Carmen walked down the narrow hallway. She'd decided to just head down to the bar to clear her head and get herself in the mental space needed for tomorrow. Dressed in a simple all-black attire consisting of a sweater, leggings, and sneakers her hair was free from being in any claustrophobic hold that is a rubber band.

Taking a right, she stops in front of the elevator. Pressing the button that indicates to go down, Carmen waits a little before the sleek gold doors slide open revealing someone she'd hoped that she wouldn't see: Art Donaldson.

It felt like seeing a ghost — seeing your past. And like always the past comes back to haunt you. Carmen could only stand there for a moment, her mind being unable to process what was happening at the moment. She could hear her very own heart pressing against her rib cage, the idea of even saying anything not coming to a close second.

Art still held onto that very same expression he'd had the last time they saw each other but to Carmen, he appeared so different. Maybe she should've prepared herself for when she'd crossed paths with him.

Of course, she couldn't go anywhere without seeing him and Tashi. They'd grace a multitude of posters, billboards, commercials, hell even tennis matches they had no part in. They were labeled as the tennis power couple of the century. Carmen should've known that she couldn't escape them. Yet didn't know how to react when he stood right in front of her.

This is a prime example of how things changed. Life got a hold of both of them more so him. The once childlike wonder he once had in his eyes died in the ongoing struggles of life. The small wrinkles that appeared around the outside of his eyes only show a greater example as to how much time passed between them. The once long, bouncy blond curls were now cut short showcasing that he was no longer a boy but a man.

"Excuse me." Was all she said walking past him and into the elevator as he exited. For a brief second, their arms brushed against each other which made goosebumps appear on their skin.

Quickly pressing the first button, Carmen leans against the wall while crossing her arms. Soon enough the doors closed and she let out the breath she'd been holding in the entire time.

"Fuck!"

authors note
The fact that Mike is not British still blows my mind. Like wdym you're from Ohio???