#the strangers: chapter 1 (2024) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cloveroctobers · 5 months ago

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THE STRANGERS: SINNERS ON COURT

A/N: the point? I’m highly disappointed with the new release of the strangers and the summer is the perfect time for the horrors and THAT was just not it for me. I’ve also been strongly debating if I even want to dip into writing for challengers since it’s very layered but also MESSY and who wants to flop if you drop something but you don’t know unless you try right? So here’s me serving something since chapter 1 gave us…not much? I’m blaming the writers and not the actors ofc so they need to hire me for chapter 2 ASAP. So this is for my horror and challengers lovers I guess! I might have to do a trilogy myself depending how this turns out.

In short: Challengers meet The Strangers.

WARNINGS: mostly oc x art pairing with a hint of Tashi x oc! Language, slow burn/slow start? Slight graphic violence + animal brutality?—Not overly described but hinted + a LENGTHY read!

SYNOPSIS: Andromeda, “Andra,” Cove has always been the secret double to Tashi’s game even when Andra claims that is far from true. Although their friendship has been on and off since Andra transferred out of Stanford…everything always comes back to the court. Andra seeks out Art’s company to attend her grandfather’s birthday party back in her hometown in Virginia Beach not expecting Tashi and Patrick to show up as well considering the confirmed secrets the three have recently spilled. After the events at Andra’s grandfather’s birthday party, the four decide to take a trip up to Andra’s cottage to get reacquainted but soon find three more guests at the door who release nothing but terror that surely ruins the weekend.

.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *

“I just remember the knife plunging into him and the amount of blood that spluttered from his mouth as they flung his body to the floor…” Andra hears the intake of her breath before she continued, “his eyes still locked on me as if—as if he was imagining during his last moments what our life as a married couple could be like and I couldn’t help him. I couldn’t stop them from hurting the man I wanted forever with. They took that from me and I still feel that knife, shoving its way through my body every time I think of him. My forever husband.”

The host of the podcast speaks now, “Not long after Maya honored us with this virtual interview, she was found brutally murdered in her shared home with her late fiancé, Ryan. The case of the road-trip lovers still remains unsolved till this day.”

A nudge to Andra’s bare upper arm makes her flinch, bringing her back to reality as she glances to her right to see her good friend, Art Donaldson staring at her, freshly awakened from his nap. Andra allowed him to be her passenger princess since he had to take two flights to get here, which she was thankful for.

After he received more frustrating than devastating news: that Lily was biologically Patrick’s, Art fled to London to take a much needed break from his two opponents. Art held Lily so tight and even thought of taking her with him but had no energy to fight Tashi who made little noise at his departure. She knew he would be back. Andra received a text from Tashi before Art ended up calling her and it was so laughable that Tashi acted like she had everything so figured out.

[~From: Tashi Duncan.

I fucked up and it’s finally caught up…you’ll probably be hearing from Art soon. I know you’ll do me a solid and watch over him for me, won’t you Meda?

Purposely leaving Tashi on read, Andra didn’t engage in a conversation because not even three minutes later, Art was in fact calling her phone—which led to a two hour call.

“What the hell are you listening to?” Art stretched his arms back around the headrest, a frown in between his brows.

Andra glances at him while rolling her stiff neck around in the driver’s seat, “A true crime podcast…about this couple that ends up having to stay in an airbnb and they basically get slaughtered by three sociopaths in creepy masks.”

Art squints, “and you feel that’s appropriate for us who are currently on the road alone surrounded by nothing but trees in this hillbilly state?”

“Hey! You wanted to see the cottage. I was—

Art interrupts his old friend, “Don’t say perfectly fine staying with your mom and step-dad because you and I both know you can’t stand those bastards.”

Which was not untrue…

Andra’s mother was big on living up to “the Cove,” name and felt that her daughter was the biggest disappointment (compared to her older brother Ahmed) although she kept a tight smile on her cheeks when speaking about Andra to family members. Andra’s mother’s side of the family came from a lineage of historians and archaeologists and Andra’s grandfather was also a well known tennis player in Ethiopia. Half of Andra’s mother’s siblings were also in the athletic field, her mother was once a gymnast and even made it to the Olympics multiple times until she suffered a severe neck injury on her third attendance ultimately ending her career—you can just guess how well she bonded with Tashi more than she ever did with her own daughter—later becoming a athletic sponsorship director.

Andra laughs with a nod of her head, “yeah, you’re right.”

Art hums already being aware, reaching for Andra’s phone pausing the podcast to search for a playlist for this late night morning drive. “This is a mood killer…no pun intended so I’m switching this but rest in peace to Maya and Ryan.”

You’re resting your head back against the headrest, eyes focused on the road, “You’re lucky I’m getting tired and don’t want to argue with you since there are rules such as: Driver always gets to pick the soundtrack.”

“So you were listening to this to scare the shit out of you and keep you awake?” Art states with a curious glance at the braided haired woman, “pull over and let me drive the rest of the way then.”

Andra twists her lips around, ready to debate on that since she loved her “little,” coupe and actually loved being the designated driver. When she transferred out of Stanford, she may or may not have gotten into illegally racing a few cars for extra cash, after her mother put a hold on her card until she declared a new major that was satisfactory enough to her. If anybody needed a ride and fast then Andra was your girl…just try to keep that on the low, although it was public record.

A yawn ripped through her lips before she can even stop it. She didn’t even want to dare a glimpse at Art who now sat up with a fold of his arms. He was being such a dad and Andra found this funny, laughing to herself while Art patiently waited for her to say something.

“You’re too cute, Art.” Andra tells him, lolling her head to peek over at the now dark haired blond, “looking like a scolding parent as if I didn’t get enough of that at the beach.”

Art sighs at that.

For as long as Art’s known Andra, she’s always been this humorous vibrant personality but it only ever shined when she stood on her own. It dimmed a bit whenever Tashi took over and Andra made herself small enough so her own mother wouldn’t find something to pick at but that never did her any good. Andra only came out here to celebrate her grandfather, since she was never sure how many more years the old man had left in him and he was much softer on her than the way he treated her mother, which was a cycle for what Andra endured. Her step-father refused to see it, comfortable in his rose colored lenses while she also often had a bickering relationship with her brother, Ahmed who claimed she played the victim game whenever their mother said something that basically teared her down.

It was a tale as old as time.

Andra thought inviting Art out here was to mainly help him wrap his head around what he was going to do and it would be good to see each other face to face after all this time but turns out it was him being by her side that made things a little easier.

“What do you need?” Art decided to ask, keeping his eyes trained only on her.

Andra chewed down on her bottom lip as she whispered, “…for you to drive.”

Art dipped his head at this, waiting for Andra to pull over to the side. They unbuckled their seatbelts and Art was out into the night while Andra climbed over to the passenger side with her fallen over zip up hoodie. Shutting the door behind him, Art adjusted the seat with a small teasing smile at the bronze skinned woman who scoffed at him in return.

Before he switched gears he says, “for what it’s worth…I think you’re brilliant at whatever you do and the only thing that matters is what you’re comfortable with when you look in the mirror. Be proud of that.”

A watery smile goes his way and Andra lightly reaches over to shove his shoulder, “you’re disgustingly sweet and I’m glad you’re in my life.”

“I love you, you know that?” Art sends a lopsided grin back.

Andra breathes, “I love you too.”

And that keeps Art warm in the sixty-five degree summer night. He runs his fingers over the door and cracks the window open, allowing the air to brush against the side of his new do, loving to hear the sound of that. It felt good to hear sentiments being reciprocated verbally and Andra never had a problem letting it be known. The pair connected in that kind of way, the whole words of affirmation was huge in the way they wanted to be loved and can always count on each other to be so reassuring.

“Now how many more hours do we have to go?”

Andra who’s balled up on her side, peeks at her glowing phone that was plugged into her car informs, “just a hour and nine minutes.”

Art puffed out some air as he switched gears, then checked over his shoulder before pulling back onto the road, “It’ll be sunrise by then so…hopefully a gas station will grant us with it’s presence and we can fill up, grab some shitty coffee or energy drinks and be on our way to your fancy cottage.”

Andra rolled her eyes, “it’s nothing compared to your California barbie dream house.”

“Please,” Art snorted, “it’s far from that and just a place to lay our heads and raise Lily in…” He clears his throat, “it’s just a house.”

Andra knew Art was still coming to terms with it all. He already went off about it and what he thought marriage should be despite spending years in one. Art claimed he wanted a divorce but the next thing Andra knew, Tashi and Patrick were showing up without her invite. Art didn’t invite them necessarily but he did let it slip to Patrick where he was over texts and that he didn’t know when he was coming back. Art needed some time and he always felt like there was never enough in this world.

The next few moments consisted of Andra dozing off, her phone buzzing with notifications as Art got off the next exit after driving nine miles and headed to the gas station. Art grabbed his own phone, tempted to wake Andra but she looked so at peace with some much needed sleep. He quietly exits the car and makes his way to the dingy gas station, greeting the grunting old man with the Santa Claus beard at the counter before searching their inventory. Art decides against the coffee that has a few dead flies floating at the top and circled back to the fridges.

Once he finds the little that he wanted, he slides the objects onto the counter at the man with the unkept beard. A small smile graces Art’s lips in a attempt to be friendly but the man doesn’t budge.

“That’ll be it, thanks.” Art urges as he holds open his wallet, also hoping to get the strange man to get a move on so he can get out of here quickly.

The man grunts, reaching forward from his spot on the stool to bring the few items closer to his view before he slowly starts punching them into the register. Art’s patient as the man takes his time and before he can start looking around his gruff tone comes out, “that’s a pretty one you got out there, don’t ya?”

Art blinks, easily picking up at what the man is hinting at and chooses to ignore him, “I’ll need some gas too. $25 on pump three.”

The man hums to himself, reaching over some more to punch his dirt stained fingers into the buttons although his eyes keep darting out the window. This time Art follows the old man’s stare but only to check on Andra to see that she is still in fact asleep on the passenger side.

“Y’all not from around these parts are ya? Headin’ north might not be the best choice ‘round this time of year.” The man tells Art who feels his brows coming together in a frown.

He wasn’t concerned about how the man can figure out if he was from here or not. It was the same as visiting any place and Art’s been to many considering his status. It was what the man, Walter (according to his also grimy looking name tag) said afterwards.

“It’s a week before the holiday, I think we’ll be okay but thanks for caring.” Art keeps his calm, small smile still on his lips as he pulls out two twenty bills, noticing the: CASH ONLY sign, “keep the change and you have a nice upcoming morning.”

Art doesn’t bother engaging in more conversation, shoving his wallet back into his jogger pocket, and scoops the items into his arms; not asking for a bag either. Art half expected the man to latch onto his wrist and deliver another unsettling line. This time Walter just goes back to being silent and Art’s not sure which one was worse, as he steps away and exits the store.

The pinging of his own phone, doesn’t stop Art in his tracks as he continues back to the coupe. Opening the door, he dumps everything into the driver’s seat for now before moving quickly to the nozzle. The minutes feel long as Art darts his gaze from the changing numbers on the pump, to Walter’s stare from the store, and back to Andra whose body gently rises and falls with each breath.

With a click, Art brings his attention to the nozzle to place in its original space, then moves the drinks into the holders and tossing the few snacks onto the floor by Andra’s sneakers on the floor. He searches the glove box for some sanitizer, but no amount of alcohol can erase the internal feeling of something going wrong.

Art laughs to himself as Walter holds up a hand in their departure, feeling that he was just being paranoid since his nerves were already out of whack way before he got to this state. Art shrugs it off once the gas station is no longer in sight and feels his phone ping some more.

“Not now, Patrick.” Art bites with a scratch to the back of his head.

He doesn’t have to look at his phone to know that it’s Patrick. He’s been the main one sending texts at all sorts of times since Art left the country. Art was already irked before but now that he brought Tashi to impose on his time with Andra was just another thing to tick off the list. Andra was great at distancing herself from the two and was always vocal on her distaste for Patrick but this was still a process for Art.

You can only be on the court by yourself for so long according to Art Donaldson.

Andra Cove strongly felt different.

“Hey,” Andra’s raspy voice is followed with a grasp to Art’s shoulder, catching him off guard which makes her widen her half lidded eyes at his flinching, “…everything good?”

Art scoffs, “what? Oh yeah! I just thought southern people would have the best manners.”

Andra clenches the tiredness from her eyes, trying to comprehend what the blond was saying to her, “…what happened?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Art says, “take a look in the holder, I got your favorite.”

Peeking at him with one eye, Andra glances down at the yellow bottle and reaches for it with a smile that splits over her lips. “Pina colada Fanta? I can’t believe you remember that.”

“How can I forget? You talked about it all the damn time back at Stanford and would throw a fit every time the campus never had it.” Art briefly looks at the woman from the driver’s side.

Andra laughs as she squeezes it to her chest before placing it back in the holder, “appreciate you, bub.”

“Sure,” art replies, “try not to chug it all down for breakfast later and then complain about a tummy ache afterwards.”

“Are you this bossy with Lily?” Andra questions while getting ready to roll her body to face away from Art again.

She freezes a bit, wondering if it’s a sore subject to even mention the child’s name but Art just shakes his head with a snort, “I’m actually the fun parent, believe it or not.”

“Oh I do.” Andra’s turned back to the window again, reaching a hand back to squeeze Art’s thigh in comfort.

He watches Andra’s hand: her gel nails a combination of a summer orange sunset and magenta. Her pretty fingers are inked with delicate designs and Art finds that her touch radiates a warmth that he’s not used to. A touch that is gentle but firm enough that lets him know that perhaps this gloom season doesn’t have to last forever.

There’s some instrumentals playing throughout the car now but Art doesn’t seem to mind it. Andra’s hand is now back to her own lap as she catches up on another round of a nap and Art is left to his own thoughts and this horrible energy drink that tastes like battery acid.

“Jesus,” Art mutters to himself as he feels himself gag balling a fist up to his mouth, in hopes of settling his stomach on his own.

He glares down at the drink momentarily before his eyes connect with something in the road, which makes him tap on the brakes. They squeal some, which makes Andra pop up in bewilderment, hood to her hoodie sliding right off.

“Damn,” Art comments as Andra grips onto the dash, leaning forward to get a good look at what’s in the road.

Andra sighs, “it’s a deer.”

“Yeah but…it doesn’t just look like roadkill.”

The way its head is bent back is unnatural along with the amount of blood that stains the gravel. There’s traces of glass the decorate the ground which indicates it could have been hit, which was not uncommon. It was the way that both sets of eyes locked on the deer with squints in their eyes that they noticed multiple wounds on its backside that appeared blunt and not accidental.

Andra exhales, her side eye going to the sides of the car before her hands went to check that the doors were locked, “nope. Art, if you don’t float this shit, then I will.”

The glance Art shoots Andra’s way, confirms that twisting feeling he felt back at the gas station. He crosses his hands over the steering wheel, turning the car to go around the deer and picks up the speed just as the navigation system speaks telling the two which direction to continue in.

That was enough to keep Andra awake for the rest of the drive.

6:46AM

The old friends are pulling up to the Olive green and white cottage. Equally they both rest their heads against the seats, just measuring the amount of energy it was going to take to collect their things and bring them into the home.

“It’s nice.” Art compliments while Andra who rolls her head to meet his tired stare with her blank one, “what? I’m not bullshitting you, honest.”

“Uh huh,” Andra answers as she grabs her Fanta staring at it a bit with a smile, “c’mon Ken, let’s get inside before the bugs start chomping.”

Art teases with his own nickname, “can we check our surroundings first, Belle? I’m getting some red flags?”

It was the way he actually had a rose by one of his own personalized nicknames for Andra in his phone—the only one with a emoji by her name truly—that reminded Art of how much he missed their friendship.

“Is this more about the Santa Claus cashier or the stabbed up deer?” Andra asks with her hand on the door.

Art scratches at his brow as Andra’s phone dings, “uh…both?” He muttered while she deeply inhales, eyes going to the phone she was about to leave behind in the holder. Pulling it free, she unlocks the phone and reads the message with a scowl.

Holding the mic on the bottom right of the device, she speaks into it, “thanks for letting me know last minute, dumbass. Send.”

Shoving the phone into her hoodie pocket, she meets Art’s eyes, “Ahmed gladly let me know that the front porch light is still broken from the last time he snuck up here to use my place for who knows what.”

“I’ll take a look at it, just set a reminder.”

Andra nods, quickly doing so before pushing the door open followed by Art. He breathes in the fresh air which smells of pine and salt from near by water. It’s quiet besides the light chirping from some birds and there’s not many cars near by at Andra’s neighbor to their left.

“The Triplett’s come here in the winter months, they’re Minnesota natives if you can believe it.” Andra informs as she swings the strap of her duffle bag against her shoulder and moves the seat back into place.

Art nods, “so what you’re saying is…we’re actually alone?”

Andra shrugs, “that’s kinda what the cottage life is all about, babe. Don’t worry though, that’ll be ruined once your two favs decides to grant us with their presence.”

Art watches as Andra slams the door, leaving Art behind as she crosses the pathway towards the front porch. He’s scrambling a bit now, grabbing his own bag and locking the car. He jogs up the steps just as Andra is unlocking the door. “Did I mention that I’m sorry about that?”

Andra fans her hand as Art steps into the home, being met with the grand view of the water out back. She’s locking the door behind him and then responds, “you sure did but nothings changed.”

She hoist the bag on her shoulder as she breezes by that, “alright little house tour since it’s still early and we could both use some more sleep. Dining table is here, kitchen in the corner, sitting area to a pretty great view is up ahead with the best deck in this sleepy town right beyond those doors, bathroom is right by the last set of sliding doors leading out to the deck, and your room is right around that wall. Around from there is the actual living room and my room is upstairs. Please keep your shoes by the door.”

Art breathes out a laugh, “if I didn’t know that you were once a careless tennis athlete who chose cross country instead—out of all things—then went on to sports journalism later turned kinesiologist, I’d say real estate might be your true calling.”

Andra rolls her eyes with a laugh, “thanks for the whole run down of my résumé, you’re a great guest so far.”

“Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet.” He winks as he moves to start unlacing his sneakers while Andra shakes her head, moving towards the couch with her back to the sliding doors.

She jokes, “I’m not on your salary so I don’t have a personalized chef or anything—

“Shut up, Andie.” Art playfully aims his shoe at the braided woman who grins at him with a wink, “I don’t need that special treatment shit, especially when it’s going to be over by next year anyway. I already know I’m gonna be taken care of by you.”

Since Art got his friendship with Patrick back, he seems to believe that he’ll be retiring soon and he wasn’t anywhere near forty just yet.

She shrugs her shoulders, “…all depends on how good of a guest you are.”

“I think I’m the best you’re gonna get…compared to your brother anyway.”

“Don’t even get me started on his bobble head!” Andra yells before continuing, “Now I have to check the house to make sure he didn’t ruin anything and try to hide it but at least he was honest about the light. The bare minimum! Please let me know if anything seems off in your room?”

Art laughs a little, knowing just how much Andra went at it with the older guy. Art never had any issues with Ahmed, he had an award winning smile and was definitely a charmer. The only thing Art didn’t get was why he didn’t have his sister’s back when it came to their mother? Probably because he got all the credit of being the “good” kid and didn’t want to ruin that but that was selfish. Art didn’t know what it meant to be a sibling but he figured it should be some sort of union, even if you had to Duke it out from time to time.

Blood was supposed to be thicker than water is what they say.

Art was an only child so he’s always been on his own but he felt like his late nana was the closest thing he’s had as true family.

Art zones back in on Andra stepping back into his view, “…what I was meaning to say before my mind goes all over the place is the kitchen should be pretty stacked although we’re only going to be here for a day or two. I had someone make sure of it so we don’t have to make any special trips but if you want to later—

“Andie,” art calls out to her making her blink and realize that she’s talking a lot, something she does when she’s stressing or needing some rest, “we’re good, get out of here.”

Her hands are on her hips now, “Are you trying to bully me, Donaldson?”

“No?” Art blinks.

“That’s what I thought. See you in a few hours and holler if you need anything.” She starts to walk off but Art follows her.

“…you do have weapons here right?”

She glances at him over her shoulder, “duh, who the hell do you think I am? Oblivious?”

“…what’s your middle name again?”

“Good night, art!” She waved her fingers in the air while Art is smirking.

“It’s morning!”

“Then tweet, tweet, bitch!” She calls back over the wall before she disappears and heads up the stairs.

Art can’t help but to let the bubbled laughter fly past his lips, heading to the right where the bedroom is waiting behind the sliding barn doors. Dumping his bags on a near by chair, he plops down on the side of the bed, resting his hands on his knees as he soaks in the stillness.

Flinging his body sideways to lay down, after staring out at the view for some time, he pulls out his phone to see a few texts from no other than Patrick.

The most recent says that Art’ll be seeing him and Tashi by the early or mid-afternoon at the latest, depending on when Tashi was ready to go. All Art did was like the message, placing his phone back on his belly before he closed his eyes.

Art is awakened by the stench of food and the goosebumps that decorate his skin. Rubbing at the new texture on his skin, he pushes himself up into a sitting position and peeks through his slumber eyes to get a sense for what time it is.

11:52AM

He gets to his feet, rubbing at his eyes and leaves his phone behind face down on the bed. Leaning in the doorway he looks both ways before stepping out onto the dark wood floor and heads back towards the front of the cottage. He spots Andra immediately facing his direction in the kitchen, leftovers of a sandwich in her hand while she’s sipping at some sort of smoothie.

“Morning sunshine, how did you sleep?”

Art leans against the counter from the opposite side and grins, “like a baby.”

“See the magic of this place yet?”

“I still need some convincing…maybe the last bite of that sandwich will help?”

“Oh you mean this one? That’s full of grease and has the potential to clog arteries? Aren’t you an athlete?”

Art gives a straight face, “doesn’t mean I can’t have cheat days and when did you become my trainer exactly?”

Andra pops her lips at the taste, leaning forward to mockingly toss the rest of the sandwich into her mouth.

Art leans away from the counter, “alright, okay. Your hospitality actually sucks and I rate this establishment zero stars.”

“You can’t chop me.”

“I just did.” Art states matter of factly as he starts making his way into the kitchen.

Andra scrunches up her nose, “always such a little baby! There’s one waiting for you in the toaster oven and I’ll be reporting this to the blogs.”

Art argues, “And you’ll be hearing from my lawyer.”

“Classic answer,” Andra circles around Art now in her flowy white skirt to plop on the couch dramatically with a hand tossed against her forehead, “I thought you said you loved me, Arthur?”

“Oh c’mon, not the whole government name drop, Andromeda!” Art drags out her name around stuffing his face while Andra laughs laid out on the couch.

He preferred “Art,” over his full name any day and that’s what everyone’s known him as before he even made it big. That of course didn’t apply to his own parents who felt it was foolish to call their son by a nickname rather than what they gave to him at birth. They were less hard asses than Patrick’s parents but when it came to titles that’s where he and Andromeda related.

“I’ve been added to the group chat thanks to your side piece.” Andromeda waves her phone in the air.

Art takes her leftover smoothie and plops down beside her, sipping at and ignoring her raised brows, “what side piece?”

“Mickey mouse.” Andromeda tells as she shows the dark blond her phone, “Patrick says him and Tashi are now on the road so we should see them around 2 at the latest.”

Art slowly finishes chewing, elbows on his knees as he’s in thought, nodding at this information. He can’t exactly say he’s thrilled to have them here—as bad as it sounds considering 1/2 of the pair consists of his wife but he’ll keep that to himself.

Andra sits up then, shuffling to sit thigh to thigh with Art as she nudged his shoulder, “Take a minute and get ready, I’ll be outside enjoying the sun until I give you the rest of the tour.”

He questions with a lopsided grin, “there’s more?”

“Always.” She flashes her teeth at him, leaving Art to peer down at her lips briefly before she turns her head to look at the waterfront for a bit, leaving Art to analyze the profile of Andra’s face. The little chocolate chip mole by her hairline of her straight backs is something he always found cute no matter which way she wore her hair. Just like her finding the spec of honey brown on the side of his dark blue hues in his right eye.

She gets up, using his shoulder for leverage before she breezes by him smelling like caramel, peonies, and pink pepper—a mixture of many scents that matched her body chemistry quite well. Art lets out a long sigh, leaning back against the couch after she slides the door closed but that doesn’t stop him from watching her walk across the deck to sit pretty on the wicker egg chair.

Some time later Art makes his way out to the deck, freshly changed and dressed for the remainder of the day. He meets Andra out on the deck, leaning over it just as she’s getting off the phone.

“I don’t care when you bring it, Ahmed. All I know is that it better be back here by the time I come out here again. Yeah, yeah. Bye!” Andra ends the call while there’s amusement on Art’s face while he takes a spot right next to her.

He glances at her before looking back at the view, “are you out here tearing your big brother a new one?”

“Nooo, what gave you that idea?” She’s sarcastic although her smile is as sweet as can be.

She spins to rest her elbows on the banister, eyeing Art’s appearance. He meets her stare, raising his brows in question as she says, “The facial hair is a good look on you. What’s next? Growing your hair back out?”

Art snorts, “nah, I think that’s over for me. Too much maintenance.”

Andra hums as she waves him along, “let’s see the dock…wait did you put your sunscreen or bug spray on?”

“Uh no?”

“Not on my watch, Donaldson.” She charges right by him to the egg chair, coming back with a dropper, “hold out your wrists.”

“What is it?” He asks but complies as the oil is dropped right on his skin.

“Now pat it against your neck and ankles then finish with your wrists.” She instructs, “the mosquitoes are devils by the water and hate lemongrass.”

Art shakes his head with a smile, “whatever you say, mom.”

“That’s okay, clown me all you want but you’ll be thanking me by the time we’re inside for the night, free from bites.” She pats his waist on her way by to put the dropper back.

Together the friends make their way down the set of stairs to the lower level. They walk across the grass where Andra points to their left, showing where the shed is full of equipment for water activities.

“Paddle boarding?” Art quizzes as he caressed his facial hair, “I can’t picture it.”

“What? I can’t have other hobbies?” Andra asked, hands on her hips while staring at the man underneath her eyelashes.

Art shrugged, “course you can. I just remember a certain lake party where you were lounging by the lake instead of being in it.”

Andra shields her eyes from the sun as she turns up her glossed lips at the memory, “I’m surprised you remember that when you had your tongue down Divinia Alonto’s throat.”

“Did I?” Art inquires, “I was honestly so worried about my new friend not having a good time.”

“And keeping Patrick from getting his ass beat by one of those guys that’s probably a linebacker now.” Andra chuckles as she leads the way up the small hill towards the dock.

The air is warm just as the light breeze while the two travel some more together. It was funny thinking about it all, how Andra became acquainted with the pair, first watching them at the US open since she was visiting Ahmed who recently moved out to Queens, New York. She would later end up at Tashi’s match a week later, sitting on the bleachers not far from Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson. She ended up introducing herself to the two prior and congratulated them on their win just for Patrick to invite her to a lake party they were attending that night.

Andra said she would think about it just as her pink LG chocolate phone was ringing. It was Tashi. Art even took it further to round off a number Andra can reach them at, leaving her to just stare at them in amusement.

“Aren’t you gonna type that in? Or do you need me to do it for you?” Patrick attempts to flirt but Andra just peers at him from underneath her oval purple and black glasses.

Andra laughs, “I’ve got it but if I need someone to lift a finger for me, I know just who to call. Later.”

“Later.” The boys echo as they watch her walk away.

“She wants me, dude.” Patrick leans back into Art’s shoulder as they both watch her hips sway, doing a signature spin while answering the phone.

“Yeah right, in your dreams!

“Hey,” Art speaks, his eyes were off to the right, “you never mentioned a court.”

Andra deeply exhaled as they both face it now, “that’s because I try to forget it every time I’m out here. After I purchased this property, my mom made it her mission to have one put out here as some sort of gift to me? Honestly it feels like torture porn to me but I shut my mouth and never use it.”

Art turned his eyes into slits, “if you don’t use it then somebody definitely does. What do you get up to out there in Alaska?”

It still shocked Art to hear that Andra settled out in Alaska these past few years. Of course she still traveled all over working with the most popular athletes, this he knew because he seemed to get the runaround whenever he mentioned her but Tashi deemed it as Andra still holding a grudge with her cutting Andra off after she transferred.

Art believed it was possible but eventually they reconnected instead.

“Lots of things,” Andra answers, “but you’d have to come out there and see.”

Art hums, “that another invitation?”

“As if you need anymore.” Andra looks at him and he holds her stare.

“…I think,” he starts as he leans towards her a bit, “I’d like to see if you still got it.”

Andra scoffs, “I don’t need to prove a damn thing.”

A smile twitches onto his lips, “sure you don’t but we’ve got nothing but time?”

“And we can enjoy that time by the dock underneath the sun. I know you like to get a little tan for the summer.” Andra argues with a cross of her arms.

Art rolls his eyes, “if you’re a chicken shit just say that.”

“If you wanna see me in a skort just say that.” Andra fired back, standing on her toes a bit to match his height.

Art presses his tongue into his cheek, looking off to think about it, “fine, you caught me! I’d love to.”

And the way he’s speaking to her makes Andra bite her bottom lip and Art knows he’s got her. He’s smirking as he tries to reach for her folded arms in attempt to hug her but she playfully slaps his hands away and points at him in warning.

They’ve worked up a good enough sweat on the indigo blue court. Art’s serving with the ball at the neck of the racket before he sends the ball over. Andra has no issue matching Art’s rhythm, he’s found his spark again but Andra knows he’s been tired of professional tennis. It just took him much longer than it did Andra. She knew right from the beginning that it wasn’t her sport although she was phenomenal at it.

It was a shame really because it seemed effortless. So causal she swung but it was always fast, her brows remained turned inward while the rest of her face remained calm despite the usual routine of pulling her bottom lip underneath her teeth. Art is so lost in the swing of things, picking up on Andra’s own tics that he tries to go for the ball at the last minute. Andra pulled another one of her moves, almost like a ballet twirl spinning just as she smacks the ball back to Art.

Stretching his arm just too far, Art hisses as he feels his shoulder sting almost like static radiating down his arm followed by a burning sensation. Andra sharply inhaled, eyes widening as she tosses the racket to the side. Moving around the net she’s down on her knees as Art lays on his back panting.

“Hey,” she speaks touching his shoulder which he lightly grips, “Let me.”

Carefully he moves his fingertips out the way, choosing to stare up at the sky for a while as Andra feels around. Art groans as she touches just at the crease of his armpit, surrounding by his old wounds.

“It’s a muscle spasm,” Andra informs as she digs her fingers along his skin, “breathe through it, Art.”

He pinches at the bridge of his nose, doing as instructed and croaks out, “my shoulder stood no chance, I should have known, you still got it and do that famous spin of yours.”

“Whatever,” Andra dismisses, “now look at you, all messed up, old man.”

Art huffs, “well I wouldn’t pick anybody else to look after me.”

Andra shakes her head with a small smile as she raises Art’s shoulder while still pushing back at the stubborn spasm. When Andra shakes his shoulder out to help relax it, she goes to raise it again but he’s sitting up now with a wince. With one hand he slips against the small of Andra’s back, making her inhale as she looks over at him.

“Am I hurting you?” She softly inquired, quickly checking in but Art shakes his head.

He’s pushing her to his lap and whispers into the summer air, “Never that.”

Before his lips are placed right on her’s.

Their noses are smashed together as their lips work together. Andra makes the move to grip Art’s jaw, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. He rubs at her back and squeezes her hips, matching her speed as if time is all they had.

Abruptly she pulls back, holding her lips while Art peers at her in alert. His eyes are even darker now but the spec of gold in that one eye is bright.

It’s such a pretty sight with his lips pink and panting.

“Art…what was that?” She questions behind her hands.

His hands don’t leave her frame as he breathes, “that was something I wanted to do since I hugged you for the first time in years at your grandpop’s party.”

She tilts her head at this news and moves to sit beside him against the hot court, “You’re married, Art.”

“I don’t think Tashi knows that.” Art mutters while Andra sighs.

“So this is about revenge?”

Art shakes his head, “no. It’s about finding what’s missing and you’re it.”

They both lock eyes and Andra doesn’t realize she’s leaning in until Art is kissing her again, pushing her back onto the court which burns her bare back in more ways than one. She hisses and Art pulls away and sits her up immediately as he cups her face, “…can we go inside?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Their grins are wide as they scramble to their feet like two old friends secretly up to no good. The excitement was real, doing something that most would frown upon but the pair were not the only two that moved to their own drums.

Andra’s helping Art remove his shirt, he playfully whines more than needed as she pulls it over his aching shoulder but reveals he’s just messing with her and it’s not anything he can’t handle. His hands find comfort right on her ass, pulling her lips right back to his as he lays back against the couch. It’s when he starts bucking his hips against her’s after she slips her tongue into his mouth that Art knows he’s in trouble.

“I’ve missed you, Andie.” He tells her as she presses kisses down his neck.

She pulls back, “how much?”

He managed to flip the two over, sliding his hand up her leg brushing her white skirt all the way up as he presses his front against the only cloth that’s left covering her. “That much.”

“Then I think we need to fix that, don’t you?” She quizzes, holding his face in her hands again.

His lips are pressed to her’s and she nips at his bottom one and just as he’s reaching to shove down his own pants, there’s knocks at the door.

Both of their gazes turn to the door and Art sits up.

“Special delivery!” A familiar voice screams behind the door.

Art clenched his eyes shut while Andra sits up on her elbows to pull her skirt back down.

“Sorry,” Art kisses her cheek while Andra just secured the satin pearl colored tie around her braids before handing him his shirt back.

Art can already see Andra closing up and he hates to see it. She waits for him to fix his shirt again, this time with the tag in the right place, and wipes the gloss from his lips before making her way to the front door.

Yanking the door open to stop the pounding at it, she spots a grinning Patrick with shades on leaning against the door. “Mickey! You don’t have to kick my door in to announce your arrival, we can hear you from up the street.”

“You sure? Didn’t want to startle your quality time, sweetheart.” Patrick clicks his teeth with a wink as he leans forward to smack a kiss to her cheek before squeezing his way by.

Andra yanks Patrick by his backpack and scowls at the back of his neck, “Take your shoes off in my house, asswipe.”

“Yeah, whatever you want. Got it.”

Andra steps onto the porch now, spotting Tashi with her phone pressed to her ear pacing back and forth. Patrick snickers as he makes his way over to Art, arms held out ready for an embrace but Art just gives him a side eye before choosing to move into the kitchen.

Tashi lifts her head just to meet Andra’s eyes on the porch. They watch each other, Tashi half expecting Andra to send her a Princess wave like old times but she doesn’t. Once Tashi starts crossing the lawn towards the steps is when Andra turns her body to lean her back against the front door. She sees Tashi’s mountain of bags resting on the porch and raises her brow at them.

“Hey,” Tashi greets shortly as her heels click against the porch.

Andra dips her head, “Hi, Tash. Have a nice ride up here?”

“I never would have picked this hick town for you even if it’s part time, what were you thinking?” Tash asked as she begins moving her bags into Andra’s home herself.

Once Art comes over, he silently grabs the last bag to bring in before putting space between him, Tashi and Patrick.

“I was thinking, my money, my choice.” Andra replies as she closes the door.

Patrick lets out a low whistle, arm stretched along the back of the couch, “easy with the claws ladies.”

Tashi glares, “Shut the fuck up, will you?”

“Don’t start.” Andra warns the dark haired man who just shrugs, peeking over at Art with his tongue out in silent laughter who’s shaking his head at him.

Tashi surveys the cottage, heading to the waterfront view while looking left and right. “So what’s the sleeping arrangements?”

“Art’s on this level, I’m upstairs, Pat and you can have the couches.”

Patrick bounces on the one he’s sitting on now, “cool.”

“Right,” Tashi snorts, “So the room with the barn doors? Got it.”

Andra sends a look to Art who just moves the tension from his jaw. Tashi picks up on this and says, “what have you two been up to?”

“Yeah! It’s a nice set up you got here, Andra! I’m sure there’s plenty and nothing to do.” Patrick’s fishing but they’re not taking the bait.

Art decides to change the subject, “have you two eaten?”

“We stopped at that one place for breakfast before we left but I’m always down to decide what’s for dinner.” Patrick admits while Tashi rolls her eyes.

The now blonde haired woman brushes by Andra, “I’m going to bring my things into the room while you guys figure out how to entertain yourselves.”

Andra follows after Tashi as she’s going back and forth, bringing her things and arranging them and Art’s things. Andra sits on the edge of the bed waiting for Tashi who raises a brow at her. Art lets out a long exhale as he listens to the door slide closed and Patrick gets to his feet to place his backpack on the floor. Stretching his arms above his head, he moves towards the wall where the front door is to mess with the record player.

“Just make yourself at home, why don’t you?” Art mutters to Patrick as he flicks through some records and picks a random one to place down.

Patrick shrugs, “what am I supposed to do? Just sit around and wait for you to talk to me?”

“You’re lucky that Andra even opened the door.”

“What is this? You finding a new team member to replace me? Don’t forget that I’m always your number one.” Patrick leaves the needle off as he burns his stare into Art who’s resting his hands on the counter.

“Are you fucken serious right now? No way are you saying that to me when you did what did behind my back, again.”

Patrick rests his hand on his chest, “you’re acting as if I knew, which I didn’t, and what we’ve been over already! I would never try to take Lily away in the first place, I’m fine being uncle Patrick and I’ll still love her regardless.”

“Well shit, thanks for your permission!”

In the room, Tashi has now taken a space on the bed, arms crossed while Andra stands in front of her. “…Do you really think being here smothering him is the best choice?”

“Smothering?” Tashi scoffs, “Art fucked off for two weeks and he folded right into your arms. Whether you like it or not, I’m his wife and he’ll always need me.”

“Tashi…you had him believing that lily was his—

“She is!” Tashi exclaimed, “you honestly think Patrick would be a good father and god forbid a husband? They’re not children, they’re men and should start acting like it. Those white boys wouldn’t be shit without me and you know it, which is why you walked away.”

Andra frowned, “I don’t have anything to do with your relationships with Pat and Art so I don’t appreciate you trying to wrap me into your bullshit. I’ve been out the mix, sis. You’re already in my house, which takes a lot of balls from the both of you after you did Art dirty.”

“Art, art, art, art, art! Jesus! Did you fuck him already? Was it even better now than back when you were nineteen?”

One thing about Tashi, she knew how to be so disrespectful. However it had no effect on Andra as a smile split over her lips at the blunt short haired woman. It wasn’t a secret that Art was Andra’s first before he decided to start going after Tashi. They were each other’s flings and that was good enough for Andra as long as he wasn’t screwing anybody else that didn’t deserve him. It was her mistake then and maybe it would have been her mistake now if they had more time on that couch.

She didn’t need Tashi picking at scabs.

“Would that make you feel better?” Andra asked with a tilt of her head, “voluntarily giving us a pass for what exactly? To even the score?”

Tashi smirks, “You were always my greatest weapon and I don’t get even, I win.”

Patrick stands on the other side of the counter, taking Art’s glare, “I don’t know what you want from me, man. We were back to normal, great even! I’m at my best and you’re going out with a bang, don’t let this ruin how far we’ve come.”

Art huffs, “I’ll decide.”

“Fine, whatever you want but don’t make it another thirteen years.” Patrick snaps, “…where’s the booze?”

Andra pats at her scalp in frustration, “if you have any respect for me as a past friend, you’ll do right.”

“What’s your definition of right?” Tashi rolls her hands around trying to understand, “Leaving when it gets tough and having unrequited love?”

“What’s yours?” Andra debates stepping to Tashi who gets up in her face, “Cheating on your husband, having a baby on him, lying to him for years, and still walking around like the mean girl you are? Let me tell you something Ms. bob, we’re grown now and it’s tired.”

Tashi sizes Andra up, “it’s cute that you think you have a back bone now. Took you long enough.”

“Keep trying me and you’ll see just how that back bone works.”

Tashi kisses her lips at Andra who steps back, “great talk.”

“You haven’t changed and I don’t think you ever will. I’m glad I walked away from this friendship years ago, you make me sick.” Andra snips over her shoulder as she reaches for the handles.

Tashi fans her hand, “oh fuck you and your excuses. You’re just looking to point the finger at every bad guy to make yourself feel better about your lack of drive for anything.”

“What?” Andra whips around, “You’re the only miserable one I see here. At first I thought it was ambition but that turned into greed and then control. You’re just mad that I would no longer let you diminish my voice. I’ve had enough of that with my own mother! I’m not tennis, I’m more than that, which you’re not and that bothers you so maybe you’re the one that’s really sick.”

Tashi claps it up while Andra stares up at the ceiling, “glad you finally found your voice and told me how you really feel in person, instead of laying it out to the public like you should have. Only took you forever.”

Andra shrugs her shoulders, “if I have something to say, I’ll say it to your face.”

Tashi hums as she steps to Andra this time, brown eyes scanning over her features,“Tell me more.”

“I don’t want to do this with you anymore, Tash.” Andra’s hands are up in the air, “I removed myself from the situation long ago and after this weekend here, I don’t want to talk about it anymore. We just don’t mesh and that’s okay, I have boundaries and you have crazy standards that you expect everybody to follow. Art and I were cool before you came into the picture—

“Aht, don’t do that. We were high school friends before Art. Why should some man come between us?”

This was true, Andra and Tashi were the best of friends anyone can have as teenagers starting from their junior year. This wasn’t their first fight and wouldn’t be their last. They were in different groups by the time Andra came along since she was from Virginia but her family moved out to California when she was fourteen. They knew of each other since they had gym class together but didn’t get the chance to form a friendship until they were sixteen.

“You don’t get it,” Andra sighs, “it wasn’t just Art. It was everything for me and it would have killed me so I chose a different path. If you wanna be mad at me still over that, fine. We can’t change each other.”

“You honestly think that’s what our relationship was?” Tashi pries, “it was about challenging each other and shaping each other into the best of the best.”

Andra tightens her stare, “So tell me Tash, do you like the result?”

Tashi inhales, thoughts wandering as there’s more harsh knocks at the door. Andra deeply frowns figuring it’s Patrick who locked himself out as she looks away from Tashi, sliding the doors back to peek out. She can’t see from the doorway but she also doesn’t hear Patrick or Art talking.

The knocking sounds again and Andra steps out, followed by Tashi. Andra sees Art walking over to the door while Patrick brings his attention away from tinder on his phone.

“I thought it was you,” Andra tells Patrick, shoving his shoulder, making him lift his head to peek up at her.

Patrick snorts, “nah. My serve is more baseline.”

Tashi walks along the path between the couch and sliding doors, peering at the view of the afternoon sky turning lightly yellow against the blue. There’s birds in the sky but they’re flying further away. All of their heads turn back to the knocking, leaving Art to unlock it before Andra tells him to ask who it is.

Her attention is pulled away as Patrick starts carrying a conversation about dinner but she’s curious to who’s at the door. She see’s Art standing up straight before closing the door, locking it while holding a piece of paper.

“Who was it?” Patrick examines as Art makes his way over to the three still holding onto a fallen paper.

The blond shrugs, “some girl looking for some other girl.”

“God, I hope it didn’t slip to the paps that we’re out here.” Tashi actually seems uneasy about that, perhaps this news was more damaging than she was letting on.

Art replies, “Yeah that would not be great.”

“I mean…would it be the worst?” Patrick sits up on his elbows, “The press is hot right now and I’m the hottest topic—which I should be.”

“Yeah mainly for having a kid with your coach, who happens to be my wife.” Art retorts, “You should be so proud.” He flicks the paper into the air, leaving Patrick to reach up and snatch it.

Patrick turns his attention to Andra who’s sitting on the other side of the lounging shaven man, “…you never told us this was some religious town.”

“What?” Andra frowns, trying to not dissociate.

Patrick holds the paper up in the air as if it’s show and tell, “Latter-day saints? Don’t tell us you invited us here to join a cult?”

“I didn’t invite you!” Andra declared while Patrick flicks the paper to the ground and raised his hands in surrender.

Tashi asks Art, “what’s the name of the girl she said she was looking for?”

“It wasn’t Tashi.” Art notifies, “don’t worry.”

Tashi breathed out a laugh, “me? Never.”

Art moves to sit at the dining table glancing at the three in the room. Andra’s gone quiet, Patrick’s humming a tune while he’s messing around with his phone again, and Tashi is burning her stare into him. He knows they’re going to have to talk at some point during this trip but for now?

“Andie and I ate not too long ago but nows a good as time as any to decide what to eat for dinner. So…any suggestions?” Art questions, eyes moving around the sitting room.

Tashi mumbles that it doesn’t matter, arms crossed as she also seems to have a lot on her mind. Patrick is sitting up against the arm of the couch now, blabbing about many options that most likely wasn’t in the fridge or freezer. Art’s eyes are on Andra as she moves to pull the large curtain over the sliding doors, which makes Tashi eye Art watching her as well.

Andra moves back to the kitchen, pulling out some already prepared items from her assistant to rest on the counter. Patrick’s back at the record player and Tashi has now taken Patrick’s spot on the couch.

The braided woman flinches as she feels hands lightly grip her hips. “Hey, are you okay?”

Andra nods, “yeah…I think so. You?”

“Ask me tomorrow,” Art whispers into her ear.

Andra utters, “just need to get through tonight.”

“Yup. Perhaps slow and steady wins this race?” Art guesses as he swiftly presses a kiss to Andra’s hairline by her personalized chocolate chip.

When he leaves her side, Art catches Patrick’s eyes who has his brows raised at that exchange, waiting for Art to tell him something with Art’s own eyes. Art just shifts his blues, leaving the main area to take a minute to himself. That doesn’t last as Patrick shortly follows after Art, seeking answers about what his plan was with Andromeda.

Tashi turns to Andra as Patrick disappears into her shared room with her husband.

“Guess it’s our turn to be fucking housewives, huh?”

Andra leans her elbows along the counter, feeling a cramp in her stomach while she breathed through it, “the real ones just exited the scene.”

Tashi laughs at this as she pushes to her feet looking for a drink. She wouldn’t exactly call this, “happy hour,” but it’ll do for now. Andra knows it’s bad luck not to cheers and Tashi Duncan was one of the last people she wanted to do so with but Andra had a feeling that she didn’t want anymore bad luck.

So the glasses clinked while Patrick and Art hashed it out behind the barn doors. Outside of the cottage by the water, stands a darkened silhouette underneath the slight shade of a dogwood tree, just lurking and waiting for the right time to rally.

Dollface would soon be ready for the next task once the hours passed with some friends to bring to the match.

.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *:･.ೃ࿔ ✈︎ *

Continue with my summer anthology writings & prompts here.