In the car, Eddie insists that Roger sit up front while I drive us to the community center. I’m guessing Eddie is trying to stay as far away from me as possible. Roger chats away about the beauty of Winterbrook, but my backseat passenger doesn’t seem to be in the talking mood.
My mind wanders to the dilemma of how to get back in Mr. Evans’s good graces. I mentally scan through Holly’s activity suggestions. What would he enjoy? I should really work up the courage to ask him. I’m not there yet though, so for now, I’m left to my own detective skills.
In my rearview mirror, I glance at Eddie. I swear his face is stuck in a permanent state of stoicism. He’s looking out the window, eyebrows furrowed, back straight, hands on his knees. The tension is oozing off of him.
Who sits in a car like that?
A guy who needs a spa day, that’s who. After all, everyone loves a spa day, right? I’m only assuming everyone does, because I’ve never been able to afford it, but if I could I would. I’ve walked by the spa hundreds of times. Just the sight of the clean white walls and stone countertops wipe away my cares. I can only imagine what a massage would do. Someday, when I own my own business, I’ll be a regular customer.
My eyes are back on the road as we approach the Winterbrook Community Center. “Here we are,” I say after pulling into a spot. “I came in this morning and set everything up, so we should be ready to go.”
“Fantastic!” Roger says as he gets out of the car.
Eddie walks beside us in, you guessed it, silence. Oh boy, it’s going to be a rough day if this guy doesn’t start talking. Am I going to have to teach these tennis lessons? I played tennis in junior high, so I know the basics, but it’s been awhile since I’ve held a racket.
As we walk through the automatic sliding doors, the community center director approaches. “Mary,” I say, “I want to introduce you to Mr. Eddie Evans and his agent, Mr. Roger Gray.”
Mary is the sweetest lady in the world, well, besides my mom. She’s in her 60s with short white hair, but don’t let her looks fool you. She is also one of the most active people I’ve ever met. She’s the perfect person to run the community center and does an amazing job.
“So nice to meet you both,” she replies, shaking their hands. “We are thrilled that you’d take the time to teach lessons today. We have a small but mighty tennis program thanks to our high school coach. He’s been hoping to expand lessons to more age groups. All that to say, we’re so happy you’re willing to help us drum up interest in the sport. Oh look, here he is now.”
We all swing our heads to the entrance, and in walks none other than my high school crush, captain of the tennis and football teams, Kyle Barrett. And dang it, he has only gotten more attractive with time. His hair is golden blond and flowy as ever. Plus, he’s got to be at least 6’ 4.
Kyle was a year older than me, and I, along with every girl in school, couldn’t get over his blue eyes and endless charm. The most I ever interacted with him was in photography class, an elective for juniors and seniors. We ended up being in a group for the final project, and let me tell you, I have never had such a hard time staying focused.
Even though Winterbrook is a fairly small community, I haven’t seen Kyle in a few years. I’d heard he went to college somewhere in California. Butterflies are beginning to fly around in my stomach, just like old times.
“Maya!” he says with a smile as soon as he walks up to us. “So good to see you. And you must be Eddie Evans. Such an honor to meet you, man.” He reaches out to shake Eddie’s hand.
“Kyle,” I say. “Thanks for coming.”
“Yeah, Mary told me about the event. There’s no way I’d miss it. Let me know what you need. I’m just here to help.”
“Well that’s very kind of you. We’ll take all the help we can get.” I look at Eddie for confirmation. However, I get nothing but a head tilt. Best to keep the group moving then. I have never been good at silence. “Right this way to the gymnasium.”
I lead us all down the short hallway to the gym. When we get there, I notice Eddie pauses to take it all in. Then, he beelines for the bag of rackets. I follow after him. “Does everything look okay?”
“These rackets are way too small for teenagers.” He says from a squatting position.
My heart drops. “Oh, these lessons aren’t for teenagers.”
“What?” Eddie scowls.
“They’re for preschoolers.”
“What…,” he says again, but this time with dread.
“I’m sorry, did someone tell you they’d be older?”
“I guess I just assumed.” He runs a hand through his hair, and I swear the color is draining from his face as we speak.
“Mary told me twenty kids have signed up.”
“Twenty.” He swallows.
“Are you okay, Mr. Evans?”
“Call me Eddie,” he says with his eyes glued to the floor.
