Leaning down, I grab my water bottle. “I need to add playing Sharks and Minnows with kids to my training regiment.”
“It is a good workout,” she says, gulping down water as well.
At that moment, Kyle walks over to us. For a few minutes, I forgot he was here. I noticed throughout the lesson that he kept looking over at Maya. He seemed to be trying to find ways to talk to her, which appears to be his goal again.
“Hey, Maya,” he says, failing to acknowledge me. “I have to get going, but it was so great to see you.”
She tucks a stray hair behind her ear. “Thank you for volunteering today. It was so helpful to have more people wrangling these kids.”
“No problem,” Kyle replies. “Hopefully I’ll see you around more often. Nice to meet you, Eddie.”
Maya nods. Kyle lingers for a moment before turning and walking away. I swear there are little heart emojis in Maya’s eyes, which irks me for some reason. Why on earth do I care?
But, curiosity gets the best of me. “So, you and Kyle…know each other?” Okay that’s a stupid question, because clearly they do. But, I couldn’t think of any other way to pry without seeming too obvious.
“Yeah, we um, went to high school together. He’s a year older than me.” She sets her water bottle down, avoiding eye contact with me.
“Are you blushing?” I ask, noticing the hint of pink in her cheeks.
“No,” she says and then adds, “Okay, maybe. Kyle Barrett was a star athlete, who all the girls had a crush on.”
“Including you?”
“No comment,” she says with a smile. “We should really get back to the game.”
I can’t help but feel accomplished. I have some leverage on the smiley Maya Torres, who met me during my most embarrassing moment. Last night, I woke up in a cold sweat after dreaming that I took the court at Wimbledon in my red Cheez-It boxers. The underwear nightmare will not end.
But maybe I also feel accomplished because I didn’t really have to work that hard to get her to open up about her crush. She willfully told me, and if I'm honest, I wouldn’t mind getting to know her more. I watch Maya as she wraps up the lesson with ease, thanking everyone for coming.
Then, she instructs them all to grab a ball and get in line if they would like an autograph or photo with me. I usually feel uncomfortable in fan meet and greets, but since I actuallyenjoyed lessons today, I’m excited to spend a little more time with these crazy, but undeniably cute kids.
I kneel next to the net so that I’m at eye level with the preschoolers. One by one, the parents encourage their kids to hand me their tennis ball to sign, then smile for a photo.
When the boy, who I remember is named Hudson, appears at the front of the line, he runs and nearly tackles me with a hug. When I recover my balance he says, “My mom told me I had to tell you thank you for lessons today. I had a lot of fun. That girl Maya is pretty. I saw you looking at her. That’s how my dad looks at my mom sometimes…and my nanny.”
Oh, whoa. I nervously chuckle. “You’re welcome for the lessons. I’m glad you had fun.”
“What about Maya? You think she’s nice and pretty, right?” This kid does not let up.
I glance at Maya, who is singing “If You’re Happy and You Know It” to occupy the kids in line. “Maya is awesome,” I say with ease.
He looks at me with a grin of satisfaction. “I knew you liked her. You keep looking at her. Hey, will you play tennis with me again sometime?”
I feel myself freeze momentarily at his remark about Maya. He’s not wrong. Although I’m not usually a fan of people, I like her. But, I do not need to discuss this with a pre-schooler, so I let out a quick breath. My plan is to ignore his Maya statement and focus on his question. “If I make it back to Winterbrook, it would be fun to play tennis with you again.” I smile at him and he gives me another hug.
I don’t want to make any promises I can’t keep, so my answer is intentionally vague. However, I genuinely would enjoy hanging out with Hudson again. His joy and confidence are infectious. Maybe it’ll rub off on me.
“Hudson, honey, stand next to Mr. Evans for a picture. There’s other kids waiting.”
He wraps one arm around my shoulders and flashes a thumbs-up with the other. I feel myself grin. So far, pre-school tennis lessons are the highlight of my trip. I forgot what it was like to be around kids. Their energy and optimism are so refreshing. Was I ever that carefree?
A memory suddenly pops into my mind. I’m ten years old, swimming at the beach, jumping over waves with my four-year-old brother, Joey. My parents are standing nearby, laughing at our antics. The sun warms our skin. I feel happiness swell in my chest.
“Hi.” The sound jolts me back to the present. When I look down, a little girl sways with her hands clasped in front of her.
She shyly holds up a ball. “Will you color on this for me?”
I smile at her question despite the ache in my chest from the lost memory. “Sure. I usually just write my name. Is that okay?”
