Ha! I laugh and write back,But I thought the type of ball you play with really matters?
That’s a cop out. Good players can play with any ball
I reply,Just making sure I’m reading you right. Seemed like a sore subject
He doesn’t respond right away, and I worry I’ve angered the beast. I send another message.
Let me talk with Sam about the lessons. We were kind of supposed to do it together. Really appreciate the offer.
-A
I wait a few moments, and I’m just about to put the phone down and restart my episode when a bolded message jumps to the top of my inbox.
Have you figured out Garrett yet?
My heart jolts. I sit up straight and hunch over my phone.
Is there something to figure out?I type, not exactly sure how to respond to that. This was very not professional.
You said you were into him.
Um excuse me, I never said that. I keep reading.
We’ve been friends for a while. I could probably give you some tips.
My cheeks warm, my whole body tingling. My thumbs start to type.
Trade? I help with your coaching hours, you help with . . .
I pause, trying to figure out how best to say that.With bagging Garrett? With convincing Garrett to love me?I laugh. Nope.
You help me be more attractive to men?
Well, one man specifically. I press send. At least it’s funny. The idea of having insider information about Garrett makes me feel a little dirty . . . and I can’t say I’m opposed to it. Sam is going to lose her mind when I show her screenshots.
His response is instant.
Deal. Sam’s welcome, too.
eight
The neon paddlesign over Smash Point Social blinks as we cross the parking lot, trying not to blow away. Sam and I parked next to each other. It would’ve been ideal to drive together, but she has to leave ten minutes early to get on a family video chat. Her brother’s planning a wedding, and she’s doing the invitations.
I shiver, wishing I’d brought a better jacket. The wind picked up after work, and now the black clouds are rolling in with it. The Tuesday night air smells like fall leaves, rain, and smoked meat from the taco truck sitting at the back of the parking lot. My stomach wishes we’d arrived a half hour earlier.
Sam bumps my shoulder with hers. “What secrets do you think he’s going to dish?”
I groan. “I have no idea. This is a bad idea, right?” Who am I kidding? Even if we had shown up earlier, I couldn’t have eaten tacos. My stomach has been in knots since the weekend.
“I don’t know. He’s the one who offered.”
I wince. “Meaning what? That he won’t tell Garrett?” That was the “what if” keeping me up at night. What if this was all some stupid set up? What if Garrett had seen me salivating,peering at him through my office windows, and thought it would be hilarious to play a game with me?
I think of Calder bringing me the ice pack. Of Garrett closing deals at work. Did I think either of them were capable of something so mean-spirited? No. But the insecurities inside me aren’t quite so confident.
We step inside and the familiar Smash Point soundtrack envelopes us. Paddles kissing balls, sneakers squeaking, the playlist bumping 90s hits. Cool air slinks under my skirt, raising goosebumps along my thighs.
The lobby and open spaces between courts are surprisingly packed. People cluster around high tops, laughing and sharing food.
