“Nah, I’ve got somewhere to be and you owe me a bit of a chat.”
“Fine, next point.”
It was his serve. He stood tall, then coiled his body down, his back bending as he lifted the ball up into the heavens. Then, like lightning, he sprung, the ball a missile, but she was ready, pouncing on it, returning it deep into his side of the court.
“Out!”
“Bullshit,” she called back at him, jogging around the net. It was a clay court; there would be a mark where the ball landed. He met her there, pointing to the skid past the white line with his racket head.
“Out,” he repeated. “Shame you refuse to take me at my word.”
Penny’s head snapped up. “And why should I trust you?”
“Have I ever given you reason not to?”
It was a fair question, she admitted to herself, not that she’d ever tell him that, so she shrugged. It’s not like it mattered. Whether she could trust him or not wasn’t the issue. She couldn’t trust herself to keep her focus if she was with him. If it happened in Australia, it could happen again, and Penny wasn’t willing to take that risk.
“I think I know what the problem is. You don’t know me.”
“I know you as well as I ever want to.” She made forthe edge of the court, slid her racket back into its bag, and zipped up.
He waved away her response and kept talking. “I mean it. I like training here. I like working with Dom, and God help me, I actually like training with you, but if we don’t figure out some of the shit between us, it’s not going to work, not long-term.”
“Yeah, you not around to torture me, that would be tragic.”
He ignored the sarcasm and nodded. “Indeed, it would, so come here and lie down on the court with me.”
She squinted at him, the request coming out of nowhere. “What? No.”
“This will help your game.”
Unconvinced, she lifted her bag over her shoulder, ready to leave.
“Jesus, do you fight everyone like this or is it just me?”
It was just him. No one had ever made her feel the way he did. “I’m not lying down.”
“Do you want to win the bloody French Open or not?”
Did she want to win the French Open? Of course she did. So she put her bag down. “Sounds too good to be true,” she said, and watched him as he reclined onto the court. “Was this what you were doing on your first day here?”
“Yes. It was something I hadn’t done for a long time, but if you’ll trust me for half a second, I promise it’ll work. Now get down here.”
She kneeled, the clay shifting beneath her and sticking to her sweaty knees. Then she rolled over onto her back, careful to keep a body width of distance between them. “Okay, now what?”
“Now close your eyes and let your mind go blank.”
“That’s not possible. I’ll just be thinking about not thinking.”
“Penny,” he said, reaching out, his fingers wrapping lightly around her wrist. She wanted to pull away, but something about the way he said her name, a desperate note in his voice she hadn’t heard before, kept her still. “Close your eyes and breathe.”
He inhaled deeply and she followed him, matching his breathing pattern. A soft pressure on the inside of her wrist kept time for them, back and forth, his calloused thumb stroking against the sensitive skin.
“Do you really hate me?”
The question startled her so much, she actually answered. “No.” She didn’t have to open her eyes to know he was smiling. “I don’t hate you.”
“Then why did you leave?”
