“Seriously?”
“Yeah, and not because you’re standing here asking me. I honestly wasn’t sure until right now, but really, it’s the opportunity of a lifetime to play in a main draw at a Grand Slam tournament. I wouldn’t be able to drop it, not even for a chance to win in Bari.”
A sudden surge of gratitude swept through Jasmine like she’d never felt before. Why should she be grateful to a girl she didn’t even like all that much for taking advantage of an opportunity to play at a Grand Slam? It didn’t really make sense, and it was probably fueled more by the champagne than anything else, but before she could stop herself, she hugged Indy.
“Thanks,” she said, pulling away before Indy had a chance to react.
Indy narrowed her eyes, like she didn’t quite trust what just happened. “You’re welcome,” she said, her voice lingering on that last syllable, making it more of a question.
Jasmine ignored it and gave her a smile and a nod. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning for training.”
“Yeah, see you tomorrow.” Indy turned and started down the hallway before she stopped and called back, “Wait!”
Jasmine stopped, tilting her head in question.
Indy rambled, “I know I said we didn’t have to be friends, but you know, I think I might like being friends. If you want, if that’s… cool with you.”
“I would like that, actually.”
And she was surprised to realize that was the truth.
“Good,” Indy said. “So would I, so that’s… that’s good. Good night.”
“Night!” Jasmine turned the idea over in her head as she stepped into her hotel room. She kicked off her heels and rummaged through her suitcase for some pajamas. It had been a long day, and curling up in her bed sounded like a pretty good way to end it. After scrubbing off her makeup and washing her face, she stared at her reflection. Maybe Indy was right. Maybe they could be friends. And maybe eventually it would stop feeling a little bit forced and turn into something real.
She switched off the bathroom light and climbed into bed. On her nightstand her phone lit up, vibrating, and Teddy’s contact appeared on the screen. Her stomach flipped and her heart skipped, and she didn’t have the energy to be annoyed at herself for it. She answered the call. “You’ll never guess what happened.”
“Good job, ladies!” Dom called from the sidelines as they finished up their workout with a set of Einstein sprints that made the other players on the practice courts stare in horror.
Jasmine slowed to a halt and held her hand up for Indy, who slapped it, hard. “Nice,” she said, and meant it. Indy looked fabulous during their practice session, despite thechampagne. Actually, they both had. Indy’s conditioning level was finally catching up to Jasmine’s, and they’d torn up the court for the two hours Dom had reserved it. Their sneakers and the lower halves of their legs were covered in red clay, but their faces were both lit up with smiles. Jasmine finally understood what Teddy meant about Dom being a genius. She felt it every time Indy served a bullet up the center of the court, or she got to a ball Indy couldn’t quite reach. They had a real chance to open some eyes if what they brought at practice translated into their first-round match the next day.
“I’ve got to get to Penny’s match,” Dom finally said, checking the time on his phone. “Cool down, shower, and I’ll see you later.”
Jasmine was ready just before Indy, but once she was, Indy turned to her and said, “You wanna go to Penny’s match? She invited me, and I know they have a few empty seats in the box.”
“Sure,” Jasmine said, feeling somehow like she’d gotten an invite to the inner circle, one she hadn’t even realized existed but was also desperate to be a part of.
They made it to the player’s box just in time for the coin toss. Jack’s seat was on the aisle, with Dom next to him and Alex the farthest down the row. She and Indy settled into the seats behind them.
It was as big a mismatch as Jasmine had ever seen. Penny Harrison, who’d defeated the number one player in the world in her last tournament, against some poor random French qualifier. The first couple of rounds at a Grand Slam tendedto be like that. The highest-ranked athletes usually drew players who came through the qualifying rounds or a wild card and who’d spent most of the tennis season on the Challenger circuit and not on the main tour.
Pulling her phone from her bag, Jasmine held it up to snap a picture of the court where Penny and her opponent were warming up. She added a quick caption—Courtside at Roland-Garros for Penny’s match!—and sent it out into the void.
A minute later, her phone vibrated and a message popped up from Teddy:
Updates please!
Don’t you have twin ESP? You tell me how it’s going to go.
Maybe I just want to talk to you.
Talked to you last night.
Too long ago. Call me tonight?
The chair ump climbed up into his seat and said, “Play,” and Jasmine put her phone away, Teddy’s message unanswered.
“Here we go,” Indy said.
