Penny got off to a blazing start, and after fifteen minutes of dominating play, she was only a point away from winning the first set. Her opponent looked exhausted and beaten, sitting in her chair during a changeover and staring out into space.
Finally, during the break between sets, as everyone else stood to stretch their legs, Jasmine looked at her phone. Teddy had sent five messages, the last a picture of him sittingup against the fence at OBX, shirtless and sweaty, sticking his tongue out and crossing his eyes. God, he was so hot it actually hurt. Laughing, Jasmine sent a message back:Nice face. Penny’s up a set.
“What’s funny?” Indy asked, sitting down beside her.
“Nothing.”
Indy narrowed her eyes and focused on her phone. “Who are you texting?”
“Did anyone ever tell you that you ask too many questions?”
“Did anyone ever tell you that you have the worst poker face ever? You’re texting Teddy, aren’t you?” Indy plucked the phone from her hand.
“So what?” Jasmine said, stealing it back.
“He’s never going to appreciate you if you’re always at his beck and call.”
“Beck and call, what are you, eighty?” Jasmine shut the phone completely off and tossed it into her bag, then crossed her arms. “He’s my friend. It’s not like I’m never going to talk to him again.”
“You shouldn’t. Maybe if you cut him off it’ll make him miss you.”
“That’s worked before.”
“Wait, you’ve tried that?”
“Yeah and it worked. He missed me.”
“But as what? His friend? You’re never going to get over him if you guys stay friends. You should end it now and stop torturing yourself.”
Jasmine’s gaze flicked toward Jack, who was standing in the aisle and talking to a rep from one of Penny’s sponsors—Nike, if the swoosh logo on his shirt was anything to go by.She turned back to Indy, who was still staring at Jack, and it had Jasmine hoping that wasn’t whatherface looked like when she was around Teddy.
“Maybe you should take your own advice.”
Indy’s shoulders deflated a little. “Maybe I should.”
THE PLAYERS’ LOUNGE WAS PACKED. INDY FIGURED THAT MADEsense since it was only the second day of the tournament and almost no one had been eliminated yet. She took in the players and their coaches discussing match strategy, some friends and family hovering in the background. Jasmine sat next to her, scrolling through her phone like she didn’t have a care in the world, even though their first match was minutes away.
Sitting back, leg bouncing, Indy looked around the room. She was a nervous wreck and the crowd wasn’t helping. She hated this. Just like at the Classic, she felt fine until right before a match, and then the jitters started. Except now there was no hope of stepping out onto the court against a weaker opponent. She was at the fucking French Open and they were playing Zina Lutrova and Ekaterina Grishina. Though the two Russians hadn’t played together before,they were training for Olympic doubles and were using this tournament as a practice run.
Jasmine glared at her and then glanced down at her knee. Indy muttered an apology and stilled the constant, nauseating motion. But she squirmed in her seat, bringing her thumb to her mouth to chew on her fingernail instead.
“Ladies, good news,” Dom said, throwing himself down in a chair across from them. “You two have a walkover.”
“You’re kidding,” Jasmine said.
“Nope,” he said, passing her an updated copy of the draw. “Lutrova withdrew from doubles. She wants to focus on singles. No match today.”
“So, we won?” Indy asked.
“That’s one way of looking at it, I guess. Next match is scheduled for the day after tomorrow. You’ve got a real opportunity here. Let’s not let it go to waste. I reserved a few hours on a practice court so you can get some work in and stay fresh, but congrats, you’re through to the second round.” He stood and left, moving to the buffet.
“Wow, that was easy,” Indy said, grinning, her nerves gone now that they didn’t actually have to play.
“Not really. Did you see who our potential next-round match would be?”
“No, I didn’t look at the draw.”
“Why wouldn’t you look at the draw?”
