Maggie
April - Las Vegas
“Do you see the lines?”Elena tells Jacob after his first serve. “You have to keep the ball inside.” The crowd hoots and hollers and I smile, looking over at Rowan. I don’t know what I expected when I stepped foot on this court for the exhibition match, but it certainly wasn’t a smiley and happy Elena.
We’ve only just started, but already Rowan and I have been communicating well, calling the shots and signaling to one another. Who would have thought that all our hard work the last month would pay off? Even if the game is silly and no one is taking it seriously, I’m proud of how far we’ve come. And we look good in our matching hot pink outfits.
Jacob hits another ball outside the lines and Elena roasts him. “Okay, now we switch,” she says, swatting his ass with her racquet. “You stand by the net and let me do all the work.”
“That’s right,” he says, grinning. “You’re a strong, independentwoman. You don’t need me,” he jokes, turning his back to the net and watching Elena instead.
She laughs and serves, Rowan easily returning the ball.
“Jacob, you might want to get down.” I laugh, tracking the ball as Elena and Rowan hit it back and forth. He laughs and crouches down, giving Elena tips.
“Oh, yeah, just like that. Bend those knees, girl,” he says, making the crowd laugh with his charm and easy humor.
Elena gets distracted and misses the next ball, allowing Rowan to score.
15 - love.
Unlike an actual match, we take turns serving. I tell Rowan I should serve next, so we swap spots. He bends down and gets into position and I’m so distracted by how good his ass looks in those pants, that I say, “I’m really loving this view.”
I slap a hand over my mouth, knocking the microphone in the process. The crowd goes wild once again and Rowan looks over at me, scandalized. “Can someone mute me?” I say, laughing it off, all the while my face is burning.
I set up again for the serve and hit it, grunting in the process. Rowan and Elena laugh and Jacob grunts too, mocking me when he hits the ball back. I didn’t realize how loud we would be when I found out we’d be mic’d up for the match. Now I need to be extra cautious with what comes out of my mouth.
Rowan signals to me and I return the ball in the opposite corner of the court, too far away for Jacob to get to it.
30 - love.
We switch serves again and Elena hits a few beautiful shots, Jacob hyping her up along the way. “Beautiful, look at that forehand. Yes, faster. Harder.”
The ball goes out of bounds and she groans, pinning him with a mock glare.
40 - love.
“Why are you so useless? Are you going to do something?” she tells him as Rowan gets ready to serve. Jacob smirks and as soon as the ball makes it to him, he smashes it overhead, making it impossible for us to return.
“Fuck,” Rowan says and the crowd reacts once more by laughing and gasping along. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, motioning to the crowd.
40 - 15.
“There you go, there’s some backbone to you after all,” Elena says, high-fiving Jacob who gives her a wink. The people along with the commentator are eating it up.
We end up winning the set and take a short break, switching sides and drinking some water.
While we try to play more seriously, it’s clear that all of us are here for a good time, so we give the crowd what they want, taking some trick shots and making fun of the opposition. The next set is won by Elena and Jacob and we head into the final set determined to make it count.
Even though they try their best to play doubles, it’s clear that Jacob and Elena don’t have the same level of comfort and communication that Rowan and I do. They run into one another, forget to call the shots, and ultimately, lose the match.
I grin and wrap my arms around Rowan. “I knew we could do it.”
“Didn’t doubt it for a second,” he says, smiling back at me, both his dimples popping. It would be so easy to lean in and kiss him. But I’m all too aware of the crowd around us and the fact that everyone can hear us. Besides, we haven’t discussed our agreement yet, not since we went camping a week ago.
We go through the motions, shaking hands with everyone involved in the charity match, taking pictures with Elena and Jacob and the giant check for the money we raised.
There’s a swirl of chaos around us as we head down thetunnel to the locker rooms, people cheering and congratulating us. Someone says something about the mics being off and Jacob turns to us, grinning. “That wasn’t fair, you guys have been together for like ten years, of course you know each other so well. Sneaky little hand signals,” he jokes and I laugh.
