“That’s the thing, I don’t know if we will,” I pout and take a sip of my Coke.
There’s so much energy coming off Jacob, that I think he might stand up and start pacing the bar area. “Right now, what matters is this tournament. Have you really lost sight of that?”
I sigh, looking around the hotel bar, hoping that I can maybe see a glimpse of Maggie. Is she here with Andreea? Is she here alone?
“Rowan,” Jacob says, smacking my arm.
“What?” I ask, dazed.
“Your head is not in the game, man. You need to focus,” Jacob says, tapping the bar with his fingers.
“Areyouokay?” I ask, taking in his disheveled appearance and the dark circles under his eyes.
“Me? Fine,” he says, pinning me with his turquoise blue eyes. I cross my arms and stare at him until, eventually, he relents. “I haven’t been sleeping well,” he says, eying mewearily. “I shouldn’t be telling you this since I’m likely going to play you in the finals, but my knee has been bothering me.”
“Your knee? When did you get injured?” I ask, confused.
Jacob swallows and looks down at his non-alcoholic beer, debating whether or not to tell me what’s on his mind. Eventually, he relents and says, “It’s an old injury. I tore my ACL when I played at Uni. It took me a year to get back to playing.”
“Shit, man. That’s intense. I had no idea,” I say, frowning.
“Yeah, I don’t exactly broadcast it to my competition.” He laughs, giving me a sad smile.
I reach out and grasp his shoulder, squeezing tight. “I’m your friend, I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize your confidence.”
“I know, mate. It’s why I told you, even though you can use it against me in the finals.” He grins and I shake my head.
“I would never,” I say.
On the dayof the semifinals, I stick to my routine—go on a run on the treadmill in the arena’s gym, chat strategy and shots with my coach. I try to follow Jacob’s advice and get my head in the game. It’s not easy when I see a flash of blonde hair and blue eyes and it immediately reminds me of Maggie and how she’s not herewithme.
The articles haven’t stopped in the last three weeks, as they continued to speculate about our relationship, or lack-there-of. People have noticed we’re not spending time together for the tournament, and a whole new wave of attention is on us, speculating if we’ve broken up.
I catch sight of Jacob’s match on one of the screens in the players’ lounge and smile to myself. He’s in the lead afterwinning the first set 6-4 and I watch his next serve. He shifts from one leg to the other and winces but as soon as he hits the ball, it lands at the edge of the service box and has enough spin to bounce out of bounds. His opponent, a rising Australian player, has no chance to even touch it with his racquet. A perfect ace.
I grin to myself and make my way to the quiet room. The space is large, with soft and dimmed lights, a mini fridge with waters and smoothies, and a couple of beds and couches for people to relax in.
Laying down on the comfortable mattress, I adjust the pillow under my head and stare up at the ceiling, trying to get my mind to focus for my match. I silence my phone and text my coach to come get me when Jacob’s match ends and then I close my eyes.
As soon as I do, I’m hit with all the anxiety and emotion of the last few weeks. What if my friendship with Maggie is completely ruined now? I don’t think I could be the same without her in my life.
Who would I spend all my time with if not her? Who would I take to Sunday brunch? Take Archie on a run with? Watch movies on the couch with?
The knot in my throat keeps rising until it chokes me. I turn and bury my head in the pillow to muffle my cry.
The last thought I have before sleep pulls me under is,what if she wants nothing to do with me anymore?
CHAPTER 31
Rowan
May - French Open
Someone is shakingme out of my sleep. I mumble something, only half coherently, and my sore eyes blink open, taking in my surroundings. A quick glance at the phone next to me tells me it’s only been thirty minutes since I fell asleep.
I groan and turn towards the arm that’s still shaking me, about to ask my coach why he’s here so early, but instead I’m met with a curtain of long blonde hair and wide blue eyes.
“Mags?” I ask, running the heel of my palm over my eyes, making sure she’s actually here.
