I squirm. Saying no isn’t really my strong point. “We do need practice.”
“No,heneeds practice. You’re great.”
Warmth emanates from my center and I try not to get carried away. Nate isn’t even looking at me anymore.
“But we’re a team, right?”
“Did he even word it nicely?”
I look at the text again. “He was a bit blunt. But not everyone dances around a point. Some people just … get to it.”
“This is your senior year, you can’t be falling asleep in your classes because someone had you up hours before your first class to practice for matches that aren’t going to matter in the grand scheme of things.”
I’m a little shocked Nate is being so blasé. “You do want to make it to regionals again this year don’t you?”
“Totally!” He sets the notebook aside and sighs. “I’m just trying to be practical, too. I know how important your grades are to you.”
And my dad. No Harris has ever graduated Princeton with anything less than a magna cum laude.
“I do think he has a point, though,” I say. “I mean, we don’t want to embarrass ourselves against Yale on Saturday. Imagine how it would look if we were bumping into each other on every other point.”
“There’s always the option to speak to Coach.”
I squirm. I hate the thought of doing anything to make someone feel like a failure. “No, I can’t do that.”
“I could do it for you.”
“Thanks, but no. I think I’d rather try and get better. If we don’t improve by the Yale match, then I’ll see if I can convince Elias to speak to Coach himself.”
Nate nods, but I can see he doesn’t really agree. Heprobably thinks I’m being a pushover, as usual. But this time, I think this is the only option that doesn’t suck.
I’m re-thinkingthe whole not sucking thing when my alarm wakes me at 6:15 the following morning. I groan and hit the stop button on my phone before remembering that I actually have to get up, shower, get dressed, eat something, drive over to the tennis courts and practice before I start my actual day.
Another groan escapes.
At least the kitchen is deserted when I pad downstairs in my tennis clothes. The locker room is cold at the best of times—I don’t want to get dressed in there when the sun has barely risen. I’m still wiping sleep from my eyes as I climb into the car and drive down a deserted Greek Row.
The sun is coming up as I reach the tennis center, and I can’t deny it looks beautiful. I grabbed a coffee and a pastry on the way and now I have crumbs all over my hoodie, but the coffee has woken me up a little and I never get to see the sunrise. It’s especially gorgeous as it rises behind the sleek pine exterior of the brand-new tennis center. I’m so lucky to be here. I might be a legacy, my place at Princeton and Alpha Sigma Psi already laid out for me, but I’ve still had to work my butt off to get good grades and become vice president. And okay, maybe there’s still a bit—or a lot—of nepotism there, but I hope Nate and I can balance that out somehow with our business. Share the benefits that come from who our dads are. Yin the Yang or dole out some karma,. Something like that.
I only realize I should have offered to pick Elias up whenI spot Coach Sanchez’s car in the parking lot and remember that Elias doesn’t have one.
The sound of tennis balls bouncing off a hard court hits me the second I climb out of the car. Voices floating across the net alert me to the fact that Elias is not alone, and that he got started without me.
I bypass the locker room and head out to the court with my racket bag slung over my shoulder. Elias is hitting balls with Coach. One-on-one like this, he’s pretty impressive. That long body stretches effortlessly for the ball. And the raw power behind that serve?Wow.
It’s only when I drag my eyes off Elias and make my way over to the court that I ask myself,Doesn’t Coach Sanchez have a life?I’m pretty sure he has a wife and kids. How did Elias wrangle him into being here so early?
Coach spots me first and stops mid-hit, waving me over. I jog up to the sideline.
“Coach, what are you doing here so early?”
“Elias said you guys needed a little help getting coordinated, and I thought that was a good idea.”
So he saw how clumsy we were, too?Great.
Doubles partnerships are like romantic relationships. Some people are compatible, and others aren’t. How do I even say that without insulting Elias and making myself blush like crazy? Instead, I head over to the other side of the net and listen to Coach’s instructions before he starts hitting balls to us.
He’s mostly working on our communication. Teaching us how to understand and trust when our partner is going for the ball.
