Our opponents are good. It’s clear they’ve been playing doubles together for a lot longer than Elias and I have. And it’s that edge that wins them the first tie-break. For a second, I hold my breath, wondering if Elias will have a meltdown, but he takes it well. And when we slap hands, it’s more like a joint commiseration than a begrudged handshake. He puts his hand on my shoulder and leans in to say something in my ear.
“We’ll get them in this set, Harris.”
Something fizzles deep inside. I nod.
We’re on fire in the first service game of the second set.Both serving an ace each and playing clutch in the next game to break them.
Our teammates cheer us on from the sidelines. Our opponents look like they’re panicking on the other side of the net. They probably thought they had it in the bag with our star player gone, but not so fast. We don’t need Priestley Rosenthal to be the best.
We take it to a second tie-break in the second set, Elias serving first. It’s fast, precise, but our opponents get a racket to it and Elias gets into a heated baseline rally. The next time the ball comes into our side of the court, Elias changes course and it looks like a winner, until they return it and it comes into my side of the court. I go on high alert, adrenaline pumping as I touch my racket to it, sending it flying toward the baseline. There’s a fifty-fifty chance I’ve overreached and it’s going out. But then it settles just on the baseline and my teammates go crazy.
Elias barrels into me, lifting me off the ground. My face flushes at the contact, the hard ridges of his chest pressed tightly against mine. I spot Nate over Elias’ shoulder but I can’t read the expression on his face.
I try to put it out of my mind as we play the rest of the tie-break, but I’m distracted and serve a double fault.
“I’m so sorry,” I say when Elias comes to give me my begrudged hand slap. He pats my shoulder.
“Clear your head. Whatever’s on your mind, pick it up after the match.”
I nod. He’s right. I’ve got this.
I manage to pull it back and we win the second set in a nail-biting tie-break, bringing us into a third.
Blocking out everything around me and playing one point at a time, I get into the zone. Elias and I are on fire. Getting into a groove like we’ve been partners for years. Webreak Yale’s serve in the third game and it’s smooth sailing from there on out.
We take the third set 6-4 and the match two sets to one.
Elias and I both win our singles matches and the team takes the win back to Princeton.
Sitting next to Elias on the bus means I don’t have to face Nate yet, or think about the whole dating thing. That must be why I feel so relaxed around this big, cocky, German guy. Because it doesn’t matter what he thinks. And because he seems to be the only person who isn’t trying to get me to do something I don’t want to do—except wake up early.
8
ELIAS
Winning that match against Yale is a double-edged sword. While getting the win is always good, now Ben has an excuse to put a stop to our additional practice sessions, complaining that he needs to sleep. I suspect my awkward attempt at fake dating (and his diabolical inability to lie) also has something to do with him avoiding me.
But I can’t even argue with his excuse about drowning in coursework. I’m only taking freshman classes and I’m still overwhelmed by the workload.
At my next introduction to psychologyclass, I bring my laptop and type my notes, ignoring Joelle’s occasional scowls as she toughs it out with paper and pen beside me.
“On a scale of one to ten, how much did you want to bludgeon me with my laptop in there?” I ask as we’re leaving.
“Eleven,” she says.
As we say goodbye at the door to the life science building, something tugs me back. Since that first time I rejectedher coffee invitation, she hasn’t asked me again. If I want to hang out with her, it’s up to me to make the first move.
“Want to study at the library or something?” I ask. “I’ll buy the coffee.”
A small smile appears along with the forced eyebrow raise.
She shrugs. “Sure. I guess I could use a second opinion on whatever she said in there.”
We grab coffees and set ourselves up at an empty table in the library.
After going through the textbook a few times, we try to make sense of our notes.
“Doesn’t help you writing half German, half English,” Joelle huffs, pushing my laptop back to me across the desk.
