Taking a deep breath, I open the stall door and face the music.
“There you are!” Nate’s face lights up. I hold onto that sight. Push out how terrible it’s going to make me feel later, when he’s with Evan and I’m alone. Right now he’s happy to see me and that’s all that matters.
“Come on,” Nate says. “Let’s get out of here.”
The sky isfull of dark clouds. Rain batters the roof of Nate’s SUV. I tune into the sound of the window wipers squeaking across the windshield and the low hum of Nate’s music playing quietly in the background as he drives us home.
“Sorry tonight was a bit of a bust,” he says as he takes the turn onto Greek Row.
Nate tuts as we pass Kappa House, where they’re throwing a party. There’s a roll of toilet paper discarded across their lawn and someone’s throwing up in a bush while two people make out amidst the debris of crushed cans and Solo cups.
“It’s okay,” I say as I pick absentmindedly at the vinyl sealing the window.
“Ben, I promise Iwillfind you a boyfriend. We just have to be patient, but?—”
“Nate,” I cut him off and glance at his big eyes in the mirror. The last thing I want is to seem ungrateful. But I wish I could tell him I don’t need his pity. In fact, it makes me feel like crap.
“Yeah?” he asks when I fail to say anything.
“Nothing. I was just gonna say thanks.”
His face softens.
“You don’t have to thank me. That’s what friends are for.”
My heart sinks as Nate switches off the engine.
Yeah right, friends.
2
ELIAS
Iam not here to make friends.
I remind myself of this as I step off the bus and check Google Maps for the location of the tennis center, because I am going to have to get used to having teammates for the first time. Teammates who are also my competition for the attention of coaches and trainers.
I studied the university tennis roster last night from my dorm while my very stereotypically named American roommates, Chad and Jesse, were playingCall of Dutyon full volume in the shared living room.
I wanted to see who my biggest competition was. Who got the most attention from the press? Who had the highest ranking in the ITA? Who had played Challenger tours over the summer break? What were their junior careers like? Did they have any ATP points?
I was relieved to find that the tennis team seems to be made up of academic overachievers, people to whom tennis is a social event and a hobby. A hobby they are pretty good at, considering they currently stand at number two in the overall standings, just behind Stanford. Aside from theircollege records—most notable being a North Coast Atlantic Conference championship two years in a row—there are no stand-out future pros that I can see. Benjamin Harris is the highest ranked player on the team at number twelve.
According to the team’s website, Benjamin Harris is a nice-looking guy with chubby cheeks that contradict his athletic frame. His stats were all listed underneath his picture—age: twenty-one, height: 6’2, weight: 170 pounds, current year: senior. There’s nothing on his pro career yet. I have no idea what he’s studying, but from looking up the boarding school listed on his profile, I’m guessing he’s from a wealthy family and expected to go into some sort of family business venture the day after graduation.
But as I stand in front of one of the most impressive tennis centers I have ever seen, the relief I’d felt last night before clicking off Benjamin Harris’ smiling face instantly flees my body.
I’d checked out the facilities before accepting my offer but standing in front of the newly built center is something different entirely.
Deep blue courts are pristinely maintained behind the fanciest log cabin you can imagine. A pine sundeck cut out of the cube-like structure is held up by metal beams and adorned with small, square windows for an office and a players’ lounge.
I am purposefully early, and as I walk across the grass out front of the main entrance, I try to still my heart as it thumps in my chest.
Pull yourself together.
I’ve played pro Challenger tours with actual crowds. Games where not only money is on the line, but points, reputation, players’ entire futures.
This year is an interlude. A means to getting a newcoach after my last one dropped me when it became clear my wrist injury would require surgery and at least six months of recovery.
