“I don’t know, I just didn’t picture him for you. I guess I was wrong about what kind of guy you should be with.”
No, you probably weren’t wrong. Elias isn’t Mr. Right. He’s just Mr. Right Now.
I shrug instead of telling the truth.
“You can’t help who you fall for, right?” Nate nudges me.
“I didn’t say I was in love with the guy!”
“Okay.” Nate holds his hands up. “But it’s really hard not to fall for someone who doesthatto you.” He laughs, rolling himself up off the bed.
He leaves me with an uneasy feeling after those words. I’m not in love with Elias. It doesn’t matter how good he is in bed or how easily he gives me exactly what I want. It’s just sex. The relationship is not real.
So why does my heart pound so hard when he texts,thankingme for the past few days? Did he have as much fun as I did?
I reply with my usual barrage of emojis, telling him I can’t wait to kick Harvard’s butts with him. God, it feels good to have a boyfriend. Even if it is a fake one.
I tryto prepare for the moment I see Elias in front of everyone after what happened, but I still don’t think anything can prepare me when I walk into the locker room and our eyes meet.
At least he has his clothes on.
I can feel Nate’s eyes on us as Elias stands up to greet me. He’s smiling, but it’s not his usual cocky grin. He looks almost … shy?
I don’t know what todo so I just say hi and take a seat. While my back’s turned, looking for my sports socks, my phone buzzes with a message.
I’d kiss you hello, but I don’t think that would be appropriate in the locker room.
My heart soars as I reply.
Agreed. Let’s keep it professional.
There’s a little snort behind me and I turn around to find Elias laughing as he looks at his phone. I made him laugh. Nate catches the exchange and shares a conspiratorial smile with me. My mood drops. It’s going to suck when Elias leaves and Nate thinks we broke up. He’s going to want to comfort me. And you know what? I think I’m going to need comforting.
Coach Sanchez comes in and gets us riled up—for the upcoming match, but also for Indian Wells.
“I’m proud of you guys, you work hard and you look out for each other.” He glances around the room, his gaze landing on where Elias is sitting on the bench, lacing up his tennis shoes. “You really go above and beyond, put the extra hours in and bring the passion and enthusiasm this sport deserves. You should be proud of yourselves. The school’s lucky to have you gentlemen representing it today and next week in California.” Coach almost looks misty-eyed. “Now,” he says, clearing his throat. “Time to go out there and show Harvard whywe’rethe best team in the Ivy League.”
Cheers go up at that comment.Hell yeah. We may not have the best hockey or football or lacrosse team in the league, but we do have the highest ranked tennis team in the Ivy. That at least is something to be proud of.
Elias and I are up first. I worry our rhythm might havebeen thrown off by all the … you know …sex… but as soon as we start to play, it’s clear we’re perfectly in-sync.
We’ve been practicing non-verbal communication, signals and whatnot, ever since that first extra practice session with Coach Sanchez, but there’s something else helping us wipe the floor with Harvard’s best doubles matchup out there. Something that runs deeper than practice.
There’s this ingrained trust running through our partnership now. We don’t bump into each other anymore. No one misses the ball because we assume the other’s going to get to it. It’s like we’re inside each other’s heads. We’re playing full clutch, from beginning to end, and it’s magic.
We barely even notice the scoreboard until it’s announced that we demolished our opponents, serving them a bagel in the first set (6-0) and a breadstick in the second (6-1).Nice.
Our celebration is muted compared to how I’m sure we’d like to celebrate. But I think we’d give something away this time if Elias tried to pick me up and hug me.
I can feel him inches away as we watch Nate and Archer go out to play for the second doubles point. The knowledge that his body is so close has little electric currents zipping over the surface of my skin. My fingers twitch of their own accord until they graze the side of his hand. Surprised at myself for being so reckless, I gape at him with wide eyes, but he just flashes me a cheeky wink and my face floods with heat.
Nate and Archer come through a nail-biting tie-break to win the second doubles point and it’s Elias’ turn to play his singles match against Harvard’s second highest ranked player.
I’m always nervous when one of my teammates go out toplay a match. Nate especially. But watching Elias step onto the court has my heart in my throat. I’ve never been this nervous watching someone else play tennis before. What’s wrong with me? I guess I’ve seen behind Elias’ cocky exterior and know how much this means to him.
I realize I’m biting my nails when I catch Nate eying me with concern.
Turns out I had no reason to stress. Elias is on fire. He puts a masterclass on for his opponent. He’s all over the court. His long limbs reaching every ball. He’s fast, agile, powerful with his serve. If we had one of those machines that tell you the speed of your serve I’m sure Elias’ would be showing well over 110mp right now.
