But playing on the same side as her, I had been able to appreciate her strength as a player instead of despising her for it. I was sure, once I was back over that net, I’d be cursing her again, but today, I could appreciate the accuracy of her serves, the force of her returns, the control she had on the ball, even against the signature Scottie Sinclair spin.
She commanded this court, and today, she was my teammate.
Finally, that fire in her eyes relented, and her shoulders slumped beneath my grip. “Fuck... I’m sorry.”
She bit her lip, raking her gaze over the crowd, as if she could feel their narrowed attention, analyzing our every move.
“It’s fine. But no more outbursts, yeah?” I asked, trying to get her to move on, to let the match continue. If we were going to win, I needed her back. “Every time you feel that rage, don’t explode, especially at the umpire. Put that power in your serve, into your returns. If you do that, then they have no chance against us.”
She nodded. “Okay. I can do it.”
“Good.” I smiled and dug a spare ball from my pocket. My wrist ached, the pain nothing new and nothing I couldn’t handle. I handed the ball to her to serve. With only a moment’s hesitation, she took it, returning to the service line, ready to begin again.
I crouched down, fighting the urge to look over my shoulder and watch her serve. The long line of her body as she served was a temptation I didn’t need.
Instead, at the thump of ball hitting racket, I jumped into action, mirroring our competition as Scottie returned the ball. Chloe ran it down, catching it as it threatened to jump out of bounds, before the match settled into a rally, the two of us using all the tricks we had slowly picked up, and this time, I could sense the difference in Chloe’s return.
Eachthwackof the racket was pitch-perfect, sending the ball back over the net with a precision I’d seen only in Grand Slam finals. Each was loaded with that anger she held so tightly, the frustration, but it gave us an edge I was sure would have this match swinging in our direction in no time.
It was only when Dylan moved close to the net, catching the ball and spiking it back down, that she caught me out, the match ending in their favor. It was an impossible shot to come back from, but nonetheless, nerves were biting at me as I looked back over my shoulder at Chloe.
I expected to find her red-faced and already screaming at me for missing. But instead, I watched her chest rise and fall, her eyes shut for a moment, as if she was taking my advice.
Nodding towards her, I mouthed, “Sorry.”
And I didn’t expect it, but when she nodded back, acknowledging my apology before mouthing, “Next time,” I felt a prick of pride.
She had listened to me. And while we didn’t win the match, maybe she could take those feelings, the ones that threatened to burst out of her, and keep channeling them into her plays.
I stood center court as the same man from the opening gala dinner rambled into the microphone, slowly reading a speech he had written on some cue cards.
Beside me, Chloe barely managed to conceal a yawn.
Leaning close, my side bumping against hers, I whispered into her ear, “You’re going to have to work a little harder to not look so bored.”
A sly smile curled her lips. “But Iambored.”
I fought a smile of my own, before she continued. “Why would they even pick this guy to give the speech? I thought these things were supposed to be entertaining.”
“Whatever happened to respecting your elders?”
“That’s before they tried to bore me to death.”
This time I couldn’t contain the chuckle.
“And now for the winners...” the man drawled, pulling our attention as the presentation began. He coughed to clear his throat, the microphone whining slightly before he turned. “Scottie and Dylan, congratulations.”
I watched as my two friends made their way to the stage, two small trophies waiting for them.
Chloe was right. The award was small, practically child-sized.
Chloe and I had found a way to work together, building on everything she’d improved on yesterday. A week or so of doubles training, and she’d be a serious threat to practiced duos. Even Henrik and I had never made such a good pairing.
I’d even found myself proud of her in a way. She’d kept her head when we lost the last set. And although she definitely sulked for the first while, she’d quickly adjusted, and smiled and congratulated our opponents at the net without any trouble.
“Thank God I don’t have to do a speech,” she muttered into my ear. “I hate public speaking.”
I tilted my head at her. “Is that why you scream at umpires?” I joked. “Nerves?”
