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A nervous, boyish grin flickers across his face as he dodges a woman with a massive umbrella. “How are you doing? What’s on your Saturday agenda?”
For a second, I consider telling him everything. About the sponsorship. About Theo’s mystery coach. About how terrified I am. But this moment belongs to him.
“Good. Staying busy,” I say quickly. “I’ve been invited to help at a tennis clinic. And if all goes well, maybe I’ll have some good news of my own to share.”
“That’s brilliant, Katie. I’ll be cheering for you,” he says. “Tell me all about it tomorrow? I’ve got Sunday off.”
“Sounds good. I want to hear all about this lead role too. Good luck, Max.”
“Cheers.” He grins, and the screen turns black.
The silence stretches between us, broken only by the rhythmic click of Zoe’s turn signal.
I can’t stop smiling. Max finally got his chance.
“So the tennis coach you’re trying to impress,” she finally says. “You were cryptic about it yesterday. Fill me in. What do you know about this guy?”
“His name’s Andrew.”
Zoe stares for a moment. “And?”
“That’s it.”
“Katie. I can’t believe you’re going in blind!” She throws me a look of pure disbelief.
“Theo forgot to send me the details, and I didn’t want to bug him again. I already had to text him once to ask for his friend’s name and his assistant’s email.”
I’ve realized Theo’s brain works differently than mine. Once he solves a problem, he immediately moves on to the next one.
“Fair enough.”
Zoe slows down as we reach the gates of the USTA National Campus. My stomach does a slow roll. I expected a local club or a public park . . . not a small city dedicated entirely to tennis. This is where some of the best players in the country play.
She parks the car near the sprawling clubhouse, and I stay seated for a second. My hand hovers near the door handle. I can feel the dull ache below the thick layers of athletic tape hidden under my sock. I haven’t swung a racquet in seven days. It might not sound like much, but in tennis, it’s an eternity.
“Thanks for driving me today. I promise I’ll get the car thing sorted out this week.”
Zoe tsks, reaching over to pat my arm. “Don’t worry about that. I’m happy to chauffeur you around as long as you need. Just focus on today.”
I nod and grab my bag. “I’m gonna check in with the receptionist,” I say.
“Text me if you need backup. I’ll be hanging around the outlets,” she says.
“Okay,” I say, closing the door and taking a few steps to the curb.
“And Katie?” she calls through the open car window.
I turn back, my hand on the strap of my bag.
“Remember that you’re still healing. I know it’ll be tempting to try and show off once you see those courts. But resist the urge. Show this guy the best you can be right now.”
“I will.”
Zoe waits until I disappear through the heavy clubhouse doors before she finally drives off. I take a breath, the scent of expensive floor wax and new tennis balls hitting me all at once. “Here goes nothing.”
I square my shoulders and walk inside.
The sound of a tennis ball being struck at ninety miles per hour echoes across the court. It’s the kind of sound that usually makes my blood pump, but today, it just makes my stomach churn in knots.
