Jasmine pushed through the crowd and saw Indiana hovering at the back, her weight shifting back and forth, eyes focused on the board, but not moving any closer to it. It almost seemed like she was scared to look. Their eyes met, but Jasmine just strode past her, across the atrium straight for the door. As she was about to open it, someone pulled it away from the outside.
A tiny woman with caramel skin just like Jasmine’s, dressed in a flowing white dress down to her ankles, secured at the waist by a large brown leather belt, and a tall man in jeans and a collared shirt were standing just outside the door.
“Mom, Dad, what are you guys doing here? I thought we were going to meet up later?” she whispered, glancing back over her shoulder to see if the other girls noticed the appearance of the stylish couple.
“We came for you.” Her mom, Lisa, practically skipped the last few steps between them, bracelets jangling at her wrists, before pulling her into a hug. “Number one ranked in the tournament. Mija, I am so proud of you.”
Jasmine lifted her head from her mom’s shoulder and saw her dad, John, standing behind them. Her parents were her biggest fans. Tennis was never something she was expected to do. They never even brought up the subject of playing until she begged for lessons when she was seven. Yet, despite all the success they enjoyed in their own careers, the smallest things, like a number one ranking in a junior tournament, had them beaming like she won a Grand Slam. The problem was it was still a number one ranking in a junior tournament and not a Grand Slam victory. But she was going to eventually get one—that was the plan—and the OBX Classic was a necessary stop on the path she’d wanted to travel since she was old enough to understand exactly who her parents were.
A lock of salt and pepper hair fell onto her father’s forehead. “Dom called me when he put the rankings together. I wanted to be here when you found out.”
“Oh my God,” a breathy voice said from behind her. “Mr. and Mrs. Randazzo are here.”
The crowd behind Jasmine converged around them. Though her parents had founded OBX, they pretty much gave Dom free reign to run the academy as he saw fit and stayed out of his way. So whenever they showed up on the grounds, it was a pretty big deal for the other students.
“Can I have a picture?” Lara asked, holding her phone out and sidling right up to Jasmine’s dad, snapping a picture before he could answer one way or the other.
“I watch the video of your French Open win all the time,” Katie said to her mom, leaning around Jasmine’s shoulder. Jasmine fought down the urge to snap her elbow into Katie’s stomach.
“Wait, will you sign my racket bag?” Keisha asked, digging through the bag for a pen.
Her mom shot Jasmine an apologetic grin, but then turned to the group of girls and patiently responded to them one by one.
A small shriek from over by the rankings list echoed over the din of autograph and picture requests and Jasmine’s eyes flew to where Indiana Gaffney stood, hand over her mouth, staring at the board. The blond girl turned around, her hand falling away, a huge smile on her face. Apparently, she’d worked up the courage to look at the list. Jasmine averted her eyes. She was ready to live up to her parents’ legacy, and if she beat Indiana Gaffney along the way, so much the better.
Chapter 4
May 14th
Fourth. Dom ranked her fourth in the Classic. Sure, after coming to OBX, Indy had every intention of taking everyone by surprise in the tournament, battling her way into the final and winning the whole damn thing. She just hadn’t expected Dom to rate her so highly. He hadn’t even watched her train that morning before he put the rankings out—and thank God for that because he probably would’ve changed his mind. It was all she could think about during lunch, right through the afternoon workout in the gym and during dinner, that and the word Coach D’Amato had used during morning practice. Inaccettabile. That’s what the tiny Italian coach called her footwork, and now, the day was almost over, but the word was still ringing in Indy’s head. She was ranked fourth, even with her inaccettabile footwork.
Indy didn’t speak Italian, but that word was easy enough to translate: unacceptable, not good enough, weak. That meant more practice. So after dinner she headed straight out to the junior practice courts to start addressing that weakness.
Tossing her racket bag against the fence, she leaned down and grabbed the small orange cones sitting on the ground. She’d start out simple. Moving to the middle of the court, she placed them about ten feet apart and stood in the center. One crossover step to the right and then back to the middle, another crossover to the left and retreat again. Over and over, keeping her feet moving and then faster and faster, like she’d seen Jasmine Randazzo do this morning at practice, like Penny Harrison did against Zina Lutrova. Time flew, and as the scuffing of her sneakers against the hard court sped up, so did her breathing, coming in short puffs. Her legs were tired after a long day of training, but that was all the more reason to push through. She couldn’t just take a little break during a match if her legs got tired. Finally, she had to stop to catch her breath. She stood, hands on her knees, breathing deeply.
There were eyes on her. Indy could feel stares burning into her skin like white-hot laser beams, making the hair at the back of her neck, now sticky with sweat, stand up on end, sending a shiver down her spine.
“Some people, Addison, I swear. They just don’t know their place,” a sharp southern twang rang out from behind her.
“I totally agree, Lara.”
Indy knew exactly who was standing there. Addison Quinn and Lara Cronin, the two girls who’d giggled when Jasmine snubbed her that morning. Lara was her future first-round opponent in the Classic and Addison was the girl who’d collapsed into sobs when she hadn’t made the cut at all. Indy bit back a sharp retort and ignored them, hoping they’d go away. She started up her drill again, focusing more closely on keeping her footwork crisp and her strides long.
“I mean think about it,” Lara continued, her voice rising with every syllable, clearly annoyed at Indy’s lack of reaction, “we’ve been training here every day for four years, using this exact court, and then one day, someone else plants her prissy, overrated, no-talent ass in it like she owns it.”
“It’s just rude.”
“So rude.”
“Look,” Indy said, sliding to a halt and whipping around, hoping to cut their little show short. They were standing at the baseline of the court, just a few feet behind her, hands on their hips looking ready for a fight. “I don’t have time for this crap. It’s a court, not your friggin’ house. Get over it.”
Addison huffed, but Lara’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t have any idea who you’re dealing with, so you should just get your things and get out of here. Maybe go back to California while you’re at it.”
“And who exactly is going to make me?” Indy said, taking a step closer.
A stony silence was the only reply she got.
“That’s what I thought,” Indy said, turning back to her cones.
“It’s not like you have any chance, anyway. I’m going to destroy you in the first round, bitch,” Lara muttered.
“Is there a problem here ladies?” a voice called from the gate, getting closer with every word.
Indy whirled around again and stared at the guy the voice belonged to. She hadn’t even seen him approach, but he was easily the best-looking guy she’d ever set eyes upon. Tall, dark and handsome didn’t even begin to cover it, but it was a good start. He was built, not super skinny like some really tall guys tended to be, dressed in jeans and a crimson T-shirt with Harvard Tennis emblazoned across his chest—his very broad, very firm-looking chest, from what she could tell.
“Yeah, there’s a problem,” Lara spat out, flinging a hand out at Indy. “She’s using our practice court, Jack.”
His name was Jack, but…Jack what? He looked sort of familiar and as Indy tried to place his face he said, “Last time I checked there were over forty courts around here, girls. Why don’t you g
o claim another one as your own before I bring Dom down here and tell him about this misunderstanding.”
Lara’s jaw dropped and it looked like she was about to say something else, but Jack crossed his arms over his chest, stretching his T-shirt over the muscle there, making Indy swallow hard. He was just too friggin’ hot for words.
The other girls let out twin, long-suffering sighs and when Jack raised his eyebrow, probably daring them to protest, they marched away from the courts entirely, clearly having no intension of doing any practicing at all.
“Thanks,” Indy said, pulling her gaze away from his body and up into his eyes, hopefully, before he noticed her staring. It wasn’t a sacrifice. His eyes were bright green, an interesting shade considering his dark, textured hair and caramel-colored skin.
“No problem,” he said, closing the gap between them with confident strides. “If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s bullies.”
Indy laughed. “I wouldn’t exactly call them bullies. More like annoying little gnats.”
He chuckled softly. “Glad to hear they didn’t do any lasting damage.”
“Nope, still in one piece,” she said, smiling back at him.
“I don’t think we’ve met before. I’m Jack Harrison,” he held out his hand and she took it immediately, hoping hers wasn’t too sweaty. His fingers wrapped completely around hers. It was like holding onto a mug of hot chocolate after coming in from the cold. Jack Harrison. That’s why he looked familiar. He was Penny Harrison’s older brother, agent and quasi-coach. She remembered seeing shots of him in the stands during the Madrid tournament, but her three-inch iPhone screen didn’t do him justice.
“I’m…” She paused, her voice catching in her throat. “I’m Indiana Gaffney.”
His smile widened. “Indiana. I like that.”
Anyone else in the world and she would have corrected him. No one called her Indiana except her dad and it grated on her nerves whenever he did, but the way Jack said it, his voice soft and deep, she wanted to hear him say her name all day long. His hand released hers after a gentle squeeze.
“So, how have I not seen you around here before, Indiana?” He didn’t step away, invading her space in the best way possible.
“Today’s my first day.”
“I didn’t think I could miss someone like you.” She blushed, but he nodded in the direction the terrible twosome had marched off. “And you’ve already made enemies. Impressive.”
She shrugged, not being to help the grin spreading across her face. “They’re just pissed because Dom ranked me ahead of them for the Classic.”
Jack blinked at her and tilted his head in confusion. “The Classic? You’re a junior?”
“Yeah, I mean, I was hoping Dom would think I was good enough, but I was shocked when he ranked me fourth. I’ve only been here a day. It probably wasn’t the best way to make friends, but that’s not really the point of training here, right?”
He took a step back and nodded, but Indy was pretty sure he hadn’t heard a word of what she’d said. Then he spoke, “Well, I should really get going.”
“Oh,” Indy said, her brow furrowing, wondering if she’d said the wrong thing.
“Jack! There you are!”
Teddy Harrison strode toward them, hopping the fence with such ease Indy supposed he did it all the time. The resemblance between the brothers was astounding, though Jack was far more muscular.
“I’ve been waiting forever. You said you just had to…” He trailed off, as his eyes flashed to Indy. “But now it all makes sense. Hi again, New Girl.”
“Teddy,” she said.
“You two know each other?” Jack asked, looking back and forth between them.
“Indy was lost this morning and I was gentleman enough to show her the way.”
“Yeah, after he snuck out of some poor girl’s dorm room.”
A silence hovered over them for a second. Finally Jack nodded, looking at the open gate as Teddy laughed outright at her calling him out.
“So what were you working on out here by yourself?” Teddy stepped into the space Jack had vacated beside her, but his closeness didn’t quite have the same effect.
Indy felt her face flush. “My footwork,” she said, nodding at the cones. “I was trying to…”
Teddy shook his head. “You aren’t going to get anywhere with two cones and no one to watch you, right, Jack?”
“What?” Jack asked and Indy’s eyes shot to the older brother, catching his gaze briefly before he looked away. Had he been looking at her? He’d definitely been looking at her.
“Focus, bro,” Teddy scolded, but his smile was back in full force. “Don’t you know some epic footwork drill we can show Indy?”
Jack shook his head, his mouth opening and then closing again, his shoulders stiffening, like he was preparing for battle. “I’m not sure if…”
Teddy shook his head as he picked up the cones she’d set out and tossed them to the side. “Yeah, you do. The insane one that Penny loves, what are they called?”
Indy felt her calf muscles spasm at the thought of another running drill. “Not Einsteins?”
An unexpected guffaw slipped out of Jack’s throat.
“Do you want to show her or should I?” Teddy asked from the center of the court.
“I got this,” Jack said, his eyes not leaving hers as he waved Teddy away. He stood in the center of the court, balanced on the balls of his feet for one moment and then he was off, a few crossover steps to his left and back, then to his right and back. Indy felt a small grin of satisfaction inch over her lips. She’d been on the right track with her own drills. Then her face fell as Jack’s legs started covering more ground, pivoting at the corners of the service lines, sprinting to the net in diagonals and then back again.
“See, insane right?” Teddy said, from beside her as Jack literally ran circles around them.
He drew to a halt back where he started. “Got it?”
Indy bit her bottom lip and nodded. “I think so.”
“Let’s see it then,” he said, moving out of the way for her.
She took the spot he’d vacated and set herself, but just as she started her crossover step, Jack’s voice rang out. “No, no, stop.”
“What?” she asked, spinning around to face him, hands landing on her hips.
“You’re totally off balance. Come back here,” he said, moving in closer. She complied. “Okay, now stand with your feet a little more than shoulder width apart—I said a little more, Indiana, not like the earth is tearing apart beneath you.” He tapped the outside of her thigh and she jumped, or at least her heart did; she managed to keep her feet on the ground and slide them a little closer to each other.
“Good. Now keep your weight on the balls of your feet, not your toes. It’s all about balance and staying in an athletic position, knees bent slightly, perfect, shoulders over your toes. That’s it,” he said as she followed his instructions. “And now the pièce de résistance, relax your joints. You’re stiff as a board.” His hands landed on her shoulders and the muscles there tightened reflexively. “Relax,” he whispered. With a deep inhale and slow exhale, she tried to do just that, but it was nearly impossible with him standing so close. He must have sensed it because he stepped back and said it again. “Relax, stay loose.”
“Okay,” she said, allowing her shoulders to drop ever so slightly.
“Good. Now try it.” Then he was gone, the warmth hovering behind her giving way to chilly solitude. It was like she was standing on stage all by herself and there was no one to give her a cue. With a deep breath, she began, her feet speeding through the exercise he’d demonstrated. Her stride was smoother, the flow of her feet easier.
“You feel that?” Jack’s voice called out as she pivoted at the edge of the court and raced for the net.
“Yeah,” she shouted back and finished the drill. It was like an Einstein on steroids, but she knew this stupid little drill was exactly what she needed as she prepped for
the Classic.
“Hey, guys, are you ready?” a new voice joined them, one Indy recognized from TV immediately.
“Aw, Pen, you didn’t have to wait for us,” Teddy said as Penny Harrison stepped out onto the court and marched toward her twin brother, who’d been leaning against the net, watching the drill. She was showered and dressed in a mint green sundress dotted with wildflowers. Indy had never really pictured Penny as a sundress kind of person. Then again, she probably didn’t wander around in tennis clothes all day.
“I wasn’t waiting,” Penny said. “You have my car keys and Jack has his, so cough ’em up, Ted.” Her twin reached into his pocket and tossed her a set of keys. Then she turned the green eyes all three Harrison siblings shared to Indy. “Hey.”
Indy’s mouth went dry at finally being noticed. Friggin’ Penny Harrison said hello to her. Praying she didn’t make an idiot out of herself like she did in the morning with Jasmine, she said, “Hi, I’m Indy.”
“Nice to meet you,” Penny said, before looking over her shoulder at Jack who was standing just off to the side still as a mountain and silent.
“Indy’s training for the Classic,” Teddy said. “It’s her first day today and Dom seeded her fourth.”
One perfectly shaped eyebrow lifted and Penny pursed her lips. “So you’re the girl they’re all bitching about in the locker room?” Her eyes narrowed and she stared at Indy more intensely. Indy felt like an insect under the microscope of some scientist who was about to dissect it. The silence dragged on and Indy could practically feel something ridiculous building on the tip of her tongue when Penny said, “Good luck at the Classic.”
A flush spread across her face. Penny Harrison had just wished her luck. So friggin’ awesome. “Thanks.”
With a nod, the other girl spun on her toe and strode off the court, totally ignoring her brothers as she left.
“I better go too,” Indy said. “I’ve got a ton of homework to get done tonight.”
Game. Set. Match. Page 5
