Game. Set. Match.

by Jennifer Iacopelli

  Switching off the bathroom light, she climbed into bed. On her nightstand her phone lit up, vibrating and playing Teddy’s ringtone. Jasmine took a deep breath, exhaled and answered the call. “You’ll never guess what happened.”

  ***

  “Good job, ladies!” Dom called from the sidelines as they finished up their workout with a set of Einstein sprints that made the other players on the practice courts stare in horror.

  Jasmine slowed to a halt and held her hand up for Indy, who slapped it, hard. “Nice,” she said and meant it. Indy looked fabulous during their practice session. Her conditioning level was finally catching up to Jasmine’s, and they’d torn up the court for the two hours Dom had reserved it. Their sneakers and the lower halves of their legs were covered in red clay, but their faces were both lit up with smiles. Jasmine finally understood what Teddy meant about Dom being a genius. She felt it every time Indy served a bullet up the center of the court, or she got to a ball Indy couldn’t quite reach. They had a real chance to open some eyes if what they brought at practice translated into their first-round match the next day.

  “Ladies, I’ve got to get to Penny’s match. Cool down, shower and then meet me there if you want.”

  They took his advice, and an hour later, both freshly showered and dressed in their OBX T-shirts, the closest thing they had to a uniform, they made it to the player’s box just in time for the start of Penny’s match. Jack’s seat was on the aisle with Dom next to him and Alex the farthest down the row. She and Indy settled into the seats behind them.

  It was as big a mismatch as Jasmine had ever seen: Penny Harrison, who defeated the number one player in the world in her last tournament, against some random French qualifier. The first couple of rounds at a Grand Slam tended to be like that. The highest-ranked athletes usually drew players who came through the qualifying rounds and spent most of the tennis season on the Challenger Circuit and not on the main tour.

  Pulling her phone from her bag, Jasmine held it up to snap a picture of the court, where Penny and her opponent were warming up. Adding a quick caption—Courtside at Roland Garros for Penny’s match!—she sent it out into cyberspace.

  A minute later, her phone vibrated and a message popped up from Teddy: Updates please!

  Don’t you have twin ESP? You tell me how it’s going to go.

  Maybe I just want to talk to you.

  Talked to you last night.

  Too long ago. Call me tonight?

  The chair umpire climbed up into his seat and said, “Play.”

  “Here we go,” Indy said.

  Penny got off to a blazing start, and after fifteen minutes of dominating play, she was just a point away from winning the first set. Her opponent looked exhausted and beaten, sitting in her chair, staring out into space.

  Finally, during the break between sets, as everyone else stood to stretch their legs, Jasmine looked at the screen. Teddy had sent five messages, the last a picture of him sitting in the OBX library, crossing his eyes with one of the on-campus teachers glaring at him in the background. Laughing, Jasmine sent a message back: Nice face. Penny’s up a set.

  “What’s funny?” Indy asked, sitting down beside her.

  “Nothing.”

  Indy narrowed her eyes and focused on her phone. “Who are you texting?”

  “Did anyone ever tell you that you ask too many questions?”

  “Did anyone ever tell you that you have the worst poker face ever? You’re texting Teddy, aren’t you?” Indy plucked the phone from her hand.

  “So what?” Jasmine said, stealing it back.

  “So he’s never going to appreciate you if you’re always at his beck and call.”

  Jasmine shut the phone completely off and tossed it into her bag, then crossed her arms over her chest. “He’s my friend. It’s not like I’m never going to talk to him again.”

  “You shouldn’t. Maybe if you cut him off it’ll make him miss you.”

  “That’s worked before.”

  “Wait, you’ve tried that?”

  “Yeah and it worked. He missed me.”

  “But as what? His friend? You’re never going to get over him if you guys stay friends. You should just end it now and stop torturing yourself.”

  Jasmine rolled her eyes and then flicked them up at Jack, standing in the aisle and talking to a rep from one of Penny’s sponsors—Nike, if the Swoosh logo on his shirt was anything to go by.

  “Maybe you should take your own advice.”

  Indy’s shoulders deflated a little. “Maybe I should.”

  Chapter 19

  May 28th

  The players’ lounge was packed. Indy figured that made sense since it was only the second day of the tournament and almost no one had been eliminated yet. She took in the sight of players and their coaches discussing match strategy, some friends and family hovering in the background. Jasmine sat next to her, flipping through a magazine like she didn’t have a care in the world, even though their first match was minutes away.

  Sitting back, leg bouncing, her eyes darted around the room. She was a nervous wreck and the crowd wasn’t helping. She hated this. Just like at the Classic, she felt fine until right before a match and then the jitters started. Except now there was no hope of stepping out onto the court against a weaker opponent. She was at the friggin’ French Open and they were playing Zina Lutrova and Ekaterina Grishina. Though the two Russians hadn’t played together before, they were training for Fed Cup doubles and were using this tournament as a practice run.

  Jasmine glared at her and then glanced down at her knee. Indy muttered an apology and stilled the constant, nauseating motion. She squirmed in her seat, bringing her thumb to her mouth to chew on her fingernail.

  “Ladies, good news,” Dom said, throwing himself down in a chair across from them. “You two have a walkover.”

  “You’re kidding.” Jasmine said.

  “Nope,” he said, passing her an updated copy of the draw. “Lutrova withdrew from doubles. She wants to focus on singles. No match today.”

  “So, we won?” Indy asked.

  “That’s one way of looking at it, I guess. Next match is scheduled for the day after tomorrow. You’ve got a real opportunity here. Let’s not let it go to waste. I reserved a few hours on a practice court so you can get some work in and stay fresh, but congrats, you’re through to the second round.” He stood and left, moving to the buffet.

  “Wow, that was easy,” Indy said, grinning, her nerves gone now that they didn’t actually have to play.

  “Not really. Did you see who our potential next round match would be?”

  “No, I didn’t look at the draw.”

  “Why wouldn’t you look at the draw?”

  “I thought you weren’t supposed to. You know, like whenever anyone in an interview is asked if they know who they’re playing next, they always say they have no idea. I figured it was bad luck or something.”

  “They’re lying when they say that. Everyone looks at the draw.”

  “So….” Indy trailed off.

  “So what?”

  “Who are we playing?”

  “Oh, right, sorry.” Jasmine glanced down at the page Dom gave her and pointed out their likely opponents’ next match. “The Kapur sisters, Pallavi and Ananya.”

  “Shit.”

  “Exactly.”

  The Kapur twins were one of the top doubles teams in the world and the number one seed for this tournament. They’d both given up playing on the singles circuit a few years ago and since then won dozens of tournaments, most notably, the Australian Open. Facing them in their first match together would be like deciding to run a marathon after a couple of hours of jogging on the treadmill.

  “We are so screwed,” Indy said.

  “We could go watch them play. They’re scheduled for right now.”

  “Why not?”

  They made their way to one of the outer courts where the Kapur sisters were scheduled to play a wild-card team di
rectly across from where their own match had been scheduled. The crowd was sparse and they found a spot along the chain link fence surrounding the court. There were stands on the other side, but the view was better against the fence.

  “Indiana.”

  Indy turned her head, and her jaw dropped. Standing just a few feet away was a tall man dressed in khaki pants and a crisp, light blue Lacoste polo. His dark blond hair, beginning to gray at the temples, was cropped close. Caroline was beside him, hanging on his arm, her wide brimmed hat and sunglasses hiding her identity from passersby.

  “Who’s that with Caroline?” Jasmine asked.

  “That’s my dad.”

  “Your dad, but I thought...”

  “So did I.” Indy pushed off the fence and crossed the pathway between them. “Hi,” she said, making sure to put a question in her tone as they both hugged her.

  “I called your father,” Caroline said, bussing each of her cheeks.

  “Obviously.”

  Her dad had the gall to smile. “I hadn’t realized things had progressed this quickly.”

  “So now that I’m playing in a Grand Slam I’m worthy of your attention?”

  “Indiana!” Caroline scolded through a gasp.

  “You should’ve asked me before you called him,” Indy said, glaring at her agent.

  “It is done,” Caroline said with a dismissive shrug. “Now why are you not preparing for your match?”

  “Jasmine and I got a walkover into the second round.”

  “Ah,” her dad said, looking at Caroline. “Well, if there’s no match, I should go back to the hotel and call into the office.”

  “Good,” Indy said, trying to stifle the hurt. Of course he didn’t want to spend any actual time with her, not that she wanted to either, but she would have liked the option of turning him down flat. “My next match is the day after tomorrow. Come if you want, whatever. I don’t care.”

  She stomped away, catching Jasmine’s eye as she walked by her. Pushing her way through the teams of spectators exploring the outer courts, she circled back toward the player’s exit where she ran into Jack, her face almost colliding against the Nike swoosh logo on his black T-shirt.

  “Indy?” he said, as she pushed past him. “Indiana, wait.”

  She whirled around and snapped, “What?”

  His eyebrows shot up. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, trying to step around him again. People around them in the busy hallway, athletes, coaches and staff alike, were staring at them. Most of them probably had no idea who she was, but they definitely knew Jack.

  “You’re not fine,” he said, leading her away from the crowd and down a separate, empty hallway. “What’s the matter? Maybe I can help.”

  Indy ran a hand through her hair. “My dad is here.”

  Jack studied her carefully, before opening his mouth to speak. She liked that about him. He always thought before he spoke. “And that’s bad?”

  “Of course it’s bad. He’s only here because…because…”

  “He’s your dad. He’s here because he wants to support you.”

  She twisted her mouth into a pout and shook her head. Jack didn’t get it. She hadn’t met his parents, but she knew the Harrisons were a happy family.

  “He’s here because I’m interesting now. I’m doing something worthy of his attention, so he showed up.”

  “Indiana…” he said, sighing heavily, his eyes softening…pitying.

  She felt something break inside of her. Pity was the last thing she wanted him to feel for her. “Don’t. My dad is an asshole. He’s always been like that, but I just don’t need you to feel sorry for me, okay?”

  “I don’t feel sorry for you.”

  “I…” She trailed off. “What?”

  “I could never pity you, Indiana. I kind of want to go shake him for not realizing what an amazing daughter he has, but I don’t feel sorry for you.”

  Her heart fluttered. “You think I’m amazing?”

  Jack ran a shaky hand across the back of his neck. “You know I do.”

  He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. His hand didn’t fall away, but hovered over her cheek. He blinked down at her, hesitating for a moment before his hand descended, large and warm against her skin. Breathing in deeply, she leaned into the touch.

  “Indiana, I…” He trailed off, finally bending his head to hers.

  Since the day they met, she imagined kissing Jack more than she’d ever admit, but every daydream and fantasy she’d had didn’t live up to the reality of having his lips pressed against hers. The electricity that accompanied their almost kiss a few weeks ago was like a tiny little sparkler compared to the fireworks exploding behind her eyes as his tongue gently pressed against her lips, deepening the kiss. His hands held firmly at her hips, his fingers flexing with every stroke of his tongue, pulling her closer. Then she felt him tense, and in the next second, he was gone, putting several feet between them, staring at her wide-eyed.

  “I’m…”

  “Don’t apologize.”

  “I wasn’t going to.”

  “Of course you were,” she said, shaking her head, “because that’s the kind of guy you are. Just like how you always show up whenever I need rescuing. I know you feel something for me, but you’re just too damn good to do anything about it.”

  “I’m too good?”

  Indy felt her anger building as she stepped closer to him. “If any other man were standing in front of me right now, he wouldn’t be apologizing.”

  Jack’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m six years older than you. Don’t you think I’d rather just take what I want and damn the consequences? But I can’t do that. That’s not the kind of man I am.”

  “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

  “Then what the hell do you want from me?” he snapped, throwing up his hands in the air.

  “I want you to stop being a coward.”

  The words were liberating. She’d been holding them in since the moment she first saw him and now he knew the truth, even if he’d never act on it—at least not again. The seconds ticked away and the longer he was silent, the clearer it was that he wasn’t going to respond, but Indy wasn’t finished. After that kiss, she was done pretending.

  “If you don’t feel the same way,” she said, taking one step and then another toward him, until her body was nearly flush against his, “if you don’t want me, that’s okay. But if you want this as much as I do, well you know where to find me.”

  With her last words, she pushed up onto her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss against his cheek, inflicting the same sweet torture he’d put her through back when they first met. Then she turned on her toe and walked away.

  Chapter 20

  May 29th

  The sound of rain against her windows drew Penny from her sleep. Her eyes fluttered open; the room was still dark, a product of the overcast skies outside. She let her eyes drift closed and that's when she noticed it: a weight, heavy and warm against her stomach, an arm curving protectively around her body, two fingers tucked slightly into the waistband of her pajama shorts. She could hear his soft, even breathing on the pillow next to hers. She recognized the deep, slow rhythm. Alex was next to her and he was sound asleep.

  She carefully rolled over. His arm remained around her, instinctively pulling her closer. He was practically radiating heat and she snuggled into it, pressing her lips to his shoulder. Penny closed her eyes again and let sleep slowly overtake her.

  She woke later, sleepier than when she'd roused the first time, the rain still pelting her windowpanes. Alex was awake now, still holding her close, his eyes focused on her.

  "Hey," he whispered, nudging his nose against hers.

  "Hi," she breathed, their lips brushing together softly. "This is nice."

  He nodded in agreement. "Mmm, more than nice. If I could wake up like this for the rest of my life, I'd die a happy man."

  She tuc
ked her head into the crook of his shoulder. "I think that can be arranged. I sleep better when you're here," she said, her fingers absentmindedly drawing patterns against the skin of his bicep.

  They lay there for a few more moments. “I have to get up.”

  He groaned. “No you don’t. You have to stay right here.”

  “I have to get up,” she said again. “Dom booked a practice court for ten. I have to take a shower.” A wicked grin spread across his face at the idea. “By myself. I need to get my head in the right space for my match tonight.”

  “It’s raining. They’re going to cancel your match,” he argued against the skin of her neck, his hands already finding purchase against her hips, pressing her down into the mattress. Alex had dispatched his first round opponent in straight sets the night before, his knee not giving him any trouble at all, and his second round match wasn’t until the next day. He’d earned a morning of rest, but Penny definitely had work to do that day.

  “It’s just drizzling and regardless, I have to prepare like I’m going to play,” she said, despite wanting to agree with him in the worst way.

  “Fine,” he said, releasing her and burying his head beneath a pillow when she turned on a light.

  “Drama queen,” she muttered as she dug through her suitcase, pulling out the practice clothes Nike sent for this tournament.

  Stepping under the hot spray of water, she let it soak her hair, and her mind drifted to the tournament draw. Her opponent was Patricia Smyth, a veteran with a decent all-around game. They’d played once before, earlier in the season at Indian Wells. 6-3, 6-1, in an easy victory. There was nothing to be concerned about. What else did she know about Patricia? She was English, like Alex, which wasn’t exactly information that would help her during the match.

  She had to stop relating every single thing to him. She promised Indy she wouldn’t become one of those stupid girls whose life revolved around a guy.

  The water started to grow cool and she countered it by pushing the hot handle a little farther down. Every muscle in her body sang with relief as tension she hadn’t realized was there slipped out through her pores. Letting her chin fall to her chest, she closed her eyes and exhaled heavily. Her mind drifted, imagining Alex’s broad chest pressing up against her back, his hands exploring her skin, his lips trailing down her neck, over her shoulder…then she was jolted from her daydream by a buzzing against the vanity table just outside of the shower.