Chapter 6
SEVEN OH-ONE
A sudden urge to go into his room and look around, to figure him out, takes over me. But I ignore it and head to the kitchen instead to make my protein smoothie.
Robbie’s probably still asleep, and I have no idea where Henry is. He doesn’t seem to be in the apartment.
The balcony is empty, so I take my smoothie outside and sit on one of the chairs, savoring a brief moment of peace before the week begins.
The city is lovely at this time of day when it’s starting to wake up. I enjoy the quiet, if you can call it that. There’s always a police or ambulance siren blaring somewhere in the distance.
Whenever I leave the city, everything feels hollow, like a vacuum—too silent. One learns to live with the bustle.
After finishing my smoothie and setting the tumbler on the side table, Liam comes to mind. I could call him after practice and apologize, but waiting for things to cool off might be the smart thing to do. It wouldn’t hurt him to miss me a little.
Please miss me …
I’m such an idiot.
It’s always awful when we fight. Dad says Liam makes me lose focus, and he’s not entirely wrong. It’s even worse when Liam leaves upset, like he did last night. I can’t think straight, wondering if that was the last time we’ll ever talk or if he’s thinking of me the way I am of him.
Robbie’s awake now, and his presence pulls me out of my thoughts.
“Morning,” he says, head poking out the glass door.
“Good morning.”
“Where’s Henry?”
I shrug, clueless, just as he is.
“Can you drop me off at school on your way to Flushing Meadows?” He grins.
“On our way?” I say, standing up and heading back inside to get ready. “Tandon’s not on our way to Flushing Meadows. We always take the tunnel.”
“Oh, come on. You never train this early. You usually start at eight, and I need to be there earlier today.”
Well, yeah, but my new coach said 7:00 a.m., and I won’t chicken out.
Our driver, Tony, is from Colombia and has worked for our family since Robbie and I were kids.
My dad usually hires Latin employees to support the community in any way he can.
But ever since Robbie started at NYU, Dad told him he’d need to manage without Tony.
He said he didn’t grow up with a driver and is still alive despite that.
That means Robbie usually takes the subway to Brooklyn. And I say usually because whenever he’s running late, he’ll hail a cab and charge it to my dad’s credit card, which, if you ask me, is totally cheating.
“Fine,” I grumble. Robbie thanks me with a big smile, fixing himself a coffee on the Nespresso machine. “But we’re leaving at seven sharp. So if you’re not down there by then, you’ll stay behind. I’m not waiting for you to get your hair done for nerd school.”
“I’m gonna let that slide because you’re dropping me off at school,” he says, waiting for his coffee to fill the cup. “But you and your thousand little tennis skirts, mini shorts, sunglasses, and perfectly pulled-back ponytails aren’t exactly low on the vanity scale either.”
He’s got me on that one. I am a freak about my tennis sets, and since I get plenty from Adidas, I don’t repeat outfits often. Still, I have a few favorite pieces I like to wear over and over.
“See you downstairs.” Robbie grabs his cup, gives his coffee a sip, and escapes to his room.
Robbie’s what I like to call a fashionable nerd. He cares way too much about his looks, even if he pretends not to. He’s perfected the formula for looking casual but put-together at the same time. His black-framed glasses accentuate his blue eyes, and I always envied them growing up.
When I was a kid, all I wanted was to look like my mother, until one day, I woke up relieved that I wasn’t like her in any way.
For so long, I thought being a blue-eyed blonde was what I needed to gain her approval.
But Henry always said that wasn’t the issue.
That I didn’t need to change anything to belong. Back then, I didn’t believe him.
Now I’m not sure I ever told him he was right.
Speaking of Henry … I woke up worried sick about him, and I can’t let another day go by without telling him how sorry I am about his father’s passing.
It’s 6:50 a.m., but I’m almost ready. I’m wearing my favorite purple biker shorts, a white tank top, and a white hoodie—all Adidas. My hair is slicked back into a ponytail, with a white headband added for a finishing touch.
Frowning, I gather my gear and racket bag, reminding myself to grab a brand-new Neel Ultex racket from the stock I keep in my storage closet. I still can’t shake the bitterness of being dropped by them. Drew is working hard to get me a new sponsorship deal with any top brand willing to offer one.
After filling a big tumbler with water, I head downstairs, not bothering to check if Robbie is still in the apartment.
I don’t want to give Henry the chance to call me out for being late.
To my surprise, he’s already there. Henry, Robbie, and Tony are standing past the building’s entrance, talking and laughing. Their conversation eases as I approach.
“Seven oh-one.” Robbie smirks, pulling open the white SUV’s door. He hops into the passenger seat and says, “We were about to leave without you.”
“Bájale, o te vas en taxi.”1
Robbie shuts the door with a laugh while Tony shakes his head, smiling as he opens the door for me.
“Buenos días, mi nina.”2
“Buenos días, Tony.”3
I glance at Henry, and he’s looking back at me, his thick brows bunched together.
He’s wearing black training shorts, an olive-green hoodie with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a backward black New York Yankees cap.
A couple of sweat beads roll down his temples, and his cheeks are flushed, like he’s just back from a run.
“Morning,” I say.
“Morning, Bells,” he replies, giving me a slight jerk of his chin. He takes my bag and gestures for me to get in the car. When he sits beside me, I realize I’ve never been more nervous in my life.
1 Turn it down a few notches, or you’re taking a taxi.
2 Good morning, my girl.
3 Good morning, Tony.