48
Jesse was bossy on the tennis court, which delighted her. After his downcast attitude the night before it was great to see him so invested in the game.
On top of being seasoned players, Harry and Heidi were laid-back, forgiving and communicative with one another, and won the first set with apparent ease.
“It’s fine,” Jesse told her in an undertone. “We have our bearings now. Second set is ours.”
He looked great—tall and swarthy and fit, and she loved that their outfits were matchy-matchy. She just hoped Jesse wasn’t too distracted to notice how adorable they looked together.
“Are you listening, Clara?”
“Sort of,” she said honestly. “We should take a selfie.”
“Please focus,” he begged her. “I’d like to win at least one set today.”
“Really? I thought we were just having fun.”
He frowned at her.
“I’m kidding, Jesse. Do you want me to play like Hart, all cut-throat and annoying? I warn you—it’s not cute.”
“How could it not be? You have a ponytail with a big bow in it.”
She grinned. “Aside from that.”
He hesitated, but greed got the best of him. “All right, do it.”
She saluted him with her tennis racket. “Say less, papi .”
He muttered something she couldn’t hear under his breath, and returned to his position.
“Ready?” Harry called.
“Ready,” Jesse answered.
They won the second set. Clara was panting when they took a water break, and felt like she’d just spent way too long lunging from one side of the court to the other as fast as she could. “I’m out of shape,” she complained, arching her lower back. “This was a bad idea.”
“I think we can actually win this,” he said, handing her a bottle. “You know, I should play with Hart sometime. I like his style.”
“Wow. That’s the thanks I get for busting my butt—”
“Stop whining,” he interrupted. “You’re pulling your weight for once in your life. Big deal.”
She glared at him. “If we win, we take a selfie.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Yeah, okay,” she mocked him, going back onto the court.
The third and final set was very exciting. Harry and Heidi were hustling now, no longer confident of their win, and Clara felt that she and Jesse had hit their stride as partners.
“Get it, Clara!” he called urgently, as Harry sent the ball sailing over the net. It bounced several yards away from her, and she dove after it, just managing to whack it before her momentum sent her sprawling on the clay.
Only, she didn’t wipe out—at the last second, her partner, who had been racing towards her, grabbed her arm and yanked her upright, and he crashed to the ground instead. Then she tripped on his legs and fell on top of him.
Jesse groaned painfully.
She stared down at him in surprise for a millisecond, and then she heard Heidi hit the ball, and she launched herself up off Jesse’s chest (eliciting an “Oof!”), grabbed his racket because hers had slid out of reach, and ran to meet the ball again. She hit it with all her remaining energy, at such an angle that Harry could not get to it, and that was the match point.
“Game, set, match,” Heidi said cheerfully. “Nice work, y’all!”
Clara was making her way back to her partner, and she laughed ruefully as she looked down at him. “Knocked the wind out of you, huh?”
“Yeah,” he gasped, gripping his sore rib and rolling onto his side.
“You keep shoving me around, and I’m getting really tired of it,” she scolded. “First at the Love Fest, and now this! You need to learn to mind your own business.” She dropped to her knees beside him, rolled him onto his back again and kissed him all over his face.
“Stop,” he protested weakly.
“I will, when you stop saving my life, you big jerk.”
“Well, congrats,” Harry said, reaching them. “You saved the damsel, and the damsel saved the game.”
“Was that the match?” Jesse asked breathlessly.
“That was the match. Hit your head?”
“No,” he managed. “Just—winded. Need a minute.”
Harry and Heidi smiled at them and went to get water, and Clara gave Jesse several more noisy kisses on his cheeks and forehead, more than a little conscious of his hand resting on her hip. Then their eyes met, and she knew they were both thinking of the time on the moonlit porch. If they weren’t lying on a tennis court in broad daylight, she would have been tempted to lay one right on his mouth as a sort of homage to the original.
Instead she smoothed his hair back from his face. “Thanks for catching me.”
“You’re welcome,” he sighed.
“I think I was about to break my whole face.”
“Probably just your arms and legs,” he said humbly.
“You’re a prince among men,” she informed him, and kissed his cheek one last time. She looked up in surprise when she heard a shutter sound, and saw that he was holding his phone above them, front camera on. “The selfie! That’s right, we won the match.”
“Deal’s a deal. Now, help me up, Serena.”
She laughed as she stood and grabbed his outstretched hand. “Do you have time to get lunch?”
“No, I gotta get to work,” he gritted out, as he made it to his feet.
“Rain check?” she asked hopefully.
“Yeah,” he said, giving her ponytail a little tug. “Rain check.”