Chapter 19 #2
She made it into the atrium, leaned against the wall, and slid to the floor.
Roy sent her an encouraging smile from his desk and Indy managed a grimace in return, despite how pissed off she was.
This should have been one of the most exciting days of her career.
She was going to Paris tomorrow. She’d be playing on the famous clay courts of Roland-Garros like so many legendary athletes before her.
This wasn’t how she imagined feeling. She should have been ecstatic and nervous and maybe even a little scared, but not annoyed. She let her head fall to her knees.
“Well, this can’t be good.”
Her head shot up at the sound of Jack’s voice. He stood over her in a sweaty T-shirt and shorts, racket in hand.
“Hey,” she said, feeling a flush creep up over her cheeks. The last time they’d spoken she’d thrown caution to the wind and kissed him, and even if it was just for a moment, he’d kissed her back.
“You okay?”
“Peachy.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“No,” she said, resting her head against her knees again, hoping he’d take the hint.
“Okay, then,” Jack mumbled. She raised her head an inch to watch him go and saw his broad back as he moved to the far end of the atrium.
“Wait,” she called out, leaping to her feet and racing to catch up to him. He was part agent, part coach, and regardless of what was—or wasn’t—going on between them, he was probably the best person to ask about the argument most likely still raging out on the practice court.
He stopped without warning outside the door to the men’s locker room and stepped to the side, a move Indy hadn’t anticipated.
It put him right in her path and she crashed into his back.
He whirled around, probably to try to catch her before she fell, but as he did, his elbow collided with the side of her head.
Stars exploded in front of her eyes and a sharp pain began to radiate from the point of impact.
“Shit, Indiana, I’m sorry.”
“I’m okay,” she said, her eyes squeezed shut. She pressed her hand against her temple, only to pull away with a hiss when the ache increased with the pressure. Just what she needed, another blow to the head.
“Come on,” he said, his hands cupping her face. “Open your eyes and look at me.”
His tone was so authoritative that she obeyed without question, meeting his gaze. “Any blurriness?”
“No.” She could see every fleck of green and gold in his eyes and small brown ring around his pupils that she’d never been close enough to truly appreciate before.
“Ringing in your ears? Are you dizzy?”
“Nope,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m okay.”
“Good,” he said, and she could actually see his concern melt away and his mask of indifference fall back into place.
She hated when he did that, when his personality shut down like he was afraid if he was nice to her for more than two seconds she’d try to rip his clothes off or something.
Maybe that was why he always shut down, maybe he didn’t want her and she’d been lying to herself the whole time.
“Tell me what’s got you so upset. I’d like to help, if I can. ”
Indy sighed in defeat, the adrenaline spike fading with his words, so instead of calling him out on it, she explained the power struggle going on between Dom and Caroline on the practice courts.
Jack looked thoughtful for a moment and then said, “That’s an easy fix. Caroline must have Dom really tied up in knots if he didn’t figure it out right away.”
“Yeah?” she asked.
“You accept both invitations and you wait it out. Bari doesn’t get started until the second week in Paris.
You’d have to at least get to the third round of the women’s doubles draw before you’d play your first-round match.
If you have to drop one after that, so be it, but there’s no reason to worry about that until it actually happens, if it actually happens.
Once those two calm down enough to think clearly, they’ll figure it out on their own. No sense in you worrying about it.”
Indy smiled and all the stress of the last few minutes completely disappeared. “I should have hired you to be my agent.”
Jack shrugged, his expression blank again. “I don’t know about that.”
Her smile dropped. “Well, thanks. I’ve gotta get going. I’m sure rumors are flying around here about me dropping doubles by now. I better talk to Jasmine before she has a total breakdown and decides to slap me again.”
Finding Jasmine was a little more complicated than she expected, because she actually had no idea where her doubles partner lived.
She was pretty positive Jasmine had been staying with her parents for a minute after the Classic, but she was equally sure she also had a dorm on OBX’s campus… somewhere.
But Indy knew who to ask, and after a stop in the main atrium, Roy pointed her in the right direction.
It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that Jasmine didn’t live in the standard dorms that housed everyone from the junior players on up, but in one of the outer buildings that were mostly used as vacation rentals for distinguished guests.
The apartment was on the top floor and had its own elevator with one button, PH written on it.
Penthouse, obviously. Only the best for John Randazzo and Lisa Vega’s little girl.
Before she could chicken out, Indy knocked. She heard the telltale sound of footsteps padding toward her and then something brushing against the door.
Then nothing, just silence.
She could picture Jasmine standing on the other side of the door, hesitating.
“I know you’re in there,” Indy called out. “Can we talk, please?”
Another moment and then the lock clicked and Jasmine opened the door—barely—and wedged herself into the space.
She was wearing an old oversized US Open T-shirt and shorts, her feet bare and her damp hair in a bun at the top of her head.
She was blocking Indy’s view inside except for over her head, where there was a wall of windows that faced out over the water.
Indy’s own tiny dorm room definitely didn’t have a view like that.
“What’s up?” Jasmine asked.
“Can I come in? I have to talk to you about something important.”
Jasmine rolled her eyes but stepped back and spun on her heel as Indy followed.
The view was even more impressive now that she could completely take it in.
For the first time since arriving at OBX she considered calling her dad.
The least he could do after inflicting Caroline on her was upgrade her living situation.
“What’s so important you couldn’t tell me in a text?” Jasmine said, arms crossed, lips pursed unhappily, as she propped herself on the back of her couch. No offer to sit down or for something to drink.
Shit.
She already knew.
OBX was the smallest town in the world, and the news about her entry into Bari had clearly already gotten to Jasmine. It wasn’t a huge leap from that information to the idea that Indy would be leaving her in the lurch in Paris.
Indy decided to just say it. “Look, I don’t know what you heard—”
“I heard you’re going to Bari. Congrats.”
“Right, exactly, and I know there are rumors probably flying around right now that I’m dropping doubles, and I came here to tell you that’s not true.”
Jasmine raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “I might have gotten a text or two about it.”
“Well, like I said, it’s not true. I’m going to accept both invitations and then see what happens from there.”
“See what happens?” Jasmine repeated, like she wasn’t sure what it meant.
“Yeah, the way the schedule works, we might be okay.” Indy left out the part about what Jack had said about eventually choosing which to drop if she had to. She didn’t need to borrow trouble just yet.
“So, is that why you came all the way over here?”
“Yeah, and well, I wanted to, I guess apologize. All those things you said the day we fought, I’m sorry I made you feel that way. I didn’t mean to.”
Jasmine sat still for a second and then nodded. “I guess I knew that, at least now I do. I was looking for someone to blame for, well, for everything. This year isn’t exactly going how I imagined, so I took it out on you.”
“You’re sorry for smacking me?” Indy asked.
“No, you deserved that,” she said flatly, but a glinting mischief lit in her eyes.
Despite herself, Indy smiled. “Maybe I did, a little. Look, I think Dom’s onto something here with this doubles thing.”
Jasmine tilted her head. “I think so, too.”
“If we can get our act together during your service games, I think we’ll be fine,” Indy said, hoping the joke didn’t cross a line and ruin this extremely newfound peace.
Jasmine smirked, but there was obvious laughter in her eyes. “Excuse me? The problem isn’t my serve. The problem is your net game.”
“Right,” Indy agreed, and then bantered back lightly, “because I’m supposed to be able to cover the entire court when you serve up a meatball.”
“I know it might be a foreign concept to you with that serve,” Jasmine laughed softly, “but sometimes you do have to hit more than one shot to win a point.”
“Didn’t have a problem doing that against you during the Classic, did I?” She saw the hurt flash in Jasmine’s eyes and Indy cringed. That line she wasn’t supposed to cross. It was behind her. “Shit, I’m sorry.”
Jasmine shook her head, her eyes suddenly looking very tired. “Forget it. Are we still playing doubles or was this all a ploy to get me to drop out so you could focus on Bari without Dom having a shit fit?”
“What? Of course I’m playing doubles. I just told you that.”
“Good, then if you don’t mind, I have some packing to finish up before we leave.”
Jasmine silently led her to the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said.
“Yeah, tomorrow,” Indy said, but the door was already closed behind her.