Chapter 2
Chapter Two
SAM
I’d probably hit the ball with more intent than I needed to.
If it wasn’t for the fact that, as I was walking back to my chair before the last changeover, I’d heard my coach, and dad, Albie, say just loud enough for the microphone to pick up that I was a bit sloppy, I wouldn’t have felt the need to try to prove a point while I was closing out the set.
Wrapping up a first set in twenty minutes couldn’t exactly be called sloppy.
So I’d smashed the ball down and watched it arc up into the stands.
Generally, when a ball ends up heading into the crowd, there’s a scramble to catch it.
This time, however, I watched it knock a coffee cup out of its holder’s hands, painting the person with its contents.
Brown bloomed over white.
The woman sitting next to my accidental victim was looking at the scene with her mouth slightly parted, her hands flapping about like they were trying to be useful but weren’t sure where to start.
I stood at the net, waiting to check that the person staring down at her now-stained clothing was okay. Beyond the brown stains ruining her all-white look.
When she tipped her head up, even though she was wearing sunglasses, I could tell the moment her eyes locked with mine.
My world tilted on its axis. Not the best timing, seeing as I was in the middle of a match, but when do these things ever happen at the opportune moment?
Of course, the person I had nearly taken out with a smashed ball was one of the reasons I played tennis.
Naomi Sullivan.