Chapter 6
ELIAS
Eyes on the prize, son.
I hear my father’s voice in my head, reminding me to stay focused.
Remember the point of why I’m here. But if Ben isn’t distracted by all this stupid date stuff and stressing about not hurting Nate’s feelings, then maybe that will help us play better together?
It could also be a great way to monopolize his time.
Talk tactics during ‘dates.’ I could even invite him over to the dorm and get him to watch footage of our competitors together.
I’m sure no one would bother us if they thought I had my boyfriend in there. Sock-on-the-door policy and all that.
Plus, Ben’s face was cute when I hit him with the suggestion. He looked like he was about to have a stroke.
I check my phone constantly when I get home, waiting for Ben’s answer. Telling myself it doesn’t matter either way. But when he doesn’t text, I can’t deny I’m disappointed.
The next morning, my alarm wakes me and for a moment, I forget all about my offer to Ben. But then I look at my phone.
Want me to pick you up?
My stomach does some weird swoopy thing. I must be hungry.
Should I let him pick me up? It would be quicker and easier than getting the bus.
Sure, I’ll send you the address.
I shoot the address over before jumping into the shower and grabbing something to eat. Twenty minutes later, Ben is texting that he’s outside. My roommates are still asleep as I head out with my racket bag, dressed in my most comfortable joggers and sweatshirt for the journey to Yale.
As expected, Ben drives a nice car, though not the flashy SUV I had been expecting. It’s a BMW hatchback in a subtle silver. I give him bonus points for the German brand.
He glances shyly at me as I close the door to the building before quickly glancing away. I feel the smile tug at my lips. That swoopy feeling in my stomach again.
“Hey,” I say, climbing into the passenger seat.
Ben tries to say hi back but his throat doesn’t seem to be working yet. He clears it before trying again, a blush spreading up his neck.
“You didn’t travel with the other frat boys?”
His eyes widen. “I told you, we don’t call each other ‘frat boys.’”
“Oh yeah, that’s right. You call each other brothers.”
Ben nods.
“That sounds like a cult. I’m not calling you that.”
“You don’t have to,” he mumbles, turning on his blinker and checking his blind spot.
He takes the same meticulous care in driving as he does playing tennis. I like that and it helps me relax.
“So, what are we going to tell Nate?”
“About what?”
“About the dating thing.”
“Oh.” The blush makes it all the way to his face. He takes one hand off the wheel to rub the back of his neck. I watch the road intensely for anything that might sabotage his driving until he puts both hands back on the wheel. I let out a breath.
“I think I’ll just go on a date with this Tom guy.”
My stomach drops. “What?”
He shrugs. “What’s the worst that could happen? And anyway, I probably need a little practice if I’m going to date. I’m a senior, for Pete’s sake.”
He’s never dated? And ‘for Pete’s sake?’ Holy fuck, he’s such a nerd.
“I suppose it is just a date,” I say.
“Exactly. And if it’s terrible, then lesson learned, right?”
His eyes meet mine in the mirror. All that fake cheerfulness shucking away to reveal the fear behind it.
“You have nothing to be worried about,” I say.
He forces a laugh. “I know that.” He takes the turn into the tennis center’s car park. “Anyway, who knows? This guy could end up being great.”
Something bubbles in my gut. Why don’t I like the sound of that? It’s none of my business who Ben dates. Maybe if he’s in love, he’ll be less competition for me in the future on the court? Just so long as he stays undistracted for our doubles match, he can do whatever he likes.
I should just stay quiet, but that would be too easy. “So, I’m guessing you don’t need to pretend to be dating me now.”
There he goes again, looking like he just swallowed his own tongue.
“Thanks for the offer, but … I don’t think Nate would believe it anyway.”
“What do you mean?” I frown. “Nate knows I’m gay.”
Those attractive blotches spread across his cheeks. Something gnaws at me until I’m forced to look away.
“I know. It’s just that … you’re out of my league.”
My heart soars. I push it down, try to remain professional. “Ben, you’re very attractive. Of course I’m not out of your league.”
I do him the kindness of not looking at him after I say this, before adding, “But thank you for the compliment.”
I hear him swallow. He clears his throat.
When I dare a glance in his direction his hands have tightened on the steering wheel.
I get a sudden flash of Mama’s hands on the steering wheel of the old Volkswagen, the vinyl worn from use.
Her smiling face in the rear-view mirror.
Sandy curls bobbing in the breeze with the window down while she sings along to the radio.
“Everything okay?”
“What?”
“You went somewhere, just then. Are you worried about the match?”
“Oh … I was just thinking … tactics.”
“Well….” Ben offers me a kind smile. “We could talk about them now if you want.”
The rest of the team are waiting outside the center when we arrive. Ben finds a parking space and we haul our bags out to meet them.
“You two travelled together?” Nate asks.
He doesn’t look happy about it. Is it wrong that I wish Ben had agreed to fake dating me? I’d like to see the look on Nate’s face.
Before anyone can say more, Coach Sanchez pulls up in a sensible sedan and he and Assistant Coach Rodriguez climb out with their bags.
The bus arrives shortly after. We all climb on, Ben looking uncertain as to who he should sit next to.
“You can sit with Nate if you want,” I say, letting him off the hook.
Nate’s shuffling down the aisle behind him. He pauses and assesses us critically before painting on a fake smile. “No, sit with Elias. You guys can … talk tactics.”
Ben takes the seat next to mine and immediately falls into some sort of weird mannequin state, barely blinking. I’m about to ask if he’s okay when Coach Sanchez starts speaking again. I listen to the inspirational speech and as soon as he’s finished, try to relax.
“If you need more leg room….” Ben gestures to the way my legs are squashed up against the seats in front.
“Don’t worry, I’m used to it. Lack of leg room is the price you pay for height advantage on the court.”
Ben clears his throat. “How tall are you, by the way?”
“1.96 meters—six foot five.”
He nods.
“I’ve been almost this height since I was sixteen.”
“That must have made you stand out at school.”
I make a noncommittal noise. “Didn’t help on the football field though.”
“Football? Oh, you mean soccer.”
I groan. “No, it’s called football, not ‘soccer.’”
“No, football is the thing with the weird-shaped ball and all those guys in shoulder pads and helmets.”
“English ‘football’ was invented first. That’s why we just call it football and whatever you’re talking about American football.”
He squints at me and I grin.
At some point, he falls asleep and starts snoring between mumbling to himself about something. Maybe my English is off, but it sounds like he’s asking where his intestines are. After a while, Archer throws a pair of balled-up socks at him and he wakes up.
“Sorry,” he says, rubbing his eyes.
“For what?”
“I snore.”
“So?” I shrug. “Snoring doesn’t bother me. I shared a room with my older brother for years and he snores like a train. His fiancée must be a saint. Or an extremely heavy sleeper.”
We finally arrive at Yale. My stomach is in knots.
I tell myself we just need to make it through this first match without embarrassing ourselves.
With a few extra practice sessions, we should improve enough to be able to truly compete.
Top singles players with little to no doubles experience do it all the time. Why can’t I?
I get a call just as I’m getting off the bus. When I see Noah’s name on the screen, I think about ignoring it. But I change my mind at the last second and pick up. Ben glances over, but unless he can speak German, he won’t understand what I’m saying.
“Hey, what’s up? How’s the Ivy League treating you?”
My brother’s voice and the familiar language makes me smile and I forget about anything else for a second.
“It’s good. Lots of trees.”
“That’s good. You know, we don’t have trees back home.”
“Exactly.”
He laughs.
“I’m just about to play a match against Yale, actually.”
“Yale? Wow! I still can’t believe you’re a student at fucking Princeton. That’s insane.”
His praise is like a warm glow, spreading across my body, but I also have no idea how to react to it. I can feel myself smiling awkwardly as I press the phone against my ear.
“Mama would be so proud,” he adds.
Oh god, not right now.
“Thanks, I—”
“And Papa’s proud, too.”
“Really?” I hadn’t meant that to come out. It just escaped while my defenses were down, thinking about Mama.
“Of course!” He laughs, but it sounds strained. “Listen, I know he’s not always good at showing it, but he’s really proud of us all.”
“Of course he’s proud of you.” Another slip.
“Eli, come on. You know that’s not true.”
Coach calls my name and I’m so grateful for the distraction I could kiss him.
“That’s my coach, I’ve got to go.”
“Okay sure, good luck. Go kick ass, okay?”
I thank him and hang up, my heart pounding. A cool sweat beading on my top lip. That competitive spirit I remember consuming me when I was a kid who looked up to his big brother taking over. I jog over to Coach, feeling the fire light me from the inside.