Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Tegan
I should be happy.In the middle of a party being thrown in my honor for winning the Miami Open,I should be happy.But I'm not.
There has never been a victory as empty as this one.Not just because of what Alexandria did,but because Roman is gone. According to Alexandria, who kindly dropped by to congratulate me, he left hours ago. Moved on.Maybe never to be heard from again in the world of tennis.And maybe that's not such a bad thing, for his sake.
While the party rages on,I walk down to the beach.It takes a while to get there from the hotel.The sun is starting to go down, the waves rolling onto the sand, and I stand at the very edge of the water, let it rush over my bare feet.
No one's even going to notice I'm gone. Most of them are half drunk.When I get back to my hotel room tonight, I'll probably drink myself into a stupor as well.
A cool wind blows in and I cross my arms. I'm wearing a strapless dress, so it doesn't take much. I sort of feel like I want to cry, which is so ridiculous.
What, I'm going to cry because I won a tournament?I'm going to cry because Roman lost?I'm going to cry because I'm probably never going to see him again?
The lump forms harder in my throat.I have no idea what we were doing these last few days, but...it was nice.It was nice to not be alone.
I’ve spent the last few years traveling.Working hard. Sure, I have tennis friends. But I'm not very good at socializing and Alexandria was turning a lot of people against me.
And I'm just busy. So busy trying to have a career that friendship is not exactly at the top of my priority list.Neither are romantic relationships.
And somehow, in the last two days, I had both. I had somebody whoI liked to talk to.Somebody whoI wasn't counting down the seconds until I could leave.And now, I'm probably never going to see him again.
I feel one hot tear roll down my cheek and angrily wipe it away.It's so stupid to be upset about this.To be upset about some weird little tryst I had with Roman Jostad.
If you had told me a year ago that I would have sex several times with Roman Jostad,I would have laughed in your face.
When the water comes up over my calves,my feet sufficiently buried in wet sand,I turn back for the hotel.
There's a dark figure on the beach,standing at the bottom of the stairs that lead back up to the road,
I can still hear the music from the hotel.The lights from the buildingsabove are casting a deep shadow over whoever it is watching me right now.
A little sprinkle of fear goes through me.I'm out here alone.No one up at the party is paying any attention to what's going on down at the beach. I could very easily get attacked and no one would even notice.This person could toss my body into the ocean,and I'd be fish food by morning.
But then the figure steps out of the shadowsand into the fading light,and I see that it's Roman, his blonde hair pushed out of his eyes,a duffel bag slung over his body.
Why is he still here?
“Roman?”I call.I want to go to him, but I feel frozen. So I'm glad when he walks toward me,both hands grasping the strap across his chest.He looks like all the tennis bros I went to college with, and I feel my heart start to pound,because he's here, and he's beautiful.
And I'm seeing him again. I'm getting another chance.We could exchange phone numbers. We could make some kind of plans to see each other at another tournament.I don't know.
My mind is racing when he finally stops in front of me.
“I have to leave for my flight,” he says.
“Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“And, um, where is that?”
One side of his mouth quirks up. “You don't know where I live.”
I shrug.It’s not like I memorized his Tennis Association profile. I didn’t know we were going to end up here. “Sweden?”
He laughs. “No.I moved to Amsterdam a decade ago.”
“I’ve never been to Amsterdam.”
He tilts his head to one side.“Really?”
I nod.He nods, too. And this weird, awkward lullin the conversationhappens.Did he come here to say goodbye, or...
“Ask me to go with you.”
His eyes shoot back to mine with laser focus. “What?”
I take a step toward him, a big one so that I have to crane my neck to look up at him.“Ask me to go to Amsterdam with you and I'll say yes.”
I see his Adam's apple bob, see his chest move up and down in a heavy breath. “Why would you want to come to Amsterdam with me?”
I shrug.“Because I really like you?Because it might be fun?Because I kind of want to let you fuck me the Netherlands, like a million times?”
At that, he laughs.And so do I, the tension between us snapping.
He steps forward until he's pressed to me, reaches up and takes my jaw in his big hand.“I’m not a tennis coach anymore,” he says.
“Okay. Are you happy with that?”
He shrugs.“I’m happy not to be working for Alexandria's father anymore.I don't really know what to do with myself now. But I’m not afraid anymore.”
I think about what I said to him outside the clinic. I don’t know if it was the right thing to do or not, but maybe it brought us here.
“You could coach me.”
He scoffs.“You have a coach, a very good one.”
“Be my assistant then.”I step closer, wrap my arms around him, grab onto the strap behind his back, not letting go.“You could just travel with me and...be there to cheer me on. Be a consultant or something. Help me with my technique.Have sex with me every night, so that I'm all limbered up for my matches.”
His smile is brighter than what's left of the sunlight.“And you think that would be a fulfilling life for me?”
“I don't know.We could play tennis together.”
At that, his smile dims a little.“I’m no competition for you.”
“I don't want competition. Just a partner.”
He presses his forehead to mine.“Will you come to Amsterdam with me?”
I smile. “Yes.”