Chapter 12
twelve
Going to Smash Point makes sense, doesn’t it? If Garrett played with Calder last summer, that’s probably where they met. But it’s in the opposite direction from his apartment. Why wouldn’t he find a place closer to him?
My hands sweat against the steering wheel.
I’ve never scheduled lessons with Calder on Mondays.
He probably isn’t even going to be there, and if there’s anyone else I know, I’ll just play it off.
Pretend we met playing somewhere else. I don’t know anybody well, and Garrett did say the place had a lot of availability tonight.
I talk myself down. It’s fine. There’s no reason to freak out. I should never have come up with this stupid plan and should’ve straight up told Garrett I took a lesson with Calder and I’m a complete idiot, but it’s fine.
You say that a lot. Calder’s voice rings in my head. Well, maybe that’s because I’m an idiot a lot!
Now I’m mentally arguing with him. Fantastic.
I park next to Garrett. We walk in together, laughing about a vendor snafu because that’s a safe topic, but as soon as the cool air hits my face, I feel like someone hooked me up to a caffeine IV.
My eyes dart to the desk, and I breathe a silent sigh of relief. It’s manned by a guy I’ve never seen. Mid-twenties. Smash Point hat.
“Hey! Welcome in. First time?” he asks, looking at Garrett.
“Not for me. But I’m bringing a friend.” Garrett turns to me. “I think you’ll need a waiver?”
My heart lodges itself in my spine. “Oh, actually, I’ve played here before. It should still be on file.”
“Oh, cool.” Garrett looks surprised.
“Name?” the desk guy asks.
“Alecia Monroe,” I say. “And could I use the Carbon demo paddle?” That was one benefit of coming here. See? Silver linings.
He nods and taps the keyboard. “Yep, you’re good, your membership’s still active, and—” Before I can process that, he ducks under the counter, emerges with a small branded box, and plops it on the desk like a magician revealing the rabbit. “Also, there’s a note on your file. These are for you.”
I blink at the box. I have a membership here? I’ve never paid for a membership. Did I give them my card for incidentals or something? “What are they?”
He smiles. “Open it and find out.”
Garrett nudges it toward me, and I flip open the top. I pull out a zippered case, and inside is—
Garrett whistles. “Those are nice. Wow, I’ve seen the ads.
” He plucks them from the case. They look like sunglasses.
“Amber lenses, vented frame. So lightweight.” The logo on the temple is a green dill pickle, which I adore.
“They just released this lens tint. These are amazing for tracking spin under LED lights.”
“They look cool,” I manage, frantically searching my brain for a reasonable explanation for this. Had Natasha or any of her friends been wearing glasses like these? Did Sam buy us both pairs? Maybe she ordered them through Smash Point?
“You two are good to go. Court four.” The employee smiles, handing me my paddle.
Garrett passes the glasses back, and I place them in the case. I need to check my bank records ASAP. I consider making a break for the bathroom, but force myself to walk with Garrett to the court.
No. I will not spiral and waste any time on this tonight. The banks are already closed for the day, so whether I check it now or in three hours, it won’t make a difference.
“So who do you know who plays here?” Garrett asks.
“Oh, nobody really. Just a couple of friends. Sam.” I was digging myself deeper and deeper, but I couldn’t seem to figure out a graceful exit.
“Well, obviously someone here is a fan.” He nods to the glasses case.
I laugh. “Probably just concerned for my safety. I get hit a lot.”
Garrett hangs his bag on the fence. “Yeah, how’s your leg by the way?”
My breath catches. He remembers that? “Totally fine. Only lasted a few days.” A week. But only because my skin is so sensitive.
I decide to put on the glasses because it would be weird if I didn’t. We warm up at the net, then move on to some of his favorite drills.
“So the key is to keep your paddle up,” he says for the fourth time. He shows me his grip again, even though I swear it’s exactly what I’m doing. “The angle is key. You want to cheat backhand . . .”
He keeps talking. Explaining the pros and cons of different paddle positions. I listen, but my muscles are getting cold just standing here.
“ . . . which will give you a huge advantage. Most women are timid up here. If you can just think about it like you’re hunting. You’re always looking for . . . “
I start to zone out. I remind myself that this is Garrett.
This is the thing I wanted—his attention on me, and it is fully on me.
I smile and nod, and when we finally start hitting again, I feel like a cyborg.
The glasses are incredible. They completely cut the glare from the overhead lights, and I swear it’s easier for me to track the ball.
That, combined with my muscle memory finally clicking, equals me hitting beautiful drives from the baseline.
Garrett grins and takes full credit even though it has nothing to do with a word he said. I let him claim it, but it itches under my skin a little.
“Hey, that’s so much better!” Garrett is lit up like a Christmas tree as we break for water. It doesn’t feel like he’s complimenting me, more his own coaching abilities.
“Thank you.” I grab my water bottle and take a drink. “I think I’ll refill this really quick.”
“Yeah, good idea.”
We walk to the water fountain between the restrooms and top off our bottles. Mine doesn’t take much, but Garrett’s is almost empty.
I lecture myself while I wait. Why am I being such a downer tonight? I’m here with Garrett! I should be getting to know him better or flirting or something other than allowing my eyes to wander to other courts, worrying about what exactly?
There’s nobody I know here. We have a half an hour left on our court, and then I can play a few games if I want, otherwise I can go home. Just lock the heck in, Alecia.
“There we go.” Garrett turns and screws on the lid.
The front doors open as we walk past the registration desk, and the air shifts. I look up automatically and freeze. Calder walks in wearing his navy-blue staff tee and gray shorts, his hat on backward. He turns his head and stops, his eyes locking on the glasses I’m wearing, and I instantly know.
They’re from him. Calder got me the glasses. My stomach feels like it’s being scooped out like a pumpkin. Why would he do something like that?
I’m not a nice guy.
His attention flicks to Garrett standing next to me. A muscle in his jaw ticks. “Hey. What are you doing here?”