Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
NAOMI
Eastbourne, UK – June
Eastbourne Finals Day
Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine I would make a final in my second tournament back to the post. Especially after my disastrous first match at Queen’s.
But tennis was nothing if not full of never-ending surprises, and so the final was where I found myself.
Against Lois of all people. I really hadn’t imagined that the first time I would play her again would be in a final, but I guess the luck of my wildcard entry meant I was on the opposite side of the draw to her and all the stars aligned to make this happen.
We were both sitting in the players lounge, silently eating a small mountain of food because even though I’d been out for so long, we both knew that when we played each other, the match could last for hours.
And given the form we both seemed to be in this week, it felt likely that we were about to enter a battle.
“Do you know which way the wind is moving today?” Lois eventually broke the silence.
I shook my head as I swallowed my mouthful. “I didn’t ask. I’ve long decided that it doesn’t matter what way the wind is blowing, you’re fucked at some point regardless.”
The wind had been both my best friend and my enemy this week.
Carrying balls too wide. Pulling them out of line when I was mid-service motion was the worst. But it had also been a key factor in keeping balls on the right side of the line, and I’d won more close calls than I’d lost, so I couldn’t complain too much.
“But one way is better than the other,” she pointed out.
“Lois, are we really going to sit here and talk about the wind?”
She scoffed. “What else do you want to talk about? I’m pretty caught up on the rest of your life, unless you got married at some point this week and forgot to mention it?”
A warmth spread up my neck and along my ears. Sometimes the pink flush wasn’t visible, but I could tell by Lois’s face that right now, it was.
“Why are you blushing? Mimi, did you get married?”
I rolled my eyes. “No. I didn’t.”
“Okay, so no husband, but a man?” she whispered. Or at least she tried to; it was quieter than her normal volume, but still not quiet.
I looked around the room even though I knew we were the only two there.
“Not really. More like an inconvenient crush,” I answered lowly.
Lois leaned in towards me. I mirrored her.
“Let me guess, six-four, brown hair, always wears a baseball cap, at some point this year, he gave you an item of his clothing—”
“You don’t have to make that sound so scandalous,” I cut in. “But yes, your guess is correct.”
Given that I hadn’t experienced anything close to a crush in years, it hadn’t occurred to me that I might’ve developed one on Sam until two days ago, when I’d watched him tape his fingers up before his match, and my brain had gone down an unexpected path.
When I’d mentioned it to Alisha, she laughed at me because she’d clocked that something was going on with me in relation to Sam around the time she noticed that the only men’s games I watched featured him. And I’d never had such a regular hitting partner. Not even Lois.
On the one hand, he was around more than Lois, but on the other, I kept saying yes because I quite liked getting to share the court with him and seeing a side of his game that didn’t make him look like a robot.
I had no idea what went on in the parts of his training sessions that I didn’t see, but for the forty-five minutes he was across the net from me, he looked like he enjoyed being a tennis player.
“How long have you been sitting on this?”
“Not long. I became aware of it this week—”
“Oh, when we were in the gym, and you nearly slipped off the pedals when he took his shirt off on court?”
That had been pure coincidence. I’d tried to readjust my feet and didn’t realise I’d barely been on the pedals anyway.
“No, actually. But that day, yes.”
“Well, what’s our plan?”
My eyebrows drew together. “Our plan? Plan for what?”
“Yeah, I would also like to know how you two can be hatching a plan before a final,” a male voice cut in as he dropped into the seat next to Lois.
We’d been so huddled over each other, we apparently hadn’t noticed we were no longer alone.
In fact, the subject of our conversation had just materialised like we’d spoken him into existence.
I knew Sam would be on site today, but his final was due to start after ours, so I didn’t think he’d be here this early.
I mentally played back the conversation to see if we’d said anything incriminating.
“My brother is turning thirty next month,” Lois reeled off like it was nothing. I knew for a fact that she’d already locked in plans for that. We were hoping that if either of us had to play on the day, the Wimbledon schedule was kind to us and gave us a first on-court session.
Sam looked bewildered. “That’s really what you’re talking about before you face off against each other?”
“We’re not exactly going to sit here and talk to each other about strategy or offer the other one hot tips.
I know how to beat her, and she knows how to beat me.
We’re not on court right now, so I’m hatching a plan with my best friend about how to ruin my brother’s day by making him the centre of attention for once. ”
I snorted. It really was Pete’s worst nightmare to be perceived.
“I guess I’m just always thinking about tennis,” Sam offered meekly before he pulled a roll of tape out from his shorts pocket. “Don’t stop hatching plans just cos I’m here.”
Lois quirked an eyebrow at me and then started talking about a birthday I already knew all the details about. Which is why I felt less bad about zoning out and watching Sam tape his fingers.
First finger on his right hand at the base.
Between the first and second knuckles on his middle and third fingers on his right.
The base of his ring finger on his left hand, along with the top of his left middle finger and between the first and second knuckles on his first finger.
He bit the tape every time, a muscle in his jaw clenching, and his tongue peeking out.
It was hypnotic to watch, and it was only when a whistle that reminded me a lot of my dad cut through the room that I zoned back in.
Wyatt and Peter were waiting for us by the door, and as Lois and I went to join them, she threaded her arm through mine.
“I get it. But I swear, if your head isn’t in the game because of some fucking hands, I’m never going to speak to you again.”
“Did you forget who I am?”
Even though I’d made it to the final, I hadn’t found myself slipping into my old state of mind on court during the handful of matches I’d played.
Turns out, all I needed was to stand opposite the one person I’d played most.
There was no time to think about anything except the next point, and wait to see which one of us would break first.
We were tied in the final set, and Lois was serving.
I chanced a glance at my box. Wyatt was already looking at me, making a hand gesture to remind me to breathe.
Then he pulled that hand back. It was his way of telling me to move forward.
Wyatt rarely gave me on-court coaching even though he could.
In fact, most of the time, he and Alisha were basically statues.
A solid, calming presence to draw on when things felt too much on court and not much else.
If he was telling me to move forward, then I was going to listen.
I realised on Lois’s first serve what he’d seen that I hadn’t. Her serve was slowing, which meant I could take it earlier. And if you gave me a short ball, historically, you were fucked.
In no time at all, I was thirty–love up and within touching distance of my first break point of the match.
Then the wind decided to kick up, and Lois and I watched both her serves literally move in the air and land on the wrong side of the line.
Break point.
I wasn’t the kind of person to miss an opportunity like that.