Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
SAM
Ididn’t know what I expected Wyatt to do when he told me to leave it with him because I didn’t really have much time to think about it.
After that conversation, the form that had been sporadic for a lot of the North American swing seemed to return to me, and I was playing some of the best tennis I’d played all season.
Then Wyatt had set me the task of reaching out to at least one person to try to start something that could maybe become a friendship, and as a result, I was starting to feel like I could consider Ryder a friend.
Although Naomi and I had started texting more, it was mostly about all the meals I was eating and all the recipes Alisha was testing out on her so she could add to her repertoire when she went back on the tour.
It hadn’t occurred to me that his sisters would show up in Paris.
Now that I didn’t have my dad being vocal at every possible moment, I’d stopped paying as much attention to my player box.
I knew Wyatt wasn’t the most talkative, and even though he said he could talk more if I wanted, I found that I didn’t.
It felt nice to know he would only give his advice if he thought I really needed it and trusted me enough to put into action what we’d spent hours talking about off court.
It meant that I’d quickly fallen out of the habit of looking over to my box at any given moment.
So it wasn’t until the third changeover that I’d even noticed Wyatt wasn’t sitting there alone, but with two very familiar faces.
Walking two steps behind Naomi in Paris, I was weighed down by my kit bags because I didn’t want to waste time making a detour to drop them off.
Even though it was probably a good idea, because I was wearing black jogging bottoms and a matching hoodie under my jacket with a pair of battered-looking trainers.
It wasn’t exactly ‘have a potentially life-changing conversation’ attire. At least I’d taken my hat off.
“If I’d known you were here, I would have brought a different outfit to leave in,” I said quietly, worried about breaking the surprisingly comfortable silence.
“You’re fine. I’m not exactly dressed to the nines,” she answered with a dismissive wave. It was true that she wasn’t dressed up—black leggings, black jumper with the words ‘fuelled by caffeine and rage’ on it, with black boots to tie the look together—but she still looked better than I did.
“You still look hot. I look like a slob,” I fired back, not second-guessing the obvious flirty tone in my voice.
“I dunno, it’s kinda doing it for me,” she flirted back before she hid her smile behind her cup.
“We’re literally always in athletic wear. We’re so fucked if that’s what does it for the other one.” I laughed.
Her smile turned wicked. “I think it’s only a problem if we let it get in the way of our actual job, and neither of us is likely to do that.”
“A fair point.”
“I’ve been known to have those sometimes.”
By the time we were seated at our table, the sun was setting, and we were illuminated by candlelight. We were sitting at a table tucked away in a corner, and she was cast in a warm golden glow that made her look radiant.
Her chin was resting on the back of her hand, and her eyes were gentle as she looked at me now that the waiter had taken our orders. It gave off the air of being calm and collected, but her posture was too rigid, like when she sometimes second-guessed her service motion on a big point.
I cleared my throat. This wasn’t quite the place I imagined having this conversation, but I couldn’t put it off any longer.
“So, I feel like I owe you an apology for what happened that night. I got a lot of wires crossed and may have thought you were going to do something you’d regret.”
She nodded. “Can I ask what you thought I might regret? I wasn’t drunk. I mean, I wasn’t sober, but I was very aware of what I was doing.”
I cast my eyes down to the table. “I thought you had a boyfriend. A tall, blond boyfriend,” I mumbled.
A weight came down over my forearm, and I could feel the heat from her hand seeping through the fabric. I lifted my gaze to see her holding back a smile.
“Okay, I can see where your wires might’ve gotten crossed. To confirm, I’ve not been flirting with you, nor did I try to kiss you while I had a boyfriend. Isaac is one of my best friends. Nothing more.”
I huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, well, I know that now. Although even if I wasn’t convinced you had a boyfriend, it honestly didn’t occur to me that you were being anything but nice to me,” I added quietly.
She blew out a breath. “Damn, my flirting skills could apparently use some work, then. I mean, I was being nice, but maybe the other vibes I was trying to get across were getting lost in translation.”
Our drinks arrived, and Naomi pulled her hand back. Goosebumps travelled up my arm at the loss.
“I think I might also be the problem. As I’m sure you noticed, I’ve been in quite the bubble, which didn’t really allow for much of a life outside of the sport.
It also just didn’t occur to me that you would be interested.
I’m incredibly boring, and up until recently, I struggled to have a conversation with anyone that wasn’t about the sport I’m paid to do. ”
“Oh, I dunno, we’ve had some non-tennis chats over the last few months.”
“But I somehow always managed to bring them back to tennis. Didn’t I literally tell you I didn’t want to talk about tennis and then go on to ask if you were going to come back to it?”
A wide smile brightened Naomi’s face. It was a sight I wanted to see as much as I could.
“You did. Now here we are, six months later in Paris, and I have a calf muscle that is always just the wrong side of too tight like the good ol’ days,” she said as she placed her hand back on my arm, and I instantly felt my shoulders drop.
“Keeping things non-tennis related, now that you know I don’t have a heavily tatted blond boyfriend, does that change things for you? ”
It was my turn to smile. “It does. But I still have no idea how it will work. We spend weeks in different parts of the world, and then there’s the fact that you’ll be in one place come next summer.
And the last time I was on the road with someone I cared about, the relationship became so bad that we’ve not spoken in weeks, and I’m pretty sure—”
Naomi squeezed my forearm, and my rambling ground to a halt.
“Let’s just take a moment. I feel like you’re running before you can walk.”
I took a deep, shuddery inhale and, on the exhale, once again felt my shoulders drop down my back.
“I happen to have a lot of experience with maintaining somewhat decent relationships with people while on the road and also while I’m rooted in one place.
It requires clear expectations, but it’s not impossible.
So, like, don’t worry yourself about that.
Also, I can respect that it does work for some people, but in my experience, your parent being your coach is always going to end badly because you’re always gonna feel bad when you want to go against them.
But they’re your parents, not the person living your life.
I’m sure you and your dad will find your way back to each other, and you’ll probably be better for it.
I say we just focus on the now and take each step as it comes.
You don’t need to add unnecessary stress to the end of your season by making this complicated.
I like you, and you like me.” Her eyebrows drew together. “Right?” she asked nervously.
I put my hand on top of hers, only realising a second too late that it was a little clammy. “Yeah, I like you, Naomi.”
“Okay. Well, that’s simple then. Maybe next time, when I go to kiss you, you won’t act like I’m Poison Ivy.”
A laugh bubbled up and out of me so sharply, it caught me by surprise, but it rewarded me with another of my favourite Naomi’s smiles.
“I wasn’t aware you could move that quickly off the court,” I teased.
Naomi pulled back—my arm didn’t feel the loss of her touch as acutely as before—and started playing with her wine glass. Her fingers looked delicate on the stem before they slid up and up, gently holding the glass.
“Oh, so he’s got jokes now. Maybe I’ll just leave you to make the first move,” she shot back as she took a long sip. When she put the glass down, the tip of her tongue peeked out to clear a drop of the deep red liquid clinging to her bottom lip.
I cleared my throat. “Maybe I’ll just leave you waiting until finally you cave.”
“Sam, I shattered my ankle and couldn’t walk for weeks. I’m a patient person.”
“Naomi, I ruptured my ACL when I was a teenage boy. I, too, am a patient person.”
She took another sip of wine as her eyes narrowed.
“I guess we’ll see which one loses their patience first,” she settled on just as our food arrived, and her eyes lit up at the two massive bowls of chips that were set down along with our steaks. She picked one up and sighed when she took a bite.
“Fuck, these are good.”
There was a high chance I would be the one to lose my patience first.