Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Leo’s heart plunges into the depths of his belly.
In the first round of the Open, Leo Chambers will face off against Gabriel Montoya.
The man he’s never beaten. Ten straight losses.
Of course. Of course this would happen. At least it took until the third round for them to meet at Wimbledon.
But the first round? This is cruel. It feels like the tennis gods have dropped Gabe here just to fuck with him.
Making it to the semifinals again—let alone winning the whole goddamn Slam—has just gotten much more complicated.
“It’s okay. This is okay,” Johnny says, his hand on Leo’s shoulder. “We can work with this.”
It’s okay, I can do this,
I can beat him.
Except, you never have.
I’ve come close.
You can’t handle his slice.
It’s fine, I’ll find a way.
Sure, sweetie.
His phone vibrates in his pocket and breaks him out of the conversation that all the voices in his head are having with each other right now.
I think I jinxed you, Ollie’s text reads.
Yeah, thanks for that, Leo responds.
Ollie sends an angel emoji.
Leo closes their conversation and decides to distract himself by opening Instagram.
Rookie mistake. The first thing on his feed is a post from Serving Looks, which is already sharing reactions to the men’s draw.
What’s worse, the post staring back at him shows side-by-side photos of him and Gabe.
On the left is Leo and—shocker—it’s a fan’s photo of him from today’s practice.
His six-foot frame is twisting as he hits a forehand.
His body, toned but not chiseled, is glistening in the oppressive sun, light brown hair covering his chest, his happy trail leading down into his navy-blue shorts.
On the right is Gabe, also practicing for the Open.
A couple inches taller than Leo, he’s wearing a black tank that highlights his powerful arms as he tosses a ball into the air. The caption reads:
servinglooks SPICY. Our two favorite American heartthrobs are set for a first-round showdown at the @usopen. Can @leochambers finally solve the @gabemontoya riddle? Their head-to-head is 10–0 Montoya.
He scrolls down to the next post on his feed, another side-by-side of him and Gabe:
espn Grab your popcorn, tennis fans. It’s an 11th career meeting for @leochambers and @gabemontoya, America’s greatest hopes for a new home champ at the @usopen. You won’t want to miss this round-one battle on Monday.
He keeps scrolling and finds a photo of Gabe with sunglasses on, turning to the camera as he walks the US Open grounds:
gabemontoya LFG, NYC! Ready for a show?? I know I am.
Ughhhhh. Leo locks his phone and shoves it back in his pocket, nearly tearing a hole in it. He lets out a frustrated sigh. There’s a knock at the door.
“Leo? You all right?” Johnny says.
He hears his dad and the rest of his team gathered and pacing outside the bathroom, eager to talk to him about the game plan for this first-round showdown.
It’s like they’re all backstage, outside a Broadway dressing room, delicately trying to convince the lead actor to get over their jitters and get out on stage.
It may seem dramatic and, yes, it is, but this is how it works with tennis players.
It’s one of the most individual sports in the world.
No matter how important the coach, physio, trainer, and hitting partner are in molding them for success, it all comes down to that one person who walks onto the court at match time, relying only on themselves to get the win.
And they’re walking onto that court up to 150 times a year.
So, yeah. There might not be an “i” in “team”—but there certainly is in “tennis.”
Leo steps out of the bathroom. “Yeah, I’m good,” he says, nodding. “I got this.”
At practice the next day, Leo turns midstretch to see Johnny hauling over a ball hopper.
“It’s that time again!” Johnny says.
Leo groans. “I hate how much you love this.”
“Hey, what do I always say? You’re only as good as your second serve,” Johnny tells him, placing a hand on Leo’s shoulder. “I didn’t coin that phrase for nothing.”
“Dad, you literally didn’t coin that phrase.”
For the next hour, Johnny stands at the corner of the court, watching Leo practice his second serve over and over and over again.
He bounces the ball five times with his left hand, then presses it to the center of the racket, leaning over and swinging his arms a couple times.
He tosses the ball high into the air, somewhat resembling the Statue of Liberty (which Paul seems to think he’s dying to visit?), puts his feet together, and launches his body upward.
His right arm rotates around and he skids the racket strings along the ball to give it a bit of extra kick.
It flies over the net, lands in the box, and bounces with a tall arch.
“You’ll have to give it to him good,” Johnny says.
Leo lands back on the ground and whips his head around toward his dad. “Sorry?” he says, suddenly dizzy.
“I just mean, I think you’ll have to give that second serve as much kick as you can with Gabe,” Johnny says. “Really get it up.”
“Oh. Right,” Leo says. “What do you think about me going for the slice out wide? I feel like I need to throw him off balance more.”
“You’re much more comfortable with the kick, you know that,” Johnny says.
“I know, but Gabe knows that, too. He won’t be expecting it out wide,” Leo says. “I never go for the slice with him.”
“Ooh, all this talk of slices. I gotta get some New York pizza while we’re here,” Johnny says, zooming right by Leo’s strategizing. “Okay, let’s keep it going.”
Johnny claps as Leo steps up to the line for about the billionth time today, and Leo can’t help but roll his eyes.
Meanwhile, the episode of What a Racket featuring Leo has been released. As always, Paul is churning them out practically every other day ahead of the Open, his social team sharing each episode link on the podcast’s Instagram.
As he makes his way into the men’s locker room after finishing what feels like ten thousand practice serves with his dad, Leo sees he’s been tagged in a post.
servinglooks “No, no, I’m not seeing anyone at the moment.”—@leochambers on the latest “What a Racket.” I’m, like, dropping hints that I’m single!!!
The caption rests below another shirtless photo of Leo, this time during a changeover at Wimbledon. He’s sitting down, wide-legged, pulling on a fresh white shirt.
He’s not particularly fazed by posts about his looks anymore.
It comes with the territory of being one of the world’s top tennis players.
Serving Looks has reached 200K followers and draws a ton of new young fans to the sport.
Leo is just relieved that good ol’ Jesse must have cut the whole “Jesus Christ, Paul” moment like he said he would; otherwise, that definitely would’ve made its way into this caption.
Leo listens to the episode just to make sure.
Phew. Jesse kept his word.
He knows he shouldn’t keep listening. The final part of the episode features the interview with Gabe. It’s not worth it. Really. Gabe will just spout some pompous bullshit. Leo will put his phone away now. Yep. Here he goes. In 3, 2 … Putting his phone away.
“So, it’s not your first rodeo here, Gabriel,” Paul says. “But I want to ask you the same question I asked Leo. It’s been twenty years since Andy Roddick won the Open. Coming into this Slam, do you feel any pressure being an American favorite?”
“I don’t,” Gabe says, cool as ever. “Leave that to Leo. He’s the chosen one, right?”
Leo’s hand grips his phone tighter.
“Well, not to put too fine a point on it, but straight out of juniors, you both became the biggest hopes for American tennis. It’s been you two vying for the glory,” Paul says. “Leo may be ranked higher, but I think fans have always been pulling for you, too.”
“That’s definitely true. I have a special connection with the fans here, maybe even more so than Leo. I think they like to root for somebody who can actually put on a show.”
He can’t listen to any more of this. Leo shoves his phone into his Wilson bag and plops it down onto the bench.
Sticky from the humidity and planning to head straight to Tess’s hotel for dinner, he desperately needs a rinse.
He peels off his shirt and rummages through his locker for his toiletries.
When he shuts the door a few moments later, he spots Gabe standing at his own locker across the aisle.
Leo jumps. “Shit,” he says, and his tone turns sarcastic. “Wow, lucky me. I keep bumping into you.”
“Just like in the draw, huh?” Gabe says with a wry smile.
He has nothing on but a towel wrapped around his waist, some droplets of water from the shower still hugging his body.
His hair is soaking wet and slicked back.
Before Leo can even make a quippy response, Gabe is now taking off the towel, draping it over the bench behind him.
Leo makes a point of not looking over at him, or his sculpted back, or his bubble butt, or—oh my God, okay, enough.
He pretends he needs to rummage through his locker again to avert his eyes.
“Sorry to have to knock you out in the first round,” Leo says, doing nothing in his locker but picking up his bottle of sunscreen and putting it down to look busy.
Gabe laughs as he pulls on his briefs: Calvin Klein, white, the kind he wore in the company’s campaign earlier this year, which Serving Looks reposted at the speed of light:
servinglooks SHEESH, warn us next time, @gabemontoya. The American star is the latest ATP player to strip down for @calvinklein’s #mycalvins campaign and, uh, DAMN.
Did Leo linger on that post for a few seconds? Nah, not really. Scrolled right on by that one for sure. He’s seeing these white Calvins on Gabe for the first time. Now. Here. In the locker room. Yup, yup, yup.