Page 102 of Drop Shot
I’m feeling particularly traumatized after his injury in the Madrid Open.
But he seems to be on top of his game. He commands the clay court with practiced ease against his Russian opponent. He looks unfazed out there. Locked in with complete focus.
Ebba and his parents seem just as stressed to my left and his coaching team in front of me seems to be keeping a careful eye on him.
Elias dives for the ball and I wince, saying a silent prayer that he’s not hurt. But he hops up covered in clay, ready to cover the ball when it returns.
I’m practically sitting on the edge of my seat when the fourth set starts. Elias has won two, and his opponent one. If Elias wins this set, then he advances to the final. If he loses then there’s a fifth set to determine the winner.
“He’s doing well,” Ebba says, giving my shaking knee a squeeze. “Don’t you think?”
“Definitely.”
This has not been Elias’s year and I’m praying that he can at least make it to the final this time. It happens at times though, even the best players can get in a rut and end up in a losing streak.
My head aches as the set goes on since it’s swiveling from left to right constantly.
When Elias scores match point, I don’t even realize at first. It takes seeing him drop to his knees in awe for it to click that he’s won.
I rise with the crowd, applauding.
Elias stands and picks up his racket, meeting his opponent at the net to shake hands.
After shaking hands with the umpire Elias turns to the crowd and waves. Since I know him well, I know that smile isn’t cockiness like some might interpret it as, but instead shock. He wasn’t confident he could pull this off. Whether he wants to admit it or not, he’s been in his head too much thanks to the losing streak.
After an on-court interview, he waves again before heading out through the tunnel. The next men’s semi-final needs to start shortly.
His team, family, and I clear out from the players box.
It’ll be a while before Elias can meet up with any of us.
“Do you want to go back to the hotel?” I ask Ebba as her parents talk quietly among themselves a few feet away. I’m not sure the siblings got a chance to tell them what had happened before it leaked to the press, and it’s safe to say that the two of them have been hovering more than normal around Ebba and me.
Ebba shakes her head. “I don’t want to be holed up in the hotel right now. But I’m not sure I want to go out either. I … I don’t know what I want and that sucks.”
“It’s okay to be confused right now.”
She nods but doesn’t say anything further.
“Have you heard from Keaton at all?” I ask, curious if he’s even offered an apology. From my understanding he was released the next day and quickly left for the States.
Her lips purse in annoyance. “Unfortunately. I finally blocked his number. He kept telling me it was an accident, and he was drunk, so I had to forgive him. When I ignored that he called me a stupid bitch. I ignoredthatso then he told me I was a cunt who deserved it and he could get better pussy anywhere.”
My mouth pops open. “Wow. What a fucking asshole.”
She shakes her head, annoyance flashing over her features. “I knew he wasn’t the best guy. I should’ve never dated him in the first place.”
“Hindsight is twenty-twenty,” I point out.
She snorts. “God, I hate that saying, but yeah, I guess it’s true. I think I’m going to be single for a while. I’m not feeling too great about the male population at the moment.”
“I’m really sorry.”
Her lips part in surprise. “You’re sorry? Whimsy, it was my boyfriend who attacked you, too. Why are you apologizing to me?”
“Because I hate that you’re feeling this way.”
She pulls me into a hug. “The best decision my brother ever made was hiring you as his assistant and giving me my best friend.”
