Page 19 of Risky Match
“It’s been too long. Were you looking forme?”
“I was hoping we could set up our practice schedule. We need time playing together before our first match.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I know you’re ranked in the top five for singles, but as you know, doubles tennis is different. And we’ve never played as partners before. We need to get comfortable with each other and coordinate our signals before our first-round match.”
I point at her and then back at myself. “Are you supposed to be my doubles partner?”
That can’t be possible. Partnering with Brianna would be too strange after our one-time encounter two years ago. It would be awkward at best and more likely extremely frustrating, at least to my cock. I don’t have time for distractions like this.
I look at her, almost pleading for her to tell me I’m wrong.
Instead, she looks hurt yet defiant, as she responds, “I’m a solid doubles player. I promise that I won’t embarrass you.”
Shite. I’ve just insulted her. That wasn’t my intention.
“That’s not what I meant. I didn’t realize you were supposed to be my partner. Of course, I’d be honored to play with you. But the problem is that I need to focus on winning singles this year. And you need to focus on your own singles matches. Shouldn’t we skip the mixed doubles?”
A look of horror crosses her face but is quickly replaced with a neutral expression.
Looking upward, she bites her upper lip, clearly deciding what to say next. After an awkward silence, she lowers her eyes to mine, saying, “I’m not playing singles. My wild card is only for mixed doubles.”
Did I hear her correctly?
“Are you saying you can only play at Wimbledon if we play together?”
“Exactly.”
“Fuck.”
“Don’t you dare speak to Her Royal Highness in that manner,” says the other woman, whom I now recognize as Martina, Bri’s coach.
“Martina, it’s fine. Blake and I are friends. Give us some space to discuss this.”
“As you wish, but I’ll be nearby as will your guard.”
“Thank you. Blake, let’s walk to the back of the court so we can talk privately.”
“Of course.”
I walk by her side, taking in her intoxicating scent. It’s a mystery how she smells so sweet after a workout. I accidentally drift closer, and our arms almost brush, but I catch myself just in time. Reaching the back of the court, we stop. We’re far enough away from the others to talk privately.
Brianna turns to face me.
Before she says anything, I need to clear the air.
“I’m sorry, Bri. I wasn’t intending to be disrespectful to you. It’s the situation. This is the only major I’ve never won. I need to focus. But if I do that, I’ll let you down.”
“We can make this work. We only need a little practice time. You’ll still have plenty of time to prep for your singles matches. I’d love to see you win this year.”
“I don’t see how this could work.”
“I’ve wanted my chance to play at Wimbledon my entire career. This may be my only opportunity. And it would be a disaster for me, and my family, if the press reports that you don’t think I’m an acceptable playing partner. My career would be over. No one would ever invite me to any future tournaments. Please don’t do that to me.”
Her eyes well with unshed tears as her head falls in defeat.
A tear rolls down her cheek. I step closer, gently lifting her chin with my index finger so our eyes meet.
