Page 54 of Risky Match
“They couldn’t see anything from the doorway. We could leave, but I’m the one who would be embarrassed if I stood up. We’re stuck here for now.”
“It’s for the best. I shouldn’t have let things go that far. We need to concentrate on tennis,” I lament.
“I know. I know. It wasn’t your fault. It was mine,” he says as Josh and Natalie join us.
We offer them the strawberries, and I retreat into silence, too drained to make conversation. I close my eyes and try to untangle what just happened.
Out of the corner of my eye, I glance at Blake. He looks so composed—like nothing happened. Meanwhile my stomach twists itself into knots. I’d hoped he’d say it meant something, even if he thought it was a mistake. Instead, he quickly agreed it was nothing. That stings more than expected.
If I weren’t already drawn to him, I never would have picked such a romantic setting to ask questions. But deep down, was I secretly hoping we’d reconnect? The problem is that I had an ulterior motive: the mission.
I’m sick over the fact that I let things get intimate when he’s the subject of my mission. Was I trying to use sex as leverage? I swore I’d never do that. Or am I using the mission as an excuse to get closer to someone I’ve fantasized about for two years? Is the possibility of Blake being a criminal making him even more irresistible, sending our chemistry off the charts?
How did I twist myself into this tangle?
18
BLAKE
Josh and Natalie just pulled the ultimate cock block—without even realizing it. I’m not sure if I’m relieved or upset—probably both. Mentally, I know the last thing I need is to start something with the princess, but the rest of my body strongly disagrees.
It could never work between us. We come from completely different worlds. I grew up in one of the few poorer areas of Surrey. My father managed a small hotel, and my mother worked in a restaurant. Bri, on the other hand, grew up in a freaking palace.
She trained with the best tennis players and coaches from a young age. I only learned because the owner of my dad’s hotel invited me to join his kids on the court after school. I fell in love with the game almost instantly, even if I didn’t exactly fit in with my secondhand clothes and worn-out sneakers. Luckily, they had a coach and kept inviting me back, despite my situation.
Eventually, the coach noticed how quickly I was improving. He suggested to my dad that I apply to a local tennis organization that supports children who can’t afford to pursue the sport. I applied, and they selected me.
Thanks to that opportunity, my family’s sacrifices, and years of intense training, I was able to go on tour when I turned eighteen. That was the start of what’s turned into a successful career.
Ironically, that same path from poverty to professional tennis also led to meeting Bri. Every time I’m in her presence, I’m drawn to her. I crave her. I want to hold her. I just want her.
If only it were possible. Even if it were, it wouldn’t make sense. We had it right two years ago. It was one wonderful night not meant to be repeated.
It’s time to let my desire for her go.
19
BRIANNA
Butterflies are fluttering in my stomach this morning, which isn’t a surprise. Our first doubles match is today.
I’m both nervous and excited. Part of me wants the clock to speed up so we can start playing, while the other part wants to savor every second of the day.
We can do this. We have to. I want to win my first match at Wimbledon. I also need to win for the mission. If we lose, I have no reason to stay. That would be a problem.
Blake and I manage our stress differently, so we each stick to our pre-game routines. He has breakfast alone in his room while I prefer to eat with my housemates.
As I pack my tennis gear, I remind myself we’re as prepared as possible. Blake’s second-round singles match was yesterday morning. He won easily, so we were able to practice together in the afternoon. Then we met with our coaches to view videos of our opponents and go over strategies.
On the ride to the All England Club, the playful energy we shared in the hot tub is gone. Blake’s all business. He’s in full competition mode. I wish he were more talkative, but I’m relieved to see he’s taking our match seriously. I was worried he wouldn’t. To break the silence, I say, “Don’t forget to use thehand signals Martina and Josh suggested. It will really help me to know which direction you plan to move when I’m serving.”
He nods, but I doubt he’ll use them.
“How long before the match do you want to warm up in the workout area?”
“Forty-five minutes.”
“That works for me. I’ll be in the locker room until then. Text me if anything changes.”
