Page 38 of Breakpoint
“It was important that these kids not only have the gear they need but also a decent place to play. I just keep picturing the kids on these courts, you know?” Jaz’s voice, a little softer now, a little more vulnerable, filtered through. “Kids who never thought they’d pick up a racket, laughing, running around. In places where no one ever bothered to put a decent court in.”
“You’re doing great work, Jaz. You should be really proud of the lives you are impacting.” Dani shifted, drawing her knees up to her chest.
“They are why this it’s still my dream,” Jaz declared, her voice a little softer now, less of the usual competitive edge. “The tennis academy. For kids who wouldn’t otherwise get the chance. In neighborhoods where nobody thinks to build anything.”
That phone call stretched into the night. The phone pressed against her ear until it grew warm. It became a routine for them, calls often lasting hours. She got to understand more of who Jaz could be outside of tennis, and that person was lonely—and felt the pressure and anxiety more than she let on.
When they were in the same city, they would continue to train together and have early morning runs before and after tournaments.Jaz became her biggest supporter, always pushing her to be better. To the outside world and those on the tour, nothing appeared different from when they were preparing for Wimbledon or the Olympics.
What outsiders didn’t see were the stolen glance across the crowded space, a brush of fingers as they passed each other in the narrow aisle of the locker room—charged moments that fueled their burgeoning connection. Stolen kisses during practice sessions or the make-out sessions before she left for a tournament. Sometimes, when the locker room was empty, Dani would steal a quick kiss, tasting the salt and the lingering sweetness of energy drinks.
Away from the courts, they explored new cities together. Normally, during tournaments, Jaz would just sit in the hotel or rental house and read. Or watch match film on her iPad of her next competitor. Isolate herself from the world. But Dani forced her out in order to take her mind off the stress of tennis for a bit. They would just meander around. They talked more about their childhoods, their families, the pressures and triumphs of life on the tour, especially the loneliness that could settle in living out of a suitcase even amidst the cheering crowds. Revealing new layers to each other.
But she also adored the way Jaz remembered the small details about random things she mentioned in passing. Like how she remembered that Dani’s favorite food was Italian and attempted to cook Dani’s favorite meal of spaghettiwith meatballs.
“What is all this smoke?” Dani shouted, entering Jaz’s house. A wave of panic washed over her until she heard a frantic coughing fit from the kitchen. Walking through the swinging doors, she found Jaz fanning a smoking pot on the stove with a dish towel, her face smudged with soot.
The kitchen was a disaster zone: flour dusted the countertops, a trail of tomato sauce splattered across the floor, and the once-pristine white cabinets were now streaked with red. “What the fuck happened in here?”
Jaz croaked, her voice raspy from the smoke. “I was trying to make your favorite.” She gestured proudly at the carnage. “I got the recipe online. And I don’t know what went wrong? This sauce is even horrible.”
Dani went over to the stove, dipped a tentative spoon into the saucepot. The first taste hit her like a punch—an overwhelming surge of salt. It was as if Jaz had mistaken the saltshaker for an hourglass. On the stove, spaghetti clung to the bottom of a pan. “How did you manage to burn noodles?” Dani didn’t even think it was possible.
“Fuck if I know.” Jaz threw her hands up.
Dani went to stand by a defeated Jaz and wrapped her in her arms. “I really appreciate the effort, truly. This is... something else.”
Jaz wrapped her arms around Dani’s waist and nuzzled into her neck. “I thought it would be easy. I’m not used to being bad at things.”
Dani leaned back from the embrace and placed a quick and reassuring kiss on her lips.
“But you know what? You’re an incredible tennis player. Absolutely brilliant. Let’s just agree to stick to your day job, okay? And maybe your chef can make us some spaghetti with meatballs tonight.” Jaz pouted but leaned in to kiss Dani once more.
But then Jaz’s competitive nature took over. She asked her chef to show her how to do it. She even started getting cooking lessons from her chef. They even did a few together. Those nights included the movie nights where they barely watched the movie, so engrossed in each other. She couldn’t seem to help herself because Jaz’s kisses were out of this world. Quick, desperate presses of lips in the shadowed privacy of their own world. Their connection crackled with the electricity of new romance.
But the biggest thing for Dani was the surprising sense of comfort that came with Jaz. They built their world in the spaces between on and off the court because they were navigating uncharted territory, two female players on the tour actively in a relationship.
She was definitely in a relationship with Jaz Mason and completely exclusive. Dani had made sure to nail that down because she knew there was a fragility to it all, a sense of something precious and precarious. She didn’t want to wonder:What are we?
The conversation happened right before she left for Montreal. Jaz popped into the guest room and sat on the bed while Dani packed her bags. They were still in separate rooms. For Dani, it was harder every night to go back to the guest bedroom when all she wanted to do was strip Jazand have her way with her.
“Sooo, what are you going to do without me around?” Dani asked as she looked for her blue sports bra, the one she always wore during the first-round match of any tournament.
“Train. The same thing I do when you’re here,” Jaz responded flatly, reading her mind and handing her the blue sports bra and matching bottoms.
“Well, I thought you might switch it up,” she stated as she tried to decide how many pairs of shoes to take.
Jaz passed several of the new tennis dresses that their sponsor had just sent over. It was actually nice and kind of domestic to be sitting there and packing together. “Nope, I’m predictable, as you keenly remind me on a regular basis. What are you going to do in Montreal?”
“Going to play in a tournament. I’m going to be focused on that.”
“Didn’t you tell Sascha Rudd you would go out on the town with her in Montreal?”
She looked at Jaz with a smile on her lips at the obvious fishing she was doing. “I said maybe, but it’s not likely. I’m not really feeling that anymore. I would much rather talk to you than get drunk and have a bunch of random people gyrate next to me.”
Jaz scrunched up her face. “That does NOT sound like fun.”
Dani finally threw three pairs of tennis shoes into the side pouch of her luggage. “Not at all, but you have that sponsorship event. This gala must be a big deal if you’re actually going to it.”
