Page 47 of Breakpoint
She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Dani’s temple. A tiny flicker of a smile played on Dani’s lips, a fragile spark in the darkness. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
Dani looked up at her with wide, expectant eyes. “Do you wanna try to hit this afternoon? I figured you might need a session since your match was cancelled, and I need to hit off this anger from my shitty play today. Try to remember who the fuck I am.”
Jaz nodded and kissed her again. “Sure, honey.”
Dani definitely wasn’t in a good place. She knew certain losses rattled your confidence, and this was one of those moments for Dani. So this was not the time to bring it up. She would tell her later. When the storm had passed.
Chapter 15
The rain hammered against the window panes of the condo in Queens, a relentless, drumming rhythm that almost, but not quite, drowned out the soft tapping on the screen as Dani paused the recording on her tablet. The weather in New York City was always unpredictable in September, and when it rained in New York City, it really poured, whereby the streets that were normally bustling seemed quiet as everyone took refuge.
Beside her, nestled against her shoulder on the plush, oversized velvet green couch, Jaz did the same, her own tablet displaying a different match. Though Jaz had her back wrapped up with a heating pack because she was dealing with some lingering tightness.
The brick walls and high industrial ceilings in the condo made everything echo, so they sat in comfortable silence with the volume off, both reviewing film of their opponents for their first round at the US Open. There was no bigger Grand Slam tournament for an American tennis player than the US Open. The atmosphere was always electric, mainly because the fans were usually a little drunk.
Jaz told her the first time that she won it was like a drug being put straight into her veins. Having thirty thousand people on the largest tennis court in the world, shouting your name. They said New York City is where dreams were made, and Dani was hoping to make her dreams of winning the Open a reality this week.
“See there? My backhand was late. Again.” She tapped the screen, rewinding the footage a few seconds, getting frustrated with herself all over again.
Jaz leaned over to take a look. “You’re anticipating the slice too much,” Jaz observed. She traced the trajectory of the ball on her screen. “She’s baiting you. Look at her shoulder position before she even makes contact.”
Dani leaned closer, squinting at the image. She saw it then—the subtle tell, the almost imperceptible shift in her opponent’s posture. It was the kind of detail only someone who had spent years dissecting the nuances of the game, someone who knew the mental and physical chess match of professional tennis as intimately as she did, could pick up. That someone was right beside her, their legs intertwined, a shared blanket draped over their knees.
Training with Jaz has not only upped her game on the court but also all the things she had to do off the court to stay in peak condition and to compete with the best. Especially after her embarrassing loss in Cincinnati. She was seeing the ball quicker on returns, and her backhand had become even more of a weapon.
“Thanks, babe.” Dani had never dated another tennis player before. Jaz understood her world and what she was trying to accomplish. It was easy—refreshing—not having to argue about priorities or why she cared so much about a silly green ball. “This is nice.”
“What is?” Jaz paused her tablet and looked at Dani curiously.
She smiled and took Jaz’s hand in hers. “Just being here with you like this. Like, even though we’re working, it doesn’t feel like work, you know?” Her voice was thick with a contentment that had nothing to do with tennis and everything to do with the quiet intimacy of the moment.
“I get it.” Jaz opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. Dani squeezed her hands encouragingly and remained quiet until Jaz was ready to open up. “I see the world differently with you. Even though you play tennis, you make me think about things beyond tennis. Like I can have a life and be happy on and off the court.”
Dani leaned over and kissed her. Because she totally understood. Understood the sacrifices, the frustrations, and the fleeting moments of triumph that made up their shared world. There was no ego here, no competition, just two professionals, deeply in love, helping each other refine their craft.
It hit her at that moment. She was deeply in love with Jaz Mason.Holy fucking shit!Her whole body froze, including her lips on Jaz’s, at the realization.
Jaz pulled back and looked at her, eyebrows scrunched together. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good. Just thinking about what you said again about my backhand.” She knew Jaz would understand about your brain not shutting off tennis, particularly mistakes. Dani needed to deflect quickly because Jaz often read her like an open book, and shewasn’t ready for that conversation. “You have a pretty easy road to the finals, don’t you think?”
“I’m not looking too far ahead,” Jaz sagely replied. “One match at a time. Just focusing on the opponent in front of me. Though I do see one opponent is on the other side of the draw.”
She smirked. “I know. It’s a shame I’ll have to whip your ass in the finals.”
Jaz raised her eyebrows in challenge, with a level of confidence that turned Dani on. “You do remember the last time we played, right? And that was on my worst surface.”
“Well, I’m better now, thanks to this fantastic training and partnership I’ve been doing over the last seven months with the self-proclaimed greatest of all time.”
“Oh really?”
“Oh yes. She’s been teaching me so much. Like just the right place to position my hands.” Dani’s hands leaned over to squeeze Jaz’s thigh before snaking up her legs. Again, there was a constant urge to rip Jaz’s clothes off.
Jaz immediately picked her hand up and removed it from the inside of her thigh. So close to the spot that Dani longed to touch. “I really need to finish this.”
“I could finish you,” Dani shot back quickly.
“Even for you, that was lame and too easy.”
