Page 50 of A Follow-Through in Faking
All I have to do is win my service game to win the match, and I’ve been saving some of my energy in my serve for this very point in the match.
I ace my first serve.
I ace my second.
My third is a short rally because Blake hardly gets to my ball, and I run to the net to volley it to the opposite side of the court from him.
Forty-love.
I need one more point.
It’s me who risks a time violation now, but I need the extra seconds to prepare myself for this serve. I’ve been sending all of my other ones wide in the last three points, and I attempt the same now, but it goes out.
Fuck.
There are two ways I can play this now. I could risk it and serve my second serve at the same speed I did my first, surprising Blake. Or I could play it safe and hit it slower, as one usually would.
But I’ve never been one to play it safe, especially not when I have such a lead.
This time, I aim for the center line, and with the speed of it and the placement, Blake is too surprised to reach it.
I win with a fucking ace.
Dropping to my knees, a sound of victory, utter exhaustion, and relief bursts out of me, echoing through the arena before the rest of the people explode into cheers. My gaze flies across the court, right back to Catalina, where she is punching the air with her fist, screaming for me.
I don’t hesitate. I run to the net, jumping over it and briefly shaking Blake’s hand—we have to do this before we do anything else for sportsmanship—before moving to the umpire as well. I drop my racket, only half paying attention while throwing my wrist sweatbands and the balls I had in my pocket to the crowd because I’m fixated on getting to my team.
To Catalina.
It takes me too long. I’m climbing over seats, a new burst of adrenaline giving me energy I didn’t have before. Security tries to keep the people away from me, but I’m too fast for the crowd anyway.
I need to get to her.
A sigh of relief escapes me as I reach my box, and arms immediately wrap around me from my physio and doctor, then follow Mamá’s and Papá’s. I hug them back, even though my goal is still to reach Cata. I squeeze my parents once more, then Manu, before finally stepping back and moving around them to step in front of her.
I expect it to be awkward, for us to stand together and stare at each other, but Catalina surprises me as she flings her arms around me, hugging me.
“I’m so sweaty,” I say, tears stinging my eyes because Cata is hugging me again right after I’ve won a grand slam, and there is hardly anything sweeter.
“I don’t care,” she replies, her fingers sliding onto the top of my nape to grip the hair there. “I’m so proud of you.”
“So proud you could finally kiss me?” I ask, making her snort into my ear. She tries to step back, but I’m not ready yet. I hold onto the back of her shirt, then push her closer by the small of her back. Her chest flush against mine.
“Santi,” Catalina says, and I realize she probably wants me to back away, so I attempt to step away when she suddenly reaches for my wrist, pulling me back toward her. “Fuck it,” she mumbles right before stealing my breath.
Cata’s hands find my cheeks, pulling my face down to hers and then she’s kissing me.
Catalina is kissing me.
Oh my God,my Catalina is kissing me.
Her mouth finds mine and the crowd explodes into even more cheers, but they slowly fade away in my head as I taste my fake girlfriend for the first time. Well, as much as I can taste her with only her lips on mine. I push my tongue a little against her lips, looking for permission, and if I had the strength to pull away, I’d beg for it.
But I don’t have to because Cata’s lips part as soon as she feels my tongue. It’s a slow kiss, the kind I hope gives her as many butterflies as it gives me. My hands move to her back, holding her as I kiss her longer, deeper.
This is the kind of kiss that sends someone to another dimension.
The kind of kiss you dream about but never think you will actually have.
