Page 5 of A Follow-Through in Faking
Catalina glares at me, her full, heart-shaped lips turning down as she watches me approach.
“I’ve changed my mind. You can quit as my coach. Nothing is worth this.”
Papá merely chuckles as he struts toward my new hitting partner. He bends down to give her a hug, and she smiles up at him in a way she’s never looked at me, ever.
“Alright, Santi, you can do this. It’s just one season.”
My pep-talk doesn’t help me at all.
“Hola,cabrón,” she greets me.
She’s called me that for as long as I can remember.
“Hola,mariquita,” I reply, standing in front of her with an easy smile and trying to ignore the summery scent coming off her because it’s intoxicating.
It always has been.
“I hope you’re able to keep up with me. I’m not going to take it easy on you,” she says, throwing her large, oval tennis bag over her shoulder and moving toward the court. Catalina doesn’t wait for me to follow, she simply expects it, and something about that already pisses me off.
Deep breaths.
One season.
“Nice to see you again, Charlie,” I mumble as I pass by them, actually meaning the words because Charlie is really cool. I met them three years ago at a party where they were chugging down beer while doing a handstand. They told me after they had a headache for weeks to come, but that it was worth it.
“Nice to see you too, handsome,” they reply with a small grin. “Happy to be here?” they add as we follow Catalina to the first court.
“Fucking ecstatic,” I say and drop my bag next to Cata’s black one.
She’s already stretching, trying to warm up while I get hypnotized by her. Her arms lift over her head, showing off the toned muscles there before bending over to touch her toes.
Holy hell.
I quickly look away because nope. I’m not doing this. I’m not admiring her for a second longer. She’s irritating, no matter how breathtaking I’ve always found her, every part of her.
Especially the scowl she directs at me all the time.
“Are you going to stand around all day or warm up, too?” Catalina asks without even turning around.
“Don’t you think we should go over the rules of our agreement before starting our training?” I ask, rolling my shoulders to wake up my rotator cuffs. Then, I move on to my hips, arms, and knees, waiting for a response fromla reinaas she takes her sweet time.
“I thought this was supposed to be for us to bond. You know, play some tennis, have a friendly competition, that kind of shit,” she says as she faces me again, seemingly done with her stretches.
“Do you honestly think we’d ever be able to bond or have afriendlycompetition?” I ask and cross my arms in front of my chest. Her eyes drift to my forearms, so I flex them a little morefor her with a grin. She rolls her eyes but blushes as her gaze drifts to something behind me.
“How about this: if I win, I get to make seventy-five percent of the rules. If you win, you get to make twenty-five percent. Deal?” I frown at her as soon as the words have left her captivating mouth.
“Seriously?” A smirk curls the right side of her lips.
“Caught that, didn’t you? Huh. Sometimes I forget you’re not as stupid as you look.” Charlie bursts into laughter before slapping a hand over their mouth to stop themself.
“Winner makes a hundred percent of the rules, deal?” I offer, extending my hand for her to shake, a mirror image of Papá’s and my agreement a few days ago.
“You’re going down,cabrón,” she says, ignoring my hand and taking her racket instead.
I can’t help but chuckle a little.
We’ve played against each other more times than I could count. In tennis, people often think men and women shouldn’t play against each other in matches for money because it would be unfair.
