Page 145 of Through the Flames
The rhythm was hypnotic, like a drumbeat I couldn’t escape and didn’t want to.
Hunter’s schedule was the same, only magnified with football devouring every second of his life until I wasn’t sure how he even remembered to breathe.
He would come home with the scent of grass and sweat clinging to his hoodie, mixing with the faint tang of liniment cream he rubbed into his knees.
One night, I flopped across the bed, tangling my hair over his shoulder. “You smell like a locker room,” I teased, nudging him with an elbow.
He didn’t flinch. His gaze was sharp, calculating. “I’m aware,” he said evenly. “And?”
“And?” I grinned, wiggling closer. “You could at least try showering before you roll in here.”
He lifted an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly. “I could. But then I wouldn’t have an excuse to convince you to get dirty with me, so the cleaning up is really worth it.”
Heat prickled my skin. “Uh, that’s dangerously specific,” I said, laughing despite myself.
“Efficient,” he corrected, fingers brushing deliberately over my arm. “Strategic.”
A minute later, his eyes were already drifting shut. With a soft smile, I brushed the hair out of his forehead and smoothed the line between his eyebrows, which never really wanted to disappear, out with my thumb.
But even in the middle of it all, his devotion to me never wavered.
If anything, it intensified.
Tennis consumed me in the best way possible. With every match, I felt my confidence grow, my goals become clearer, and my passion intensify. When I hit a clean forehand, the air shifted, and for a second, the world narrowed to the ball, my racket, and the steady rhythm of my breath.
None of this would have been possible without Hunter, though. He created a space for me to focus, shielding me from distractions and pushing me without crowding me. He made it possible for me to dedicate myself fully to the sport.
In turn, seeing me rise, excel, and fight for every point made him steadier, sharper, like we were both lifting each other up without saying it aloud.
The facility near campus became my second home. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, rubber mats squeaked beneath my sneakers, and the sharp crack of ball on stringsechoed like a pulse, almost like it had been waiting for me all along.
My days started early. By the hundredth serve, my shoulder felt like it had molten lead running through it. My calves quivered, the court slick with sweat, strings snapping in relentless rhythm.
Some days, I trained alone, and the ball machine’s mechanical cough greeted me like an old friend, spitting round after round into my racket, a rhythm I didn’t resist. My arm rose and fell, shoulder burning, calves quivering, lost in the cadence of repetition.
Other days, I rallied with teammates, and every exchange was a test of endurance. Balls flew like bullets, and I learned to read spin by instinct.
I gritted my teeth, chest heaving, sweat dripping into my eyes, and swung like I could carry him on every stroke, every point a promise.
School felt like a chore by comparison. Every single one of my lectures dragged as the professors droned on, and every assignment felt like sand slipping through my fingers.
I forced myself to push through, partly out of stubbornness, partly because I’d promised myself I’d finish. But my heart wasn’t in it.
On the court, I was alive.
In the classroom, I was merely surviving.
And every day, the gap between those truths widened.
By winter, the thought of the Australian Open lingered in the corners of my mind, impossible to ignore.
The words floated in my head, a soundtrack of possibility, reminding me of what I wanted.
And Iwantedit. Not for the fame or the trophies, but because it was a stage where everything I’d worked for could matter.
A place where I could measure myself against the best, where the energy of the crowd and the pressure of every point would demand my absolute everything.
The hurdles loomed, too. I had to balance school, training, and travel; navigate the politics of sponsors and rankings; and stay grounded as the world started to take notice of me.
