Page 77 of Break Point
The ball’s fibers feel rougher than they should, worn and old despite looking barely touched.
“Kiss it.” Henry grins expectantly.
“Oh my God.” My eyes dart from the ball to Henry, then back again. I shake my head in disbelief. “Is this …?”
A small “K” in blue ink stares back at me.
“It is.” He laughs. “Now kiss it.”
I obediently bring the ball to my lips, pressing a soft kiss onto it.
“I can’t believe I forgot about the K.”
I run my thumb over it like it’s a relic. Like it’s proof we’ve always been us.
“You said NEHBLK sounded like a burp and a hiccup had a baby.”He laughs. “And then you told me it had no ‘branding potential.’ At eight.” He rolls his eyes at me like he’s reliving the moment. “That’s how you decided to call it the NEHBL instead.”
“Oh, God.” I hide my face behind my hands.
“You promised you’d never forget to kiss the ball, but you did.Wedid. I did, too, until I found it while packing for New York, and it all came rushing back.”
“You’ve kept it all this time?” I can’t stop marveling at the tennis ball, finally completing my ritual, and at Henry for holding onto it all these years. “It makes me feel like I can finally rule the world.” I laugh hysterically.
“How else were you planning to beat your mom’s US Open personal record next year?”
“Exactly!” I shout, then freeze.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“No, I … what I meant was?—”
“Cut the crap.”
I kiss the ball again and toss it back to Henry. So he’s caught me, so what? I can try to deny it, but that doesn’t make it any less true. That mad obsession is basically fueling this entire tennis operation on my end. It’s what keeps me going on my worst days. My deepest, darkest secret.
It’s borderline sick.
“I want to beat my mom’s US Open personal record by winning it before I turn nineteen.”
There. I said it.
Henry grins, shakes his head at me, and extends his hand. I take it, andhe pulls me into a tight, delicious hug. My eyes shut, soaking in the closeness, trying to hold onto this moment for as long as I can.
Henry tilts his head down, his breath warm against my ear as he whispers, “Muy, muy necia.”?1
1 Very, very stubborn.
CHAPTER 19
AUSTRALIAN OPEN
JANUARY 21, 2011
“YOU CRUSHED IT!”Dad shouts with a grin as I step off the court. “Congratulations!” He pulls me in for a tight hug.
Henry is standing right behind him, a proud look on his face. I grin, offering him a quick nod. I know I’ll hug him as soon as my dad lets go.
I want that hug.
