Page 88 of Break Point
Smiling against my will, I untie the bow and open the box to find Henry’s tennis ball with theKwritten in blue ink. It’sthetennis ball.
My immediate reaction is to bring it to my lips and kiss it. I love this gift, but a part of me liked knowing he had it in his possession, that he had treasured it for so many years. It was a little piece of me he carried with him, something that would have always reminded him of me.
Until today, because it’s mine now.
I’ve been reluctant to kiss the ball as part of my NEHBLing ritual eversince Henry reminded me of the missingK. I’m too superstitious and obsessive about these things to risk making any changes.
If it ain’t broke, don’t kiss it.
My heart tightens as I set the ball and Henry’s handwritten card on the table. I know it’s hard for him to acknowledge his feelings, but the fact that he gave me this ball says more than he probably realizes. It means a lot.
That being said, I can’t help but still feel frustrated and angry at him. He’s been lying to me, and I hate it. He still couldn’t open up when I confronted him about his tennis career and shoulder yesterday. I’m almost positive he’s injured, even if he refuses to admit it.
Operation Theo is still in place for tonight. It sucks that I have to push Henry closer to the edge to get him to open up about his feelings, whatever those may be. I know this feat could backfire on me, but I’m willing to take that risk.
Since Henry returned, he’s been caught in this trancelike state, constantly oscillating between showing me glimpses of his usual self and retreating behind his walls. To say it’s been a rollercoaster would be an understatement. But whenever he looks at me with one of those warm smiles that wrinkles his eyes … I fucking melt.
I’ve been pretending to be okay with being just friends for months, and it’s wearing me down. Tennis has kept me centered, but learning that he applied to MIT makes me wonder if he’s only staying in New York because I made him promise he would. Going to MIT might be what he wants. If that’s the case, I can’t stop him. Not anymore.
Perhaps it’s time for Henry and me to part ways and embrace Tim McEnroe as my new coach. This would grant Henry the freedom to do whatever he wants with his life, not what he feels obligated to do.
All I could think about last night as I tossed and turned was how Henry had been fine back in Chicago and how it wasn’t a matter ofifbutwhenMIT accepted him. And I know he’s going to get in. He’s always been that rare mix of brains and athleticism. Any university would be lucky to have him.
I never imagined that thrashing my racket at the US Open would end up getting in the way of Henry’s future. It’s unsettling to think aboutwhat might have happened if I hadn’t done that and how far our actions ripple into other people’s lives.
From what I understand, Dad had been helping Henry and his mom financially since Mitch died, long before bringing him back into my life as my interim coach.
The immature part of me wants to make Henry squirm. He admitted to being jealous of Theo, and I can’t help but use that to provoke him. For months, it felt like nothing could move him, as if he were trapped in this cycle of intermittent indifference.
Until last night.
If he refuses to open up to me after tonight, I’ll be left with no choice but to step back. Because what if I got it all wrong and he doesn’t feel the same way about me?
What if I’ve misread every signal and he cares about me too much as a friend to hurt me with the truth? Maybe that’s why he won’t say anything. Why he’d rather stay in no man’s land, neither accepting nor denying his feelings.
If nothing else, I know he enjoys my company. But there’s always the possibility that he’s just not into me. It could be as simple as that. But then I remember the way he looked at me while I undressed and the fire in his eyes when he stormed out of my room yesterday, practically seething at the thought of Theo touching me.
And yet … it might be nothing more than his protective instincts.
These nagging thoughts kept me up all night. I barely got any sleep.
I’m exhausted.
Seeing my messy bed in the distance makes me want to crawl back in it and toss my plan to head down to the gym for a run out the window.
Fuck it. It’s my birthday.
I deserve a nap on my free day. The treadmill can wait.
Waking up to my alarm blaring an hour later makes everything feel like a blur. When I check my phone, my notifications screen is filled with messages from Dad, Drew, and Henry.
Drew: Happy birthday! How’s my favorite 18-year-old client doing? Congrats on your win yesterday. I couldn’t catch you after your match because I was coaching this new client for a press conference, but I met your dad and Henry for dinner and didn’t see you there.
Drew: Anyway, I hope you got some rest last night because I need you looking your best at the cocktail party tonight. Neel Ultex sent me a prepaid debit card for your birthday, and they specifically said you should use it to get yourself something nice to wear. Another gift from them will be delivered to your room during the day.
Hey, Drew! Thank you so much for the birthday wishes! :) I brought a few outfit options for the cocktail party, so I’m sure I’ll be fine. Could I use the money for something else?
Drew: Let me guess. Sunglasses? Ha! A little bird told me Liam’s in town and will be at the party tonight, so why don’t you wait for Gemma to arrive? I’m sure she’ll talk some sense into you. If the sponsor is pitching in 10k on a debit card, they expect you to be the best dressed tonight. Pretty sure the budget allows for a pair of sunglasses too. ;)
