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“Sure,” I respond, knowing this might just give me the upper hand.
“Perfect!” he exclaims happily.
I throw on a sweatshirt and shorts over my bathing suit.
“I’m just going to go change in the prep room and I’ll meet you right out here.”
He nods. “It’s not like I would follow you.” He chuckles at the thought. “You only have twenty minutes, Blondie. Go get your cute little ass changed.” He sounds like a coach telling his players what to do.
Rolling my eyes, I give him a little wave and walk off.
Did he call my ass cute?
It has to be in a platonic way, right? He’s sometimes too friendly and it makes me question if I’m going crazy or if he’s feeling the same way I am. But at the same time, I don’t even know if I actually like him or if our close friendship is something I’ve never had with a guy before. I refuse to be that female friend and ruin this friendship. Men and women can be friends without any feeling involved.
So I interpret his words as him solely being Xavier.
The cheeky golden boy.
Chapter38
Violetta
“Let’s not get too close to the court.” I am hesitant for people to see me on the big screen or if I’m all over sports channels as a spectator for a known rival of mine. It’s a bit juvenile to call her that, but it’s true in a sense. For the last four years that I’ve grown my career and actually gotten far into championships, she takes those trophies away from me. The only tournament I’ve ever won was one she didn’t even compete in due to her injury from practice the day before.
My face has been in the tabloids with the headline:Will she ever beat Letty Davis?
When I first saw the article, I cried. Genuinely and literally bawled my eyes out for an hour. I don’t want to just be the girl who is good enough until she beats the best in the world. I may not be number one in the ranks, but I know how to hold a game of tennis. I might not be the Letty in capability, but I can stand by my effort and drive as I try to achieve my best self on the court.
“I didn’t buy these seats for nothing,” he says sternly.
I let out a frustrated sigh. I’m not frustrated at him; I’m annoyed that I even have to worry about being seen.
After all, he went out of his way to buy better seats than his pass permits him, he might have the best pass a spectator could get, but that doesn’t mean he gets front-row seats. People pay a pretty price to watch a match with Letty playing right in front of them.
A sense of jealousy rises yet again at the thought of Xavier wanting to watch my opponent in the front row. But that’s the appeal of her career. Everyone knows she’s great and they want to say that for themselves.
Up close and personal.
We sit down.
“Fuck, the sun is brutal,” he tells me with his eyes squinting as he attempts to look up.
“This is our Singapore,” I reply, knowing that the race is the most difficult in Formula One. Ale always complains about the prep going into it and how intense the humidity is.
He lets out a chuckle “Well, that means we’re in for a good sauna session.”
“It’s not bad when you’re watching, but when you’re playing, it’s hell,” I deadpan.
“Way to be such a lively human this wonderful Monday morning.” His tone isn’t upset, it’s amused.
“Sorry, I’m just stressed. I’m hoping this match will help me against her.” I point at Letty Davis as she walks out from underneath the stands. She’s hyper-focused, her posture so straight some would see it as uptight. I, on the other hand, having watched her every move for the last four years, know she’s confident.
She’s always confident, especially in the beginning rounds.
Her brown curly hair is tied back, and her dark skin is already glistening from sweat.
“Letty Davis, ranked number one on the women’s singles ranking, representing Apia, Samoa,” the umpire says in his posh British accent over the speakers. Everyone starts to clap at the mention of her name. Cheering isn’t really a thing in tennis until someone wins. Which in this instance will undoubtedly be Letty.
