The Trouble with Kissing Connor

Chapter 21 (Connor)

"I'm telling you Brett, she's perfect."

"Perfect? Is there such a thing?"

"Well, put it this way, she's perfect for me. She even knows what I'm going through, with the divorce."

"Really?" Brett stopped walking and looked genuinely surprised. "How?"

"Her parents went through it about 2 years ago."

"They did, did they?" Brett didn't sound convinced.

"I know what you're thinking, Brett but—"

"NO!" Brett stopped me with a hand to my chest. "Trust me, you have NO idea what I'm thinking right now. None. Nada."

"What does that mean?"

"Yo!" I felt a sudden and very hard slap on the back. It was Chase, and Tyler wasn't far behind. They always travelled together.

"You feeling ready for tomorrow?" Chase asked with a fat smile. It didn't take a psychologist to know that it was fake.

I returned the smile. Equally fake. "Totally. You guys?" It felt like we were doing some stupid male posturing thing, and judging by the look that washed over Brett's face, he thought so too. Let the pissing contest begin.

"How's that second serve of yours, hey?" Tyler asked in a mocking tone. Right now, with the scout coming, it was all about exploiting each other's weaknesses, and that was mine, and Tyler knew it.

"You'll just have to wait and see, won't you!" I grinned back. Behind my smile, I was thinking, ′I'm going to wipe the fucking court with you both'. They were probably thinking the same thing.

Chase turned his attention to Brett now. "You should come knock some balls around with us some time, buddy...." And then he did the unthinkable. He patted Brett's stomach just before he turned and swaggered off down the corridor.

I turned to Brett. "Sorry about that. They are such assholes." Brett just shrugged like he always did. I don't know how he could. No one should be okay with stuff like that.

"No worries," he reassured me. "Just fuck them both up tomorrow for me and win that trophy."

"I will," I said staring after them wondering why on earth I was even "friends" with them.

**

It was our last practice that afternoon and I stood at the baseline with a basket of balls hitting serve, after serve, after serve. I needed to get my second serve down. To be honest, though, I barely had to use it because, when my first serve went in, it was deadly. I've seen it push players so far off the baseline that they basically ran into the fence. And then I stopped serving all together and started down at the ball in my hand. I had trained so hard for this, for so many years. I had been building up to this moment my whole life and all because... I felt a tightness in my chest. The whole reason I'd started paying tennis was to spend more time with my dad growing up. He used to go to the tennis club every Saturday, and I'd always wanted to be with him. So I'd started playing tennis. I hadn't started because I enjoyed it, on the contrary, I'd actually hated it when I'd started, but I had been good at it. Surprisingly good. "It's in our genes," my dad had said.

Suddenly, that statement made me feel sick, I didn't want to be anything like my dad. I dropped my racket on the ground and walked off the court and went straight for my bag.

To: Yourmysterykisser@gmail.com

Message: So since you're at the same school as me, I guess you know there is a really important tennis tournament tomorrow. I was wondering if you would come and watch? I'd feel so much better if I knew you were there. I need a lucky charm.