I fucking love tennis with Harley. Always have. We’ve been a team ever since we were little kids, learning each other’s strategies, strengths, weaknesses. I know Harley, and she knows me inside and out. It’s the best feeling in the world to be able to think together on the court as a single being. It’s the closest I’ve ever been to someone. But I wanted to be closer.
How do you explain to the girl you’ve been in love with your whole life that the only way to be with her is to leave her?
The only reason I ever played tennis in the first place is because of Harley. She’s my best friend, and whatever she likes, I like. Once we started learning the sport and improving together, the court became our sanctuary. We’d talk about everything between games, let out all our frustrations and emotions on the clay, enter tournaments together. Through it all, we’ve always been inseparable.
Our parents thought it was cute when we were little, but as we got older and never parted ways, they just assumed we’d get married. It was a joke they loved to repeat in our presence. I never complained, though, because I secretly loved the idea. Being with Harley was like riding a wave. I just sat back and let her take charge.
But once we got to college, everything felt entirely different. Our future as tennis players seemed so real, and I wasn’t nearly as ready for it as Harley. We shot to the top quickly, set records, played our asses off. Harley kept talking about the future with a dedication and intensity that I didn’t feel, and I knew I could never match. It made me realize that going pro has always been her dream, but it was never mine. But if I’d been playing with Harley my whole life, what else could my goal possibly be?
I’d been wracking my brain for weeks, silently freaking out on the inside, wondering what the hell I wanted if tennis wasn’t it. Then one practice, it hit me.
There was nothing different about it. Harley was killing it on the court. We were playing on the same team, as always. I set her up so she could smash an ace right down the line. She executed it perfectly like my Harley always does, and when she turned to me, I was ready to give her a high five. But she came at me with this brightness, this love in her eyes, and instead of giving me a high five, she gave me a hug.
Now, I’ve hugged her a million times. Hell, I’ve showered with her (granted, when we were little), but something in that moment snapped me into the present, and the answer hit me like an ace to the face.
Tennis was never my dream. It’s always been Harley.
FWACK! The girl I’m madly in love with wins another serve against me. Damn distracting emotions!
It’s not like I give a fuck about losing my racket. I’d buy Harley a million new rackets, a thousand new outfits and shoes, as much gear as she ever wants. She hates me for leaving the team, but it’s the best thing I ever did. Now that we’re not teammates, I don’t have to keep my feelings for her a secret.
“Forty love,” she says from across the court.
Now that we’re not teammates, there’s no fear of ruining the good thing we had going.
Harley smacks the ball, and I return it with a newfound purpose, a strength inside me that lights me up from the soles of my feet to the energy brimming on top of my head. I follow the ball with my eyes, watching as it goes deep across the court and lands right in the corner of the baseline. Harley’s forehand has always been her weakness, especially when it’s deep.
She stretches as far as she can go and manages to touch the edge of her racket to the ball. It flies over the fence and gets caught in the strong ocean breeze.
Her mouth opens in a shocked little “o,” and I know I’ve got her.
Now that we’re not teammates, I’m going to make Harley mine.
Chapter Three
Harley
I did not just let him set me up like that. I bite the inside of my lip and switch to the left side of the court, knowing full well that the real reason I’m freaking out is not that Chris just won a point on me.
“Thirty fifteen,” I say, trying to keep my voice level.
How am I supposed to act right now? I wanted to punish Chris for leaving, to drag out my anger as long as I could, but as soon as he mentioned taking me on a date, electricity jolted my heart back to life.
I always wondered what it would be like if I revealed my true feelings for Chris. A part of me suspected he would return my feelings, but I’m still shocked as hell to know it’s true. And why now? What changed? One minute we’re best friends, the next he doesn’t talk to me for weeks, and suddenly he wants to take me on a date?
This whirlwind of thoughts courses through my brain, and before I realize it, Chris is walking toward my side of the court, ready to switch sides and start the next game.
Crap. I totally had that one in the bag! I feel so stupid for relinquishing an easy win, and for not saying a single thing after Chris dropped the whole “date” bomb. Chris must know I’m boiling with inner turmoil because he’s keeping quiet.
Thank God. He knows better than to talk to me right now. I'm so unstable, I’m not even sure if I'd hit him with my racket or hug him for days. The closer he gets to me, the harder my heart beats. I clamp my lips shut to prevent myself from saying anything stupid.
He steps close to me, only six inches away, and stares into my eyes. Is he going to kiss me? After all these years? Is he going to say something? Say something, I mentally plead.
“Ahem.” He’s holding his outstretched hand, waiting for me to give him the balls. It’s his serve now. Duh.
I pull the extra tennis balls from the spandex pocket in my tennis skirt and drop them in his hand. My breath catches at the absence of his touch, and I curse myself for being so emotional.
Chris bends over and takes a sip from the water fountain. His golden locks fall to the side of his face, and his back muscles are accentuated by the sweaty shirt stuck to his skin. His lean tennis body is so beautiful. All the way down past his perfect ass to his sock tan. I’ve never let myself really look before. But for God’s sake, he’s gorgeous. I find myself thinking that losing wouldn’t be so bad.
“Where do you want me to take you on our date?” A cocky grin tugs at the corner of Chris’s mouth. I hadn’t noticed he wasn’t drinking anymore. Oh great, how long was I staring at him?
“You mean, where should you go get drunk after I beat your ass and win your racket?” Take that, cocky asshole.
He just smiles back at me, something glinting in his eye. He’s loving this a little too much. “I know.” He leans forward and whispers conspiratorially, his hot breath sending chicken skin down my arms. “I’ll take you someplace nice, so you can wear that pretty sundress you like. You know the one, Harley.” The way he says my name with that gravelly, dark voice makes my knees weak. I’ve never heard that voice from him before. It’s raw and commanding and so damn sexy. “The one you wear on all your important dates. The one with the flower petals that wrap around the front, accentuating the perfect curves of your—”
I push him away with a huff and head for the other court, desperate to hide the blush spreading up my neck. I have no idea how to act anymore. And I can’t believe he mentioned that dress! I’d worn it so many times for date nights with other guys, each time asking Chris for his opinion before I left, secretly hoping he wished it were him going out with me instead.
I always imagined seeing a sparkle in his eye when I spun around to really show off every angle. I knew what I was doing, even if I never planned to act on it, but I never knew just how much of an effect I had on him.
The realization that he was feeling the same things for me this whole time has me wondering why I’m making such a fuss. We both want the same thing, which means it’s a win-win situation. So why not jump into his arms and let him have me right now?
“One zero, love all,” Chris calls across the court, preparing for his serve.
Oh, right. Because I can’t let Chris get away with quitting the team. Especially not since he expected I’d welcome him back with open arms. Chris is an idiot f
or thinking that a date with me would fix everything. He’ll only be taking me out if I lose.
Which is not going to happen.
I return his serve with topspin that could rival that of Maria Sharapova. The ball bounces high off the clay court, and Chris has to run for it. He manages to swing his racket far enough for his fancy orange strings to meet the fluffy green ball, but his attempt to send it to my forehand fails. Instead, the ball goes right to the middle of the court.
Nice try, Chris. He might know my weak spot, but I know his, too.
I race to the net and send the ball so far away from him there’s not a chance in hell he’d make it there even if he were wearing rocket shoes.
But he does.
Chris connects with my shot and sends the ball straight over my head, deep into the court.
“Fifteen love,” he smirks, slightly out of breath.
Okay, I underestimated him. But that won’t happen again.
The next few points unfold similarly, with both of us sending soaring shots as far away from each other as we can, trying to outsmart one another, using all our inside knowledge against each other. The thing is, I know Chris, and he knows me so well that it’s impossible to get an edge. This battle between the two of us for a single point lasts forever.
And I absolutely love it.
It feels so good to be back on the court with Chris. I still don’t know why he quit the team, or why he came back determined to take me on a date after all this time, but I push those thoughts aside and focus on the pure adrenaline and joy of being on this court with him.
The way he moves, the way he knows me better than anyone else makes me want to capture this moment in a bottle. Who knows if this is the last time we’ll play each other? How we got here is a mystery to me, and what happens after tonight is just as well. All I know is Chris is back, at least for now, and I’m not going to let this night end without a fight.
Chapter Four
Harley
It feels like hours have passed by the time I win the second game, tying it one to one. I’m breathless and panting and sweating like a pig. Chris has got my number, sure, but I’ve got his, too.
“Shit, Harley.” Chris holds a hand up, signaling me to wait on my serve until he gulps down another gallon of water from the fountain. He wipes the water from his lips with the back of his hand and steps back to the baseline. “If it takes us this long for someone to win each game, we’ll be here for the next week and a half.”
“Fine by me. I won’t stop ‘till I beat you into the ground, Chris.”
He flashes me a grin so bright I almost go blind. I blink away the stars in my vision and the urge to drop everything and run into his arms right now. Focus, Harley.
I toss the ball and head into the next game. Each ferocious hit, each time I let my energy out on that poor little green ball, I become lighter and lighter. Soon I’m actually smiling and laughing at Chris’s flirty jeers. My hurt and hate have died down enough to finally let me have some fun.
I return his cocky goads with some good-natured insults of my own. Taunting Chris has always been second nature to me. And by the way it fires him up, I can tell he’s loving this as much as I am. It feels fantastic to play with him again, to be in that familiar rallying rhythm that we’ve been playing since childhood. He’s as much a part of me as I am of him.
Before I know it, we’re at deuce, his advantage. Chris tosses the ball and gives a wallop of a serve. Right when I extend my arm to deliver the return of his life, the court lights go out, casting everything in moonlight. My muscles continue through the shot as planned, but the ball flies far above the net, catching in the ocean breeze.
“Yes!” Chris raises his arms in triumph. The silvery light of the stars reflects on his blonde hair as he saunters over to the net, a cocky grin on his face. “That was one hell of a match,” he says, still breathing heavily. “Better than when we played the Gail twins at Hanson last year.”
I ignore the fond memory and stomp to meet him at the net. “It’s not fair, the lights went out.”
“So? I didn’t turn them off.”
“Doesn’t matter, I demand a redo,” I say.
“You can’t have a re-do.” Chris grins. “That would be cheating.”
I roll my eyes. “Chris, come on. We’ll redo the last point, it’s fine.”
“No, it's not, because I know how you like to make a comeback. I won, and I’m taking you out on a date.”
I cross my arms like a pouting child, even though his statement has me so excited I can barely see straight. I’m arguing purely for the sake of arguing now. “No, we’re not going out.”
“You can’t turn back now,” Chris says. “We shook on it.”
“I take it back.”
Chris presses his lips together in a thin line. The muscles of his jaw are working overtime, and for a moment, I wonder if he’s going to yell at me.
“Fine,” he says. “At least shake my hand.” He holds his hand out, just above the net for me.
I jut my jaw out, annoyed. Shaking hands after a match is such a stupid rule. But Chris knows how much I hate a sore loser. I won’t give him the satisfaction of turning me into one. I sigh and give him the most immature, sloppy, weak handshake I can muster.
He grabs my hand with a firm grip and yanks me toward him. I almost trip, but he catches me in his other arm.
I try to wriggle out of his iron hold, but it’s no use. “Let go, Chris. You’re not funny—"
But his lips find mine before I can finish my sentence.
Chapter Five
Chris
Harley tastes like a dream. Sweet from her grapefruit chap stick and salty from the sweat on her upper lip. I take her soft lips in mine and relish the sensation. She lets out a light moan, and it makes my heart flutter like a goddamn little girl. I run my hands through her hair, across the thin sheen of salt on her chin. It feels so good to have her in my arms. Just when I tell myself I won’t let her go again, Harley abruptly pulls away.
Her eyes are wet and rimmed with red. The moon highlights a trail of tears running down her cheeks.
“I don’t understand, Chris. Why did you leave me?” Her body goes stiff, and I can feel she’s bracing herself against me. Fuck, I really screwed this up. I’m such an idiot for thinking I could just walk away like a selfish prick and expect her to be on the same page as me when I got back. Sure, I had to figure it out on my own time, but I didn’t even consider what I’d put Harley through while I’d been gone.
“I was an idiot for leaving without warning,” I say, eager to make things right between us. “I knew I needed to leave, but I was afraid and unsure, and I knew that you’d be so mad that you wouldn’t talk to me.”
She rolls her eyes, still facing the ocean. “That’s exactly what happened, idiot.” Her words hold sass, but she hasn’t wrestled out of my grip yet, so that’s a good sign.
“Yeah, I see that now.”
“It wouldn’t have been that way if you had just talked to me.” Harley turns to me finally. “You still haven’t explained why you left. You’re my best friend, Chris. You know I would understand.” She looks at me expectantly, her eyes glossy. I hate seeing her hurt, and knowing that I’m the one who hurt her. I want to make it right, cuddle her forever, hold her to my chest, and smell her flowery shampoo.
“Harley, Tennis is your dream, but you’ve always been mine.”
Harley sucks in a shocked little breath. Her lips part slightly, and her eyes dart between mine as she struggles to form words.
“I’ve always been in love with you, Harley. I couldn’t stay on as your doubles partner any longer because it was keeping me from being with you in the one way I’ve wanted more than anything. I love being by your side on the court, but I want to be by your side through everything else, too.”
She bites her lip. I can see the gears turning in her head. If she doesn’t feel the same for me, then I just screwed this up royally, and for good. I wait silently f
or her response, searching her face for any hint as to what might come next.
“You’re right,” she says, more to herself than to me. She’s sorting it out logically, first. I smile, but she doesn’t see. Classic Harley. Always focusing on the business of things, making sure it all makes sense before taking action. It’s one of the reasons why I love her. “We’ve been doubles partners for so long that it felt wrong to go into the next stage without you, but…” Tears well in her eyes again. I cup her face in my hand.
“I’ll still be by your side, if you let me.”
She smiles for the first time tonight, and it melts all the tension in my body. Harley nods, unable to speak just yet. She kisses me tenderly, and I wrap her in an embrace, the smell of sweat and ocean and her shampoo intoxicating me. It feels like home to have her back in my arms, to give her the kiss I’ve always wanted to give her. She’s been here all my life, and I couldn’t have her.
Until now.
I squeeze her tight, run my hands down her back, part her mouth with my lips, and probe with my tongue until she lets me in. She’s hesitant at first, but soon her tense muscles relax, and Harley reciprocates my fervent need with an intense passion of her own.
I relish the sensation of her skin on my fingertips as I run my hands down her neck, her shoulders, the lean muscles in her arms. Her shape is so familiar to me, seared in my brain, yet touching her like this feels as if I’m exploring uncharted waters. This was forbidden for so long. I trace the outline of her breast with my thumb, running over her nipple, which is hard as a diamond.
She gasps at the touch, then jumps back into our kiss with an intense need. Harley wraps her arms around me, pulls me close, lifts her leg as if she wants to wrap herself around my body. I grab her muscular thighs and pull her up onto me, as close as I can get her, forgetting all about the net between us.
Tempt University: Year One: A College Romance Collection Page 5