Chances for Serendipity

by Natalie Chung

  “Go ahead. Take as many as you want. It’s your birthday.”

  He grabbed one of the sugar cookies and bit into it, nodding in approval. “Yum. This is the best cookie ever.” He took a few more bites and licked his fingers clean. “Oh yeah! Are you going to play tennis with us too?”

  I was so pleased by his compliment that it took me a few seconds to take in his question. “Uhhh…” Embarrassing myself in front of kids who were half my age wasn’t exactly what I had planned for my weekend, but Isaac’s pleading eyes didn’t make it easy for me to refuse him. “I don’t know…”

  Isaac’s smile turned into a pout.

  “Geez, Serry, you wouldn’t want to disappoint the birthday boy, would you?” Aiden teased.

  Oh great, did they both have to guilt-trip me like that? Playing with me would only result in a big blunder, like me accidentally hitting someone. Really. You’d think Aiden of all people would know what I was capable of. “I think I’m better off just watching.”

  Apparently that wasn’t a good enough answer for Aiden. “Come on, Sere. Don’t be like that.” He snaked an arm over my shoulders, pulling me closer to him. I almost jumped at the warmth of his breath on my ear. “What if I challenge you?”

  I stiffened, my heart suddenly accelerating to twice its usual speed. I worked my jaw, but the words in my head wouldn’t come out of my mouth. With barely any space between us, it was a miracle I could think at all. So I did the only thing I could—I extracted myself from his hold.

  As soon as I was safely outside of his grasp, I frowned. “You really like your challenges, don’t you?”

  One side of his mouth quirked up. “What can I say? They’re addictive. And don’t forget that you”—he nudged my arm playfully—“started it all off by challenging me.”

  Goosebumps sprouted on my skin where he’d touched me. “Uh-huh.” I was beginning to regret starting that challenge now. Though my childhood was filled with memories of Max and I challenging each other, we barely did it nowadays. He usually only issued one whenever he saw the opportunity to see me fail and wanted to get something out of it as an added bonus.

  For Aiden, these felt more like ways for him to get me to do what he wanted, while I got something out of it too. Almost like a strange, forced compromise. I shouldn't have been falling into the trap of taking them, but in the end, my curiosity got the better of me. “What’s this challenge then?”

  “It’s simple. We play Isaac’s tennis game,” he said. “You get one personal-question ticket from me if we win.”

  Now that got my attention. “Really?” Normally I would say winner bribes didn’t work on me, but Aiden sure knew how to play his cards right.

  I turned to the birthday boy who’d been watching us with a confused crinkle between his eyebrows. “Okay, Isaac. Count me in.”

  “She’ll be on my team,” Aiden added.

  “Yes! Awesome!” Isaac pumped his fist and took off running to the backyard, no doubt to spread the good news to all his tennis buddies.

  As for me, I’d count it as good news if I made it through this without thoroughly embarrassing myself.

  Chapter 19

  A few minutes later, we were outside with the blinding sunlight bearing down on us. I adjusted my sunglasses. Good thing the bright glare wouldn’t factor into any mistakes I made. Or was that a bad thing? I no longer had anything to point the blame at for any slip ups I made, except my own lack of skill. Oh well, too late.This is it, I thought as his larger hand encompassed mine. By the New Year, I’d make sure Aiden Andale would have decided not to quit tennis. Hypocrite or not, this was one thing I could live my life not regretting.

  “The rules are like normal tennis, but we added in two extra. Rule one is that all of this grass counts as the court. So any ball that lands on the grass is fine, as long as it goes over the net first,” Isaac explained to us. Made sense since we didn’t have a proper court with painted lines.

  “Rule two is everyone has to participate and take turns hitting the ball. You can’t take your partner’s hit when it’s their turn. We’ll continue in whatever order we hit in first, and no changes.” Uh-oh. That was not good for me. I couldn’t rely on Aiden to carry the game. “First team who can’t hit the ball before it bounces twice or doesn’t hit in the right order, loses.”

  “Sounds good,” Aiden said. “Let’s play.”

  After quickly slapping on some sunscreen and borrowing a spare racket from Isaac, Aiden and I stood on one side of the mini net. Isaac and one of his friends, Paul, were on the other end, legs spread wide and squatting in receiving positions. Ready and raring to thrash my unskilled butt. My only saving grace was that the pro tennis player was on my side. Thank goodness.

  And that was all I had time to be thankful for, because Aiden took his serve then. Clearly he didn’t have the same reservations as I did about losing to a bunch of eleven-year-olds.

  At the mere thought of losing, my mind suddenly chose to remember something important—Aiden never told me what his prize would be if I failed this challenge. What if he got another personal-question ticket? My stomach churned in dismay at the possibility, but it was too late to ask now. The game had already started.

  Right after Aiden served, Isaac caught the ball cleanly on his racket and sent it flying over to me.

  I rushed to the ball, swinging my racket with no real aim other than to get it across the net—which I barely did. Isaac’s friend effortlessly returned the ball.

  Yep, I was definitely the only tennis noob in this makeshift grass court.

  I watched as the ball went back and forth between players, steeling myself for my next turn. It happened faster than I could blink. With a squelch of sneakers on artificial grass, I pivoted at the incoming ball, letting it rebound off my racket strings at the right angle. A shudder reverberated through my arm, and I silently cheered at my success. Yes, a good shot!

  This went on for some time, and we settled into a smooth rhythm. Aiden, Isaac, me, Paul, then back to Aiden. I wasn’t lulled into a false pretence of it being easy—because it definitely wasn’t, despite the three of them making it look effortless—but I did relax a bit whenever I knew the ball wasn’t coming for me next. Which was a big mistake on my next turn.

  I reacted too slowly with my shot, resulting in a lame, giant lob. It sailed up in the shape of a rainbow at a snail-like speed, giving Paul enough time to get into a prime position to counterattack. He tilted his head up, racket pulled back, ready to smash the ball over.

  This was it. Game over. But then he squinted against the sunlight, and when he swung, the ball made contact with his racket frame—and flew straight at Aiden.

  Aiden didn’t even flinch. Like the pro he was, he shuffled back and shifted his racket behind him, catching the ball between his legs.

  A tweener? I’d never seen him do something like that in a real match.

  Isaac yelped, lunging for the ball as it clipped the top of the net. He got it just before it made its second bounce. I watched as the ball soared high, toward the veranda behind us.

  Wait. Was that going in or out? Crap.

  I broke off into a run. All that existed in that moment was me and that ball.

  It had already reached the peak of its arc and was now falling. Fast.

  The ball hit the grass, bouncing up again.

  I pumped my inactive legs for all they were worth. The soft grass beneath my feet transitioned into much harder concrete, pounding against the soles of my sneakers.

  As the ball made its quick descent back to the ground, I dove for it, arm outstretched. The ball rebounded off my racket with a satisfying twang. I flung my arm up overhead, directing it back toward the net.

  And then I crashed onto the concrete like the complete noob I was.

  Lungs heaving, I breathed in and out in raspy gasps. Luckily, my arms had broken the fall. Though my hands ached, I moved to push myself off the ground. But that was when I felt it—a throbbing pain in my knee. My legs buckled,
refusing to allow me to stand back up. What in the—?

  Releasing my hold on my racket, I clamped my hands over the sharp stinging. Something wet soaked my fingers. I already guessed what it was before I pulled my hand away. Blood.

  I hissed through my teeth.

  “Crap. Are you okay?” Aiden called. He ran the short distance much faster than I had and dropped down beside me.

  “Yeah, I’m okay. I just scraped and bruised my knee.”

  “Let me see.”

  Slowly, I repositioned myself so that I sat on the concrete with my hurt leg facing up. I squeezed my eyes shut, teeth clenched in a bid to suppress the biting pain. Damn, that hurt.

  “Is Serry okay?” Isaac asked anxiously.

  A feather-light touch brushed my skin near the injury. “Yeah. She should be okay. But we should get you fixed up inside.”

  “Okay.” I cracked my eyes open to find him staring at me intensely. Hopefully the dumbfounded look on my face was partially covered by my sunglasses. “Just—let me get up.”

  “No, stay still. I’ve got you.” He wound an arm under my legs and his other around my back, scooping me up and slowly rising to his feet.

  “Wh-what are you doing?” I squeaked out, squirming against his chest. “It’s okay! I can walk!” My embarrassment seeped into my voice, making me sound too high-pitched. Too flustered.

  Aiden’s arms tightened around me. “Don’t worry. It’ll be easier this way. You can’t walk properly in that condition.”

  Yeah, okay, he had a point. But I couldn’t ignore the fact that he was carrying me across the porch and into the house, bridal style.

  Bridal. Style. My brain fizzled out until only those two words occupied it. Every part of my body tingled at his touch, my heart hammering like it was furiously pounding dough. I closed my eyes again, unable to take it anymore, my mind threatening to drown within these overwhelming feelings.

  I heard the glass door sliding, followed by Aiden mumbling, “Thanks.”

  At the sound of a feminine gasp, I wrenched my eyes open again.

  We were inside now. Rose stood beside us. Her eyes zoned in on my injured knee. “Oh no. I’ll get the first aid kit.”

  “Thanks, Rose.” Aiden’s chest rumbled against me as he spoke. “Can you get a clean cloth and some bottled water too?”

  “Sure thing, dear.” She hurried off in a flutter of skirts.

  Aiden crossed the living room and eased me down onto the sofa. Feeling like everything was too dim inside with my sunglasses, I took them off, folding them over the neckline of my dress. From here, I had an unhindered view of the backyard.

  Isaac stared in our direction. The poor guy looked like he’d accidentally kicked a puppy. He didn’t deserve to feel bad on his birthday for my own misfortune. Fuelled by my guilt, I gave him two thumbs up and yelled out, “Go win your next game.”

  I wasn’t sure if he heard me, but his face morphed into that of surprise, and he curled his arms up around his head to form an O for okay. Turning his attention back to his group of friends, they got into positions to play again.

  Good. That was one problem I could fix at least.

  The sofa dipped, jostling me and evoking a twinge of pain from my knee—a stark reminder of the other problem I couldn’t fix myself. I swivelled my head to see Aiden now sitting beside me.

  “Nice work out there,” he said. “I mean, if you don’t include the injury, I think we did a good job.”

  “It was fun,” I admitted, because I honestly hadn’t expected it to be. Why would I, when I was so out of shape and not a natural at tennis? “But is it sad that we were super competitive against eleven-year-olds?”

  “No,” he answered easily. “Those kids were good. Real good. They had the potential to beat us.”

  Well if a pro tennis player thought that, it made me feel better. “Imagine the headlines,” I said. “Eleven Year Olds Beat Aiden Andale in a Backyard Match.”

  He threw his head back and let out a loud chortle.

  Seeing his carefree laugh, and knowing I was the one who caused it…an indescribable ache burrowed its way through me, one that wasn’t coming from my knee. All I knew was that I needed to see him laugh more like that.

  “It’s a good thing we won that one,” he wheezed out, “or that would’ve ruined my image.”

  No way. “We won? How?”

  “Your ball made it just over the net, and Isaac didn’t expect it. But everyone was more shocked at you on the ground to care about the game anyway.”

  “Okay, then. Scratch that headline out. You can keep your good public image.”

  Aiden chuckled. “Thank goodness. In that case, the headline will have to be much more clickbaity.” His eyebrows drew together in a moment of silent thoughtfulness. “Girl Who Once Hit Aiden Andale in the Head Bleeds Her Way to Victory.”

  We both cracked up in a fit of laughter as Rose returned.

  “What’s so funny?” She placed all the items he’d asked for onto the sofa next to him.

  “Nothing,” we said in chorus, like it was a scripted line we’d practiced together.

  She glanced between the two of us, looking sceptical.

  Aiden cleared his throat and straightened himself up. “Thanks, Rose. I’ll take it from here.”

  “What a gentleman.” She beamed. “You better patch up Sere so she’s in tip-top shape to work at the bakery, or the whole suburb will be screaming for lack of buns.”

  “You got it,” he said and, with that assurance, Rose left us on our own.

  After inspecting the items Rose had gathered and finding them acceptable, Aiden unscrewed the drink bottle and drenched the towel with water. “This may sting a bit.”

  “Well, it’s already stinging.” I flashed him a reassuring smile, but it was gone the instant I felt the damp towel on my wound.

  Ouch. I bit back a groan. Before might have stung, but this stung more.

  I sucked it up, watching Aiden expertly set about thoroughly washing the wound. “All done,” he declared when he’d finished taping gauze over it.

  “Thanks. I’ll live another day.” I bent my leg experimentally up and down. Not bad, so long as it didn’t prevent me from working tomorrow. “Guess I can’t play anymore, though.” Not that I was too sad about that.

  Aiden batted his hand in dismissal. “You had your glory. Now we can watch the birthday boy have his.”

  And so we did. Isaac was, no joke, quick on his feet. Winning one off him had definitely been a big fluke. “Do you think he has the potential to play professionally?” I asked Aiden.

  “He could,” he said. “But it might’ve been better if he’d started training professionally a bit earlier. I’m not sure if he would want that anyway.”

  That was a weird thing to say. Why wouldn’t Isaac want it, if given the chance? He was crazy about tennis. Unless… “Did you not want that?” Because I got the distinct sense he wasn’t talking about Isaac anymore.

  He turned to face me, his eyes searching mine. “Are you using that as your personal question?”

  “No!” I wasn’t going to waste my precious question on something I’d already guessed. “I take the question back!” I waved my hands frantically at him.

  He chuckled. “What did you want to ask then?”

  I sucked on my bottom lip in contemplation. “I haven’t had much time to think of a question yet.” It still hadn’t sunk into my head that we’d actually won. “Give me a minute.”

  While I continued watching Isaac play with various tennis friends, I pondered. What did I want to know about Aiden? Or more specifically, what did I want to know so I could help him change his mind about quitting tennis? Because, after everything I’d learned about him today and the other day, that was all it came down to.

  I didn’t want Aiden Andale to quit tennis.

  It was like some instinctive part of me insisted I stop this from happening. He might come to regret it if he quit. If not, then I wanted to at least know why h
e would even think of retiring so early in his career.

  “You said before that you have a love-hate relationship with tennis. Does it count as my question if I ask you to name all the reasons why you hate it?”

  He eyed me warily. “Why do you want to know?”

  I wet my lips, drawing upon all the courage I had within me. I didn’t know if he would get annoyed like last time, but if there was a chance in convincing him, I would take it. “I was curious about it, that’s all. You’re so secretive to the public.” And I don’t want you to be secretive to me too.

  His throat bobbed. Once. Twice. “Fair enough,” he finally said, nodding. His eyes bored into mine, swimming with unsaid emotions. Curiosity. Doubt. A hint of fear? “Yeah. That can count as your question.” He let out a loud, ragged breath. “This may sound weird, but I feel like I’m having a mid-life crisis at the age of twenty-three. Just…” He opened his palms and stared at them, as if they could provide him with a solution to all his problems.

  “Just?” I urged him.

  “It’s just…tennis took away any opportunity for me to have a normal life. And I know you said it’s not always a good thing when things are normal, but for me, that’s not the case. It isn’t always a good thing when things aren’t normal either. If that makes any sense.”

  “I kind of get it.” Being constantly in the public eye, he probably didn’t get much peace if people recognised who he was. Being a professional also meant all his time and energy went into the sport. “But my personal question ticket was asking you to list each reason why, not give me a general summary.”

  “Hah, you’re not making this question easy for me, are you?” His lips pressed together in a thin line. “First reason, I guess, is that tennis is all I’m good at.”

  “That’s definitely not true.” Uh, how about his memorisation skills and ability to learn quickly? “But go on. That’s one.” I raised a finger to count.

  His face scrunched up. “I’m paid well,” he started, “but…don’t take this the wrong way. I’m grateful for it, but I feel like money can’t buy happiness.”