Chances for Serendipity

by Natalie Chung

  He passed me the phone. It was open on a messenger app in a conversation with ‘Dad’. The first few messages on the screen dated back two weeks ago.

  Dad: Where are you right now? Have you come to your senses yet?

  Ignoring me won’t make the problem go away. You can’t just quit now.

  Tell your mum she’s a bad liar. I know you’re with her.

  Aiden: I can and I will ignore you until you admit you were wrong. Leave Mum out of this.

  Dad: You know I did the right thing with Mike. He was a bad influence on you. Keep your eyes on the prize. You’ve lost sight of your goals.

  You better be keeping up with your training. Everything is sorted for January. I’ll see you then.

  I took a moment to analyse the texts, surprise overtaking me and slowly morphing into anger by the end. “Your dad is a jerk. What did he do with Mike?”

  Aiden’s nostrils flared. “Mike’s contract with me was going to end last month. Obviously I was going to extend it, and up his pay too, but my dad had other ideas. So I fired my dad before he could let Mike go.”

  That was why he’d split with his dad? “Why did he say Mike was a bad influence on you?”

  He crossed his arms, his posture rigid. “My dad—he’s always been strict. Intense with my training. I guess I was used to that because he gave me a bit of freedom whenever I was doing well, which was most of the time—until I got injured in the US Open last year. I had a tough time recovering after that. When I was finally ready to play again, I couldn’t play at my best either.

  “My dad thought I just needed more training, but honestly? I felt like I was suffocating every day practicing non-stop. I didn’t find it fun anymore. Every time my dad said, ‘Think of the end goal’ and ‘You need to be stronger,’ I kept wishing that I’d get some life-altering injury so I had no chance and he would shut up about it.

  “Mike suggested I needed a bit of a break from tennis. Maybe go home to Sydney and see my mum for a few months. He said a nice holiday like that would lift my spirits. My dad shot down the idea as soon as he heard it. When I tried to go anyway, he thought it was all Mike’s doing. Told me he was a bad influence and that I was better off without him.”

  “That’s so…stupid.” So unbelievably stupid. His own son had burned out and he probably hadn’t realised it. For Aiden to have wished for a horrible injury just to get out of playing? How much training had he endured to reach that point? “He shouldn’t have done that. If you need a break, you should take one.”

  “No kidding. So tell me—after knowing all that, do you really think I can forgive him and pretend to go back to being the obedient son?” Aiden held a piece of ribbon, looking about ready to strangle someone with it. “It feels dumb to say that I’m twenty-three, but that my dad’s dictated most of my life. To the point where I was so used to it that I didn’t fight against him until he finally did something to make me snap.”

  I gently extracted the ribbon from his tight grip and used it to tie a bow on the present I’d already wrapped. “Your dad really is something else.” And that was putting it mildly. “But I don’t think you should be embarrassed that you followed him for most of your life. I mean, he’s your dad. Who else are you meant to look up to?” By the sounds of it, his mum wasn’t as much of a constant in his life. “I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to stop talking to him, but did you ever tell him how you felt? That he was pushing you too hard?”

  “I don’t think there’s any point.”

  Maybe not, but he’d never get past this hole in his life if he avoided his dad forever. I could see it was eating him alive to live with all that hurt. To suffer because of someone who was supposed to love and support you. Now more than ever, I was intent on helping him mend this wound. And for that to happen, his dad needed to hear just what he thought.

  “You can email him if that’s easier. I can help you write it,” I offered. “You don’t have to do it alone.” And because he looked so vulnerable and uncertain in that moment, I shifted closer to place my hand on his.

  The instant I did, the heat of his touch spread through me. This is such a nice feeling. I should never let go, some silly part of me thought. I tried to ignore it as he stared at our hands.

  I gave him what I hoped looked like a reassuring smile. “What do you say?”

  He rubbed the back of his head with his free hand, pinning me with his sharp gaze. As if he was searching through the depths of my soul. For my sincerity? Any hidden agendas? Too bad for him, my only ulterior motive wasn’t a secret now that he knew about it.

  “Okay,” he finally agreed. “It’s worth a try.” His hand slipped out from under mine, and I mourned the loss of its warmth. But then he moved it to pat my shoulder, making me lose my breath all over again.

  A smile shone on his face, bright like a beacon. “I look forward to winning this challenge.”

  Wow. If he was that happy at the prospect of winning, maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to let him win. Now that I knew he’d suffered a mental burnout from tennis, it made sense he wanted to quit.

  But then I remembered what was at stake. If he won, he got to ask me a personal favour and a personal question.

  Oh no. I had no idea about the favour, but had a bad feeling about what he would ask for the question. He’d shown a bit too much interest in knowing the details about my last relationship.

  Nope. I couldn’t afford to lose this challenge and let him ask me anything about that. Besides, winning didn’t automatically mean I was forcing him back into tennis. It was about showing him that there was more to tennis than just the bad points he’d singled out. Maybe his dad had made him hate it, and maybe I couldn’t mend their broken relationship. But I would do everything in my power to help Aiden see how much he still loved tennis.

  Determination hardened my resolve.

  There was no other choice. I had to win this challenge.

  Chapter 23

  This was by far the most luxurious restaurant I’d ever been in. I picked at the fancy slice of red velvet cake in front of me with my fork, cutting smoothly through the creamy frosting. Mmm, could I replicate this? They probably used the most expensive brand of everything, so even if I repeated the recipe perfectly in terms of technique, it most likely wouldn’t taste as nice.

  “Don’t like the cake?”

  My gaze swung upward at the sound of Aiden’s voice. I drank in the sight of him sitting across the table from me, butterflies whooshing in my stomach.

  His hair was combed more neatly than its typical dishevelled state, and rather than donning his usual sports clothing, a close-fitting collared shirt hugged his body, accentuating his muscled figure beneath. Yeah, it was hard not to stare.

  I set down my fork and clasped my hands together on my lap, dragging my gaze away from his too-fit body to meet his eyes. “It looks too good to eat.”

  During the past hour of our dinner, I’d purposely avoided maintaining eye contact in a vain attempt to subdue this annoying feeling in my stomach. That obviously wasn’t working too well, so I tried another tactic—small talk.

  “Can you believe it’s your last day in Sydney already?”

  “Yep, I know. It’s crazy.” The flutters multiplied at the appearance of his unreserved smile. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

  Time did fly, and weirdly enough, our challenge had actually been fun. Was it only a week ago when I’d had the fleeting thought I wouldn’t mind losing to him? Past-me would never have thought that if she’d seen me sitting right here, already suffering the consequences of my loss.

  My eyes swept over our surroundings. The glass railing beside me showed off our shimmery, faded reflections. Mine was an expression of barely contained awe. Aiden’s was a look of amusement as he glanced my way. The Sydney Harbour Bridge loomed over us, a gigantic bridge of arched steel spanning across the water, countless tiny lights winking both along and behind it from all of the city buildings.

  Okay, I could ha
rdly call it suffering when all Aiden had asked of me for his personal favour was to spend dinner on New Year’s Eve with him. He’d insisted on paying too. Free food? Heck yes. At the type of restaurant I’d once wrongly assumed he would only ever dine at, no less. But that raised another question.

  Why? Was he trying to impress me with his money? That couldn’t have been it. He’d never rubbed it in my face during the weeks we’d spent together. What then? Winner’s guilt?

  “Are you still sad you lost the challenge?” Aiden asked. “Seriously, Sere. It was just a bet. No hard feelings.”

  What he meant was no hard feelings for being a loser. A huge L-O-S-E-R. Because my brilliant last plan had failed big time. We’d drafted a meaningful email to his dad, full of heartfelt words and a plea for them to have a good talk. I’d been so sure his dad would’ve at least agreed to meet and talk over their problems. Yet here we were, more than a week later, with no response from the old grouch.

  So with great reluctance, I had finally admitted defeat and declared Aiden the winner of the challenge yesterday.

  Meeting his hazel-eyed stare now, I tried and failed to ignore the frantic palpitations of my heart. And the darn butterflies. Over these last few weeks, they hadn’t ceased at all whenever I’d been in his presence. I had even considered bailing tonight just to avoid the emotional flutter-fest, but then thought better of it. What kind of person would I be if I promised a prize for winning the challenge, but then refused to deliver it? Not a very good one.

  “You’re really hung up about it, hey?” Aiden said when I didn’t respond.

  I mentally shook off my wayward thoughts, giving him my full attention. “Nope, I’m over it. How about you?”

  He cut off a sliver of his strawberry cake and bit into it. “What about me?”

  “Are you doing okay? I know you said you had no hope for patching things up with your dad, but it still sucks that he didn’t reply.” If his dad only cared about him tennis-wise, he totally deserved the Worst Dad of the Year trophy.

  “I’m fine. Let’s not talk about him.” His dismissive tone suggested otherwise, but if he didn’t want to discuss it, I would let him be. After all, I wouldn’t be seeing him again for a long time after tonight, if at all. It was better to fill this night with happier memories.

  “Why don’t we dance instead?” he asked, as if he’d read my mind. His eyes flickered to the space on the opposite end to us, right next to the balcony. Couples were swaying to the slow beat of the music. Together. Closely.

  A flush of heat surged through me at the thought of us doing the same. “I can’t dance,” I warned him, but I was already sliding out of my seat. Stupid body doing what it wanted.

  His laugh carried easily over the music, making me shiver. “What makes you think I can dance?”

  I shot him an incredulous look. “Why’d you ask then?” He wasn’t standing up. Had he been joking? I moved to sit back down, but he jumped out of his seat, grabbing me by the hand.

  “Come on.” His thumb brushed over my wrist, igniting another myriad of flutters within me. At this rate, my whole stomach was going to drown from the sensory overload. “It’ll be fun. Something normal.”

  I let him pull me along. “You still want to be normal.” It was a statement, not a question. Because without a doubt, it was true.

  “Do you think I’m stupid for wanting that?” he asked as he guided me to the dancefloor.

  It was hard to organise my thoughts properly with his hand around mine, but him, stupid? No. He was human. He wanted things the same as anyone else did. It just so happened that what he wanted was probably what everyone else didn’t want.

  By the time I’d thought this all through, we were already on the dance floor. I had no idea how to do this, so I glanced at other people for guidance. The couple closest to us—the man had both hands around the lady’s waist, and hers were draped over his shoulders. They swayed to the rhythm, oblivious to the world around them.

  I gulped. Did Aiden want us to dance the same way?

  A sudden touch on my waist jarred me. My breath hitched as I looked down to see his hands resting there, giving me my answer.

  My attention drew back to him, our gazes locking. The fairy lights strung above us reflected the flecks of green in his eyes, a mischievous glint in them. He took a step back, pulling me with him. Not wanting to lose my balance, my hands automatically moved to hold onto his shoulders. Following Aiden’s lead, I glided along to the music with slow, measured steps.

  I let myself relax in the calming rhythm and his hold. The scent of his cologne teased my nose, a smell I’d now familiarised myself with over the last few weeks. I closed my eyes and breathed it in deeply, relishing his closeness, wishing this perfect moment could last forever.

  Eventually, my eyes fluttered open to find him staring down at me.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey.” There was a beat of silence, and then I decided to fill it by saying, “So what have you been up to today?”

  He shrugged, the movement almost jostling my hands off his shoulders. “Nothing much. Just tennis practice for most of the day.”

  “You’re still practicing?”

  “Yeah. I’ve still got to train before the Australian Open.”

  “Right.” Duh. It wasn’t like he would just stop practicing altogether before the big event. “That’s good.”

  His lips lifted into a smirk. “Are you trying to do small talk to distract me? Don’t think I haven’t forgotten about my personal-question ticket.”

  Just like that, my bubble of comfort broke with a pop.

  Of course I hadn’t forgotten—I’d just been waiting for him to ask. Knowing him, I hadn’t believed for a second that he would just forget about it. Not with his memory.

  “What did you want to ask?” I said, pretending that I was totally fine with whatever he would throw my way. Fake it until you make it.

  His hold on my waist shifted slightly. “Your best friend. What happened between the two of you?”

  Unease stirred in the pit of my stomach. I’d had a feeling he would ask about this. “It’s…complicated.” That was an understatement. But it was more than that. I didn’t want him to think badly of me.

  My teeth clenched together, remembering the venomous words I’d spat out to Liz a year ago. Words that I could never take back.

  No. He didn’t need to know that.

  “It’s okay. You don’t have to share,” he said, perhaps sensing my reluctance. “Let’s try something else.”

  “Sure.” Anything else was better.

  “Your ex-boyfriend,” he started.

  My feet that had been dancing seconds ago suddenly grounded to a halt. Aiden’s grip on my waist tightened as he quickly steadied himself to avoid ramming into me.

  I forced myself to speak. “What about him?” My voice came out unusually high-pitched and defensive, instead of casual and nonchalant like I wanted.

  Aiden’s hands slid off my waist and he took a step back, my arms falling off his shoulders in the process. He regarded me with those sharp eyes of his. Quiet. Assessing.

  I averted my gaze to look at the Harbour Bridge, unsure of what he was searching for. Afraid that he would somehow find it.

  “I thought maybe you still liked your ex and had feelings for him.”

  My head snapped back to him. He ran a hand through his hair, a pained expression overtaking his face.

  “No!” Why would he think something like that? Did I look like some sad, sobby girl? I didn’t think so. “I don’t feel anything for him anymore. I’d be stupid to still be holding onto feelings for someone after that long.” As stupid as I’d be to have feelings for the guy I was looking at right now in front of me.

  “Good,” Aiden said, his voice barely audible above the sound of the music playing.

  Good? What did that mean? Was he suggesting…?

  My eyes darted to his mouth as his lips parted. “I thought you were still hung up on someon
e else. But if you’re not—”

  Fizzling noises filled the air, interrupting him. Trails of multi-coloured fireworks burst out in circular patterns around us, painting the night sky bright pink, blue, then green, and so on. Until the entire sky was lit by bright colours. We wandered closer to the railing along with the rest of the people on the dance floor.

  “It isn’t even midnight yet!” Aiden shouted over the noise.

  “They have nine o’clock fireworks, too!” I yelled back. For kids who had early bedtimes. It had completely slipped my mind until now.

  It seemed like other people had forgotten as well, because they all started getting up from their seats and rushing to the railing where we stood. A young couple, ignorant to their surroundings, already had their selfie stick raised, ready to take photos. Realising I was next to them in the photo, I scrambled away to get out of their shot. In my haste, I slipped on what felt like someone’s shoe, stumbling backward.

  Hands grasped my arms at the last second, preventing me from making a huge fool of myself. I twisted around, coming face-to-face with Aiden.

  “Maybe we should take a selfie too,” he suggested loudly, eyeing the same couple I’d gotten away from.

  “Really?”

  “You don’t want to?”

  “I don’t mind.” I didn’t look completely terrible since I’d bothered to dress up for tonight. After he’d revealed we would be dining at a super fancy restaurant, I’d pulled out my nicest clothes—a dark blue, off-the-shoulder midi dress—and painstakingly done a bit of makeup. Nothing too extravagant, because I wasn’t very skilled at it. Just the basics. Foundation. Blush. A bit of mascara. Shimmery lipstick that had probably already faded after eating and drinking.

  I was just shocked because I’d thought he wouldn’t want to take a photo. Not after he’d blatantly refused to take one with Ben Wong the other week. Apparently I was wrong about that.

  Taking out his phone, Aiden switched the camera to selfie mode. I smiled nervously at our close-up faces and put my hand up in my signature peace sign.