“Yeah, I guess it was easy to tell I was losing my cool.” Aiden smiled sheepishly, sending a twinge of pain shooting through me. “Why don’t I let everyone in on a little secret?”
The title of the video. My heart thudded faster and harder.
“Oh, do tell. You’re always so full of mysteries. I bet we’re all eager to know what you have to share.”
“It’s something someone told me once, and it’s stayed with me since.” He paused to take a sip of his sports drink. “I was told that a racket is like your partner. Your friend. You wouldn’t kick your friend in the head. At least I hope not.” The interviewer and crowd laughed at the statement. “So yeah. I try to treat my racket with that same respect.”
A fluttering filled my stomach like a million dancing butterflies.
“Who gave you such great advice?”
Me. I knew without a doubt he was talking about me.
Aiden pointed at the interviewer with his drink bottle, a mischievous smirk on his face. “That, I’m afraid I can’t say.”
“Ah, so you’re still keeping secrets from your fans in the end.”
He laughed that familiar chortling laugh of his. “You know it. How else will I remain mysterious?”
“Let us in on one thing, though. You can’t keep your fans hanging like this. Don’t you agree, everyone?” The crowd shouted in approval. “Is this person from your family? A former coach? A fellow tennis player?”
Aiden cocked an eyebrow at the interviewer’s suggestions. “No, none of those. But I can tell you she’s played an important part in my life as someone who helped me become who I am today. Actually, she probably doesn’t know the impact she’s had on me, since I’m so secretive and all.”
He was still grinning as I tried and failed to digest the meaning behind what he said. How in the world had I helped him become who he was today? But then his face grew stern, and his next words changed everything.
“I have one last thing to say, so I hope she’s watching.” He turned to look directly at the video camera. “I challenge you to come to the Australian Open. Come and watch me play. If you do, you win. I’ll give you anything—any one thing that you want and it’s yours.”
His words short-circuited my brain. Was he seriously challenging me for all the world to hear? With such a ridiculously generous reward? Any one thing I wanted and… What would I even ask him?
The interviewer blinked at him with a confused smile on his face. “Who are you challenging, Aiden, and why are you willing to give them anything they want if they come here?”
Aiden just smiled and lifted a finger to his lips, making a gesture of zipping them shut.
“Okay, then,” the interviewer said, scrambling to recover from Aiden’s lack of response. “You are a secretive man. I guess that’s all the secrets you’re willing to spill for us today. Tell us what you think about your potential next round opponent instead? You’ll either be facing…”
The rest of the video played on, but it was all lost to my ears.
I challenge you to come to the Australian Open.
Had he really said that? Why was he challenging me? He must’ve been doing it for the same reason I’d challenged him before.
He wanted to prove a point.
I shifted my gaze to the train windows, conflicting thoughts clashing in my head as fast as the landscape whipping by.
I knew exactly what point Aiden was trying to prove. The question was—would I let him prove it? I could just ignore this challenge and pretend I’d never seen it. Go on with my life.
A gnawing deep in my gut protested against that idea. Ignoring this would make me exactly what he’d called me. A coward.
I didn’t want to be like that anymore. What if, one year from now, I regretted not going? Or even two weeks from now, when the Aus Open was already over? Even if this was completely uncharacteristic for me to do, I would rather take the chance than leave another trail of regrets formed by my own inaction.
He wanted to prove a point to me? Fine. I would prove a point to him too.
Challenge accepted, Aiden Andale.
Chapter 28
This was so not how I imagined spending my Saturday afternoon.
The oppressing heat of the Melbourne sun shone down on me, a heat worse than standing in front of an open oven. I hurried through the steady stream of people, dodging those heading in the opposite direction. Left, right, left, left. Perspiration dripped down the nape of my neck, making my hair stick uncomfortably to it.
Damn Australian summer. It must’ve been at least thirty degrees today. Why hadn’t I brought a hat? Of all the things to forget to bring. At least I’d brought sunscreen, but still. How did tennis players avoid being burned to a charred crisp in this weather? I’d have to ask Aiden how he did it—after I completed the challenge.
My heart hammered against my ribs, the reality dawning on me.
Was I crazy? I was actually completing this absurd challenge. I’d gone and done the exact thing I swore I’d never do.
Go to the Australian Open. Without Dad.
The realisation hit me hard, spurring me onward.
I was already here. I wouldn’t disrespect Dad by running away from his favourite place due to my own problems. I had to find Aiden and talk to him. I might have come here for his challenge, but in truth, I had other reasons too. Even if Aiden had moved on with his life, I hadn’t. I needed to do this. For myself. For closure. To live my life with no regrets.
Before long, I eyed the Rod Laver Arena in the distance. Sunlight glinted off the slightly curved, off-white structure, the crisscrossing of the triangle-patterned exterior hypnotic. My feet gravitated toward the set of steps that led to its entrance, but I quickly came to my senses.
No. The arena wasn’t my destination. I didn’t even have tickets to get in. Which was probably for the best. The last time I’d entered the arena had been with Dad, excited to watch a men’s semi-finals match. It’d been the last match I’d seen live with him at the Australian Open. Before he passed away.
My lips pressed together as moisture gathered in my eyes. No, no, no. I would not cry. I’d had the whole plane and bus ride to prepare myself for this. No crying. I hadn’t even found Aiden yet. Be strong.
I forced my feet forward, my eyes scanning across the Grand Slam Oval next to the arena as I passed by. The grassy area was decked out with tables and chairs covered by blue umbrellas, all of them unsurprisingly occupied.
As a child, I’d often traipsed through this very oval, eating food my parents had bought from the food trucks and lounging on the lawn chairs to watch live matches from the large LCD screens. Every time a player Dad supported scored a point, Max and I had both cheered alongside him. I couldn’t help smiling at the fond memory now. Though those fun times had long passed and they would never happen again, I would always treasure them.
I clasped a hand over my heart as if to physically hold those memories there, then set off again.
I was pretty sure I knew the way to my destination, but I double-checked on my phone just in case. According to the scheduled times on the website, Aiden should’ve started practicing on Court Sixteen less than half an hour ago.
Come and watch me play, he’d said, but he hadn’t specified that it had to be a real match. A practice session counted, right? Otherwise, I’d need to reveal myself to him first; all his scheduled matches were in either Rod Laver Arena or Margaret Court Arena, both pay-to-enter arenas that had sold out their tickets before the annual event.
I pored over the map I’d downloaded during my bus ride here. Court Sixteen wasn’t too far from here, but with the heat not letting up, I needed some supplies first.
After buying a cold bottle of water and a cap to protect my head from the sun, I continued to Court Sixteen. The closer I got to the large fenced-off courts, the more I doubted myself. It was a silly idea, after all. Travel all the way from Sydney to Melbourne, get here to the Australian Open, and complete the challenge Aiden had
issued. Then what? Apologise to him? Say that he’d been right in calling me a coward? That was the extent of my shabby plan.
I felt too unprepared for this. Like I was going into an exam without studying first. Well, too late now. The courts already loomed up ahead. Blue sheets covered the high fences bordering them, making it impossible to see much from afar. My feet ate up the distance, passing by Court Eighteen and then Court Seventeen. The heat pressed down on me. Or was it my anxiety?
By the time I reached Court Sixteen, huffing like the inactive person I was, I paused at the scene before me. People swarmed the area, both behind the short fence on one side of the court and sitting on the tiered seating on the other side. Even the observation bridge overhead was filled to the brim with people leaning over the railing in rapt attention at the courts below.
Uh-oh. I should’ve known this would happen. As if the place wouldn’t be packed if an Australian player was practicing. Especially if that player was Aiden Andale.
My stomach did somersaults as I squeezed my way through the masses. I spent a solid few minutes trying to get into a promising position in the audience.
In the end, I settled into a small space squished between two teenage girls and an older couple. From here, I could barely see over the heads of the first few rows of people, but this was as good as it would get.
The sound of a ball smacking the ground told me the practice session was still on. Not that I could see much from behind the human wall of the audience. Besides the cheers and claps, which was when I knew Aiden had probably made a good shot, I could hardly tell what was happening.
I craned my neck to and fro, going on tiptoes. Finally, after almost half a minute of annoying head bobbing and tilting, I saw a glimpse of tousled dark brown hair. Just a glimpse, then it was gone again.
As the practice went on, an unbearable pressure pressed in on my head. Ugh, not now. I did not need a headache to add to my list of worries. I dug out the bottle of water from my handbag and held it across my forehead. The coldness afforded me some relief, but not much. Not enough to survive sticking around for the whole practice match. But I couldn’t leave now. Not until I’d at least snuck a peek at Aiden and took a photo of him for proof of completing the challenge.
Fortunately, groups of people began to leave, allowing me to flit into the gaps that opened up. Either they were getting lunch, had to take a trip to the toilet, or wanted to flee the wrath of the sun. Whatever the reasons, I thanked my lucky stars and quickly manoeuvred my way into a prime spot in the front row of spectators. My eyes immediately latched onto the right side of the court.
I took in Aiden’s appearance, my stomach wobbling like jelly. He looked exactly as he had in the video I’d watched five days ago, dressed in the same sports gear that suited him so well. A dark blue shirt, white shorts, his signature wristbands and a headband that pushed back his mussed hair.
My eyes followed him back and forth as he chased after the ball along the baseline, every movement—from the position of his feet, to the smooth arc of his arm when he hit the ball—seamlessly executed. And those backhands. The way he planted his left foot forward as a base, pulled his left arm toward his chest and then swung it back out to hit the ball cleanly with his racket… I couldn’t fully describe it, but it was like he’d casted a spell on me. Watching him almost made me forget about my headache.
Photos. Don’t forget to take photos, some logical part of my brain thankfully reminded me. I chucked the now-warm drink bottle I’d been holding into my handbag, grabbed my phone, and opened up the camera app. Sunlight glared off the screen, making it almost impossible to see what I was aiming my camera lens at. Snap, snap, snap. I took as many shots as I could. It didn’t matter how bad they were, so long as they proved I’d seen him play.
“Let’s take a short break,” Aiden yelled out.
All at once, the aggravating pulsing in my head returned.
I lifted the front of my cap to massage my head. My gaze swept over to a blonde man walking over to Aiden. In my entrancement, I hadn’t taken the time to look at his practice partner. I observed him as he said something to Aiden. He didn’t look familiar. Was he his new coach? A hitting partner? I guess there was time to ponder about it later.
With my head on the verge of imploding, I fled the hot confines of the crowd and rushed to find a cooler sanctuary.
Ah, this was the best.
Large electric fans whirled at high speed, simultaneously spraying water while blowing gusts of wind in my face. I shoved away the loose wisps of my hair tickling my nose, savouring the refreshing coolness. Could I stay here forever so I wouldn’t have to feel the heat? Although my headache had lessened to a dull throb, thanks to the pain relief tablets I’d taken, I wasn’t in a hurry to be anywhere.
After I’d left the practice match, I’d found these fans nearby and then texted Aiden the photos I’d taken of him as proof of completing the challenge. So far, no response. I almost felt like a kid eager for their Christmas present. Or a teenager waiting for a message from her crush. Not sure which one sounded worse. Probably the teenager, except I couldn’t even use the excuse of still being one. I was just a sad, young adult.
So when my phone vibrated in my pocket, I pushed down the hope brimming inside me. For all I knew, it could be an email notification or one of those scam texts that said you won some competition and asked you to click on the link to claim your “prize.” I wasn’t stupid enough to fall for those. Only stupid when it involved a certain tennis player.
The phone continued rumbling in my hand as I slipped it out of my pocket.
My breathing stopped when my eyes snagged onto the screen.
Incoming call. Aiden Andale.
In my standstill, water from the fans spritzed onto my phone and face, giving me a well-deserved wake-up call. I spun around, letting the water soak the back of my tank top instead, and swiped through the water droplet splatter on my phone screen to answer the call.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Serendipity.” The sound of his voice saying my name raised goosebumps on my arm. Even over the phone, he had that effect on me. “Are you really here?”
A lump formed in my throat. I swallowed a few times, working to remove it. “Yeah.”
“Cool.” He paused, and a million questions crossed my mind in the span of a few seconds. What was he thinking? Was he happy? Impressed? Totally unaffected?
“Can we meet up?” he asked, cutting off my internal monologue.
“Sure.” I could do that. Wasn’t that my real reason for coming here? “Uh…”
“Meet me in front of Melbourne Arena in ten minutes. At the entrance opposite the oval. See you there. Bye.”
He hung up as abruptly as his words, giving me no chance to refuse him. Not that I would’ve, but I wondered why he wanted to meet in front of Melbourne Arena, of all places. Didn’t he know that he’d be easily swamped by fans there?
After a quick trip to a bathroom to freshen up, I arrived in front of the arena and surveyed the area for any signs of him. People bustled about, many of them filtering in and out of the arena.
Melbourne Arena used to be called Hisense Arena back when Dad and I watched matches there. It’d been his favourite because we didn’t have to pay any extra money to watch. Though the arena had undergone some renovations since then, a sad feeling settled in the pit of my stomach at another inevitable reminder of Dad at this event. It was impossible to look in any direction of this place and not find some connection to him.
“Sere.”
I let out a small yelp. In my daze, I hadn’t noticed someone coming up to stand beside me.
“Hey.” Aiden tilted his head down to stare at me. Or at least that’s what I thought he was doing. It was hard to tell with the large pair of shades covering his eyes.
His lips twitched into a small smile. “Sorry if I scared you.” He tugged on the drawstring of his hoodie. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come here after what you said last time.”
/> I wiped my sweaty palms along my legs, finding it impossible to ignore how good he looked. His untamable hair curled around his cap tucked under the shade of the hoodie over his head. It was the same type of sleeveless hoodie he’d worn that time he’d visited the bakery. Chino shorts and tennis shoes completed the ensemble. He appeared strangely normal. Nothing gave away that this was a star tennis player, not that he could have fooled me.
Focus, Sere. You’re not here to ogle him. “I didn’t think I’d come here either,” I told him. “But someone made the mistake of challenging me, and I wanted to prove him wrong, so”—I waved a hand over myself—“here I am.”
Aiden chuckled, a low, pleasant sound that warmed my stomach. “You’re here just to prove me wrong?”
“I also didn’t want to be a coward anymore.”
Rocking back on his heels, he lowered his head, avoiding my eyes. “About that. I’m—”
“Wait! Can you let me speak first? Please?” Otherwise, I wasn’t sure if I would chicken out on what I wanted to confess.
Aiden’s head snapped up, eyebrows furrowing, but he nodded.
“Thanks.” Okay, I could do this. Technically, I’d already done the harder stuff last weekend and on Monday, making up with Liz and quitting work. This, in comparison, would be a cinch.
I fixed my gaze on his face so I could catch his reaction. “I resigned from my job.”
“You—what?” Though I couldn’t see his eyes, I could almost imagine them widening under his raised eyebrows behind the sunnies.
“You were right,” I went on. “I knew working full-time at a law firm wasn’t what I really wanted to do, but I convinced myself that I didn’t have any other choice. Like you said about me not wanting to come here—I was a coward.”
Aiden took a step closer to me and raised a hand. “I didn’t mean to call you a coward. I was angry at myself and—”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain. I understand.” He might not have meant for his words to come out that way, but they had. I didn’t need him to make me feel better. As much as his words hurt, they held a measure of truth.
Chances for Serendipity Page 22