Perfect for You(55)

“We’ll load up on carbs, throw on old tennis matches, and go to bed early.”

Sadly, it sounds like the most fun I’ve had in a while. “It’s a date.”

***

The alarm wakes me up at eight. Gray is already in the shower. The steam is wafting under the door and into the hallway. I pull on my uniform and tie my hair back in a ponytail. My eyes aren’t red or puffy anymore. I haven’t cried in days. Two days. But it’s a start.

“Good morning!” Grayson is all smiles, but I can see the nerves she’s masking. “Ready to be State Champions?” She jumps on my bed and starts dancing around.

“Easy, girl. You don’t want to use up all your nervous energy before we get to the courts.”

“Right. Is it that obvious that I’m terrified of this match?” She sits, trying to stay still, but her foot shakes.

“Being nervous is normal. But remember, you aren’t alone. You and Leanne have each other.”

She nods. She and Leanne really do make a great team. “How are you feeling?”

I’m not sure if she’s talking about the Ash situation or the upcoming match, but I decide to go with the match. “Good. Coach studied my opponent’s game for me. She’s really good, but she doesn’t like to run. If I keep her moving, I should be able to tire her out. I just have to be patient.”

“Sounds like a good strategy.”

We head downstairs where Mom is making eggs, bacon, pancakes, and waffles. “Good morning, girls.” She’s all smiles, most likely because I’ve been acting more like myself again.

“Morning, Mrs. Flannigan.” Grayson’s eyeing the food and salivating.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d want to eat, so I made everything. There’s cereal in the cabinet if you’d rather something light.”

Grayson grabs a plate and digs in, taking a little of everything. “Forget light. My mom never cooks like this. I’m eating.”

After we’re full—much more full than we should be before a match—we head out. Mom says she and Dad will be there before the first serve. Gray and I are quiet on the drive. We’re both getting into match mode.

The other team is right on time, and my nerves are going crazy. I take a few deep breaths, forcing everything out of my head. No Ash. No Liz. No Noah. It’s just me and the tennis ball. I’m not even thinking about my opponent. I’m going to torture this ball until I win the match.

It’s the hardest match I’ve ever played. I have to keep moving the ball all over the court, waiting for the right moments to strike. It’s not the way I like to play, but if I want to win I have to adapt. If only I could handle the rest of my life the way I handle tennis.

I win the first set, but the points go on forever. I’m getting tired, but I have at least one more set to go—if everything goes well, and with how good this girl is playing, I’m not sure things will stay in my favor. The girl unleashes this serve that makes my head spin. Where has that been for the past hour? Was she toying with me? Letting me think I had a chance? I’m freaking out. Coach calls me to the fence.

“What do I do? It’s like she was hiding her serve. Like a secret weapon.”

“Calm down. You can pull through with the win. Step forward and use the momentum of her serve in your return.”

“Step forward? She’s serving so fast I can barely figure out where the ball is heading before it zooms by me. If I step forward—”

Coach puts his hand up. “Flannigan, who’s the coach here?”

“You.”

“Then do as I say. Step forward.”

I can’t buy into this idea. “What if it doesn’t work?”

“Then try harder. Believe me, you don’t want this going three sets.”

No, I don’t. I need to pull out a miracle.

I step onto the court again. Coach motions me forward, closer to the service box. I sigh, my breath shaky, and take a step forward. He motions me forward again. He’s out of his mind! I don’t move, but he cocks his head to the side and throws his hands in the air. He’s the coach, not me. I step forward again. He nods in approval. Yeah, great. I have a closer view of the serve that’s going to take me down.

She serves, and I turn my racket. The ball whizzes by me. I didn’t even get the racket on it. I look up for Coach, for some help, but instead I see Ash.





Chapter Twenty-Five


What is he doing here? How am I supposed to concentrate with him sitting on the grass, watching me? I can’t even move my feet. My body isn’t responding to my brain. Probably because my brain is thinking Ash, Ash, Ash. He’s staring at me, looking more uncomfortable than I felt at the football game last week when I poured my heart out to him. The game. Liz’s lips on Ash’s. I’ve forced the image from my mind for two days now. Tried to think about anything else, and now it’s back. A tear runs down my cheek.

“Flannigan!” Coach Moyers yells. I tear my eyes away from Ash. Coach calls time and waves me over to the fence. I’m able to move now, but my eyes stay focused on Ash. Coach turns to see what the problem is. “Oh, come on. Are you seriously going to blow this match over a guy?” I don’t respond so he goes on. “Flannigan, look at me. Look at me.” I swallow hard and meet his eyes. “You’ve worked too damn hard to throw everything away now. This is it. Senior year. You only get one shot at this girl, at a state title. This guy will still be here when the match is over.”