Until Then. // denis shapovalov - sascha zverev

6.3 - close call

Willow's POV

It's the first day of Lavar Cup. I sprint out of the hotel's coffee shop with two coffees in my hand and down the street. Our hotel was just a couple blocks from the Stadium and catching a cab during the morning rush hour was nearly impossible. I need to be there in 5 minutes, but it takes 8 minutes to walk over. My speed walking turns into a light jog, which isn't the best choice in work heels.

"Shit!" I yell, dropping my coffee as someone cuts me off while walking... or maybe I cut them off... I'm not sure, I was in too much of a panic, looking down at my phone to see if I'm forgetting something.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!" I hear a familiar voice say. "Willow!" I look up to see shaggy blonde hair and tired blue eyes.

"No, don't worry about it. Sorry, I'm just in a big hurry," I say, picking up the mostly empty cup and lid off the sidewalk.

"Let me buy you a new one," Denis says. "Please, there's a shop right there!"

"No, that's completely unnecessary! It's fine, I can get out when I get to the Stadium!" I reassure him. "I can't be late and todays the first day of the tournament."

"Here, I'll Venmo you!" Denis tries.

"Seriously, Denis, it's okay!" I say. "I really gotta get going, though."

"I'm headed over there, I'll jog over and protect you and your coffee from getting rammed into by anyone else," Denis says, putting on the second strap around the shoulder of his tennis bag.

I smile and agree to let him come along. It'd be weird if I didn't. We start fast walking over as he says, "Somethings never change, do they," he says.

"What do you mean?" I ask, finally seeing the edge of the Stadium from around the corner in front of us.

"I believe this is how the first time we met. You spilled your drink all over the court, too."

I chuckle, remembering, "God, that was terrible. My first time working a job and being on court and that happens."

"No, no, don't. It wasn't terrible, I liked it. I saw you from inside the building, looking around. I literally lost the next five points in a row because I was so in awe of this gorgeous girl who's trying to get into a tour that she drops her coco everywhere."

I feel my cheeks get pink, still trying to forget that even happened. I give Denis a weak smile has he joins me on my light jog over to the stadium.

"Do you need me to carry that?" Denis asks, signaling to the leather bag around my shoulders.

"Well now that I have a free hand," I chuckle. "No, thanks." I feel bad taking advantage of Denis, even if it's for something as simple as carrying my bag. I already made my feelings clear to him, but that doesn't mean that a piece of me still is reaching for his comfort.

"How you liking Lavar Cup so far?" Denis asks, he readjusts his tennis bag onto his other shoulder.

"It's..." I doze off, my gaze snapping to someone calling my name from the street. I turn around and see Alex's head poke out the window.

"Need a ride?!" He calls from inside his black car.

I really could jump into the car and make it to the stadium in time... but I can't. Not with Denis next to me. Why do I literally have the worst luck?

"No, thanks!" I yell back. "This is my workout for the day!"

"Suit yourself," Alex shrugs and rolls back up his window, speeding off.

I settle back into a comfortable pace with Denis. I remember that the last time he saw me, I was literally leaving Alex's room after... sexual intercourse. Yeah, that. Which, Alex literally has not texted me since. It's been three days since we've talked, and 'done the dirty.' Shouldn't a guy reach out by now? I mean, have I texted him about it other than 'Good Morning xx' yesterday? No. But at least I made the effort to reach out since. Literally, what the fuck?

"What?" Denis asks.

I remember he's still next to me and snap up. "Did I-?" Just say all that out loud?

"You said, 'what the fuck,'" Denis asks.

I let out a sigh of relief. "Sorry, I- I was just thinking about how mad Mischa is going to be at me now that he doesn't have a coffee," I cover. That was a close one.

-

"Here," Denis reaches over to hand me the coffee from the Starbucks inside the arena.

"Thanks," I say.

"I can't believe we made it here with two minutes to spare," Denis says. "You should be an Olympian for speed walking."

We walk down the hall, to the conference room.

"What are you up to, today?" Denis asks me.

"Well, I have my team meeting and then a couple interviews, I think. I don't think I'm doing any on-court interviews today, thank goodness. I literally hate those. I feel like I'm talking too fast, or no one can understand me or maybe my shirt's untucked and everyone knows but me," I mumble.

Denis laughs. "You've been great every time."

"Thanks," I half smile, half frown. Does he watch all my interviews? "What about you?"

"I've got a match at 8," Denis says. We reach my conference room and loiter outside.

"With who?" I ask.

"Alex." Denis responds.

I bite the inside of my cheek from making any sort of reaction. "Ah."

"Ah, indeed," Denis says. He takes in a deep breath and exhales. "Well, thanks for letting me join you on your morning sprint," he jokes. "Have a good meeting."

And with that, he's gone.