Stay Away

the tennis player

"Never play me like that again!" Leah's glare is obvious in the reflection of the windshield, though the droplets of rain hammering down distort her face slightly. I roll my eyes, irritated already from her earlier comments.

"You're being dramatic."

It angers her more, though I am not sure I intended to do that.

She is driving me back from the airport. It has been a week since I told her I would live with her. A week in which I stayed with my father in Amsterdam. Leah has not been happy about the arrangement since I told her about it, and is still annoyed as we pull into her driveway.

"I missed you so much," she whines, parking the car close to her front door, my side a direct path inside the house. Even when arguing with me, she is still cautious of my calf, acting as though I am made of glass. It took some convincing to get her to not book me assistance in the airport. "I told the girls that my girlfriend was staying with me for a bit, and then, when they asked to meet her, I had to tell them that you'd ditched me for your dad. A man you don't even like!"

She slams the car door loudly, adding to her theatrics. She opens mine with the same glare I have been watching build up the whole car journey, though the sheepish smile I give her seems to soften it slightly. "I like him," I reply, much to her skepticality. "He can be difficult – he was difficult – but I like him. I appreciate all that he has done for me."

"Jaimie, the man acts as if you can do no wrong, and crucifies you when you make a mistake." And, sometimes, that is what I need.

"He pushes me to do better."

"That is what you pay Juan for. I'll get your bag." I shrug, pushing away the hand she has extended to help me out. She unlocks her door, and I step inside as quickly as I can without getting wet. "A father is supposed to support you. Not love you on the condition that you are some unbeatable champion who only dates people who speak Dutch and are Ajax fans."

So this is what this is about. Leah is annoyed that he doesn't like her. She is not used to people resisting her charms. "He is unimpressed with me, not you," I attempt to comfort her as she takes off her wet hoodie and dirty shoes, kicking my suitcase inside with a pettiness only a five-year-old (and, clearly, my girlfriend) could possess.

"He's unimpressed that you are with me," she corrects truthfully. I wince. "It's fine. Not like he's the father of the girl I love!"

Suddenly, I find this hilarious. Her pout is genuine and her foot stamps as she winges, arms folding across her chest in a picture of indignation. "My mother will be less critical," I giggle, opening my arms for her to stomp her way into.

"Won't be hard. I wasn't even there and he managed to make me nervous," she grumbles into my shoulder.

"Are we going out tonight?" She hugs me tighter. "It's Friday."

"Why would I share you?"

"...I may have been invited to a club." Leah groans, tired from her day of training. I'm glad that I get to choose when I train more or less, because being handed a schedule and told to comply would have me just as exhausted as she usually is. "If you don't want to come, I will check with—"

"No, I'll come. Can I bring Alex?"

I think back to what my agent told me. It's a big night for them, and the guest list for the VIP section is exclusive. Alex Scott, with all her connections, is probably already going. "Ask her if she has been invited. We have time to relax. I was thinking of getting there for midnight, and leaving at two. Tomorrow I have some interviews in London, so I should probably sleep." I have physio, too.