"Well, Sebastian, what are you doing here, specifically on my chair," I say with a brow perked. My sunglasses are on my head now. His are still resting on the tip of his nose, allowing me to see his green eyes in full beauty.
He looks around for a bit, pushing his sunglasses up. And slowly removing his hand from my chair, the ball clutched shut in his hand. "Well, Hannah, my uncle is the ref."
I snort. "Really! Sebastian, you must be kidding. Your uncle is the best thing to happen to tennis."
He looks into my eyes and only my eyes after I say this. He begins to grin when he sees me grin, looking at my lips for a split second. I look at his. White teeth and dimples.
"Okay I lied," He laughs out. I mock sad, and put my hands to my chest. "I can't believe you admitted it so quickly." He slaps his hand on his knee.
"Seriously though, why are you here?"
He runs a hand through his hair before putting his cap back on. "Okay, I'm here for-"
"Hannah, for the price of these tickets you'd think they'd give us some hand towels at least! 1-ply-" Mom pauses.
"And who's this?" Mom looks at Sebastian, smirking at me.
"Sebastian Dalfors. His uncle is the ref," I say, giggling at her, and he slaps the back of his hand on my knee. Whispering 'stop it'
"Well then, Han, you should ask to get his autograph," mom coyly states, forcing me and Seb into a laugh.
Seb?? You just met this guy, Hannah. Pet names already???!!!!
"You see, I bought these insane tickets all for her to just stare at the ump-"
"Okay, he gets it mom," I sweat embarrassingly.
"No please Mrs Battista, do tell how much she loves my uncle." He chuckles out with mock surprise.
Sebastian remained near us for the rest of the match, joking with me about the umpire and all the sneaky things he would do. I almost forgot he was there, not in a way that I ignored him, but rather becoming so comfortable with his presence overall that his pensive hand on my seat every time he whispered in my ear didn't feel so boiling hot as it did when he first caught that ball.
When mom and I left, it felt like there was so much more to us than just joking about umpires. It felt like I had wasted so much time, especially with a guy like that. Wearing his stupid Lacoste quarter zip and sharing his Angora blanket from Scotland with me when the sun set. I could've asked him about that stuff. Why didn't I ask him about that stuff??
I took one last look at him as he smiled at me with those dimples. "Bye Seb," I said, tentatively, slipping up and using that pet name. Secretly, I wanted him to run after me and tell me how deeply in love with me he was in that British accent, but he never did.
All I had from that moment was the tennis ball he had caught. All I could remember from our time together. We shared no contact. I stalked him on my finsta (Sus.an_1987_.) and he never once liked a post of mine despite my main account being turned on public permanently. I kept going to tournaments and trying to work hard enough to get the same sponsors as him. Until that day when he posted his girlfriend.
She was almost everything I was so sure he hated. Almost everything I wasn't. Blonde hair, blue piercing eyes. Turns out she was some hotshot Swedish national team player. I couldn't fathom it and I lay in my bed for 3 whole days straight in grieving. My mom was genuinely concerned for me, and I was too embarrassed to tell her what had actually happened, so she just assumed I had finally had enough of the French prick (aka Coach Charles).
A month after the incident, I got sent to a training camp in Brazil for the summer. Mom and dad are both Brazilian, so she thought it was a way for me to use the horrible Portuguese I had learnt and 'rekindle the love I had lost for tennis.'
It was the cure to all the problems in my life and so many more I didn't even realise I had, like my forehand grip being completely wrong. I spent the entirety of my vacation and more there, 4 months of tennis surrounded by some of the kindest people I had ever met. Sebastian Dalfors was the least of my worries. By the end of it I could hardly speak any English, I had callouses on every single finger and I was so tanned I had finally shaken off my 'pálida' nickname.
Brazil and that training camp when I was 18 was the reason I could get into Magnor. It was how I got my ranking up and pulled myself together, obviously enough to get into the reigning champion tennis school in America.
YOU ARE READING
When Love Wins
Romance"Should've brought you some cricket gloves," Where she only plays this godforsaken sport for him, always aimlessly trying to buy his time. And he has been obsessed with her for just as long as she has.
