𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐓𝐘 𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐍? | challengers x reader

prologue

SCARSDALE, NEW YORK – JULY 29, 2019

The last thing you expected was to get a text from Tashi Duncan asking you to meet at her hotel during the Phil's Tire Town ATP Challenger in New Rochelle. Three weeks from the 2019 US Open and your attempt at winning your 20th Grand Slam title, the woman who used to be like your sister wasn't on your mind. Even though you liked to think you'd moved on from the tumultuous relationships that plagued your teens and twenties, one text from Tashi was all it took to throw you off your game at practice that day.

UNKNOWN: I need to see you. New Rochelle Ritz-Carlton lobby, tonight. -T

You had to laugh at the universe's sense of humour.

Tashi was practically around the corner. You'd been raised in the affluent and perfectly manicured town of Scarsdale, New York, in a lifeless estate your mother earned with her illustrious tennis career. You hated every second of it growing up. Ever since you could remember, you promised you wouldn't end up there. Yet here you were on the estate that your career-long endorsement from Nike practically signed the cheque for. It had a private tennis court where your father now coached you and was, coincidentally, ten minutes away from your former best friend's hotel.

You didn't owe it to Tashi to come see her.

After all, she was the one whose venomous words had cut the ties of your friendship in the first place. But that was after Art and Patrick. Your lives had been so different before that fateful night you first met the pair of best friends. You agreed to meet Tashi for the sake of a friendship that used to be the only important thing in your life.

Y/N: I'll be there at 8pm if you come alone

Her reply came seconds later as if she was sitting by the phone waiting to hear from you.

TASHI: Thank you, Y/I. I'll leave your name at the reception.

- - -

In your earliest memories, your hair is tied out of your face, your tennis shoes are laced tightly, and you're staring up at your mother as she corrects your posture. You're holding a Wilson tennis racket, a children's version of the same model your mother used at Grand Slams in the 70s, and holding back tears. You couldn't have been older than five, and your future was written for you.

Your tennis coaches emphasised to your mother that this stage of tennis training was essential to making the sport fun and fostering a love for the game, and she'd ignored their advice.

The first time tennis was fun for you was when you were fourteen years old, and you played a girl named Tashi Duncan at a tennis club match for girls. Her backhand was like thunder, and for once, you forgot all of your mother's perfectionistic laments and realised how exciting the game could be when your opponent truly loved the sport. When you won the match, Tashi looked windswept and stunned. While you expected her to give you a reluctant handshake before rushing off to regroup with her coach, fourteen-year-old Tashi Duncan had given you a hug and asked to exchange numbers.

"I've never played with another real tennis player before," Tashi gushed when you typed your number into her phone. "I can tell you actually understand the game. I look forward to battling it out with you again."

Neither of you realised that most of your battles would play out off the court or that they'd hurt far more than losing a game of tennis.