BREAK POINT - chris sturniolo

CHAPTER 12

"And tonight at six, we'll have quite a show for you. Center stage tonight, UCLA's Annabelle Watson will be going head to head with Stanford's Jessica Mayborn. We have two titans here today, don't we Beth?"

"Yes we do, Joe. We're looking at the West Coast's finest, if not the nation's finest tennis players here. As you know, the winner of today's final match will be moving onto nationals. Either way, we will have a California player competing on the national level. We haven't had two Californians in the final for sometime now. Stanford is solidified as one of the nation's best women's tennis powerhouses, but Watson is daring to make a name for both herself, and UCLA."

"That's right, Beth. Coming to you live, throughout the day, here at La Jolla Beach, California. Let's cut back to Jeff in the studio."

I pull my AirPod out and throw it down in my lap, the ESPN broadcast being replaced with the steady hum of the bus. Charlotte looks to me in shock.

"Chill out, brother." She says.

"You sound like Sammy." I murmur.

"Alright, I know you've had a stick up your ass this week, but there's no need to stoop that low." She says, earning a laugh from em.

I haven't told anyone about what happened with me and Chris, and keeping it inside me for three days has been next to torture. I figured I'd tell Charlotte on the way home from finals, seeing as we'll have a whole three hours to discuss it. The drive to La Jolla, where the West Coast Finals was being held, was a boring drive, but at least it was a pretty one.

Flat cityscapes turned into cliffs and beautiful open land. The further away we get, the more beautiful it becomes. I never loved California, but I guess I was looking in the wrong parts of it.

I rest my head against the window and force myself to fall into a dreamless sleep.

+

I was back in my sanctuary once again, with a mountain to move ahead of me.

Pop, pop, pop.

I threw the tennis ball at my feet and drew my arm back for the serve.

Jessica Mayborn and I were tied, and this last set would decide the match. To make matters worse for her, and more enticing for me, we were tied in sets, too.

Sweat dripped off my nose and I looked down at my feet to check my stance. Somehow, it was hotter here than it was in LA. It felt even less like October than it did before.

Thwack.

I serve the ball to the left corner of the box and she returns it gracefully, pumping her manly fist when the ball flew out of bounds behind me.

Love - 15.

I grab another ball from the ball girl behind me. I'm not worried. Not yet.

I send a slice exactly where I put it before, and she returns it the same way. This time I'm ready for it. I send the ball gliding over the net and right at her feet.

15 all.

Another serve. Ace.

30-15.

She's off her game now and I'm having fun. This is the most skilled opponent I've ever had, and I'm rejoicing in the way it feels to be matched. I smile at her from under my visor and send another one directly at her feet. This time she returns it and I dive for it, sending it just short of the net.