(18+!)
Blake Evans is king of the tennis court at Westbridge University...and he's also a prick, a womanizer, a player, and an asshole. He's touted as one of the next stars of tennis, building hype and excitement around the program with every win...
Savannah's sleek convertible roared to life as Brooke slid into the passenger seat, the engine's purr echoing through the garage. The top was down, and the warm morning air filled the car as they pulled out onto the road, heading toward the exclusive tennis club where they practiced. Brooke leaned back in her seat, the wind catching her hair and the sun warming her skin. It felt good—exhilarating, even—and she found herself smiling, despite the tension simmering just beneath the surface.
Savannah, always the observant one, glanced over at Brooke as they drove, her eyes sharp with curiosity. "So, you were in there for quite a while," she said, her tone casual but probing. "What exactly were you up to, Brooke?"
Brooke turned her head, giving Savannah her best innocent smile. "Just getting ready, you know? I wanted to look good for practice," she replied, her voice light and airy. But even as she spoke, her thoughts were drifting—drifting to the team, to the men she knew would be there, and to the secret she was keeping under her tennis skirt. The thrill of knowing she wasn't wearing any panties sent a small shiver of excitement through her, but she kept her composure, maintaining that air of innocence that Savannah seemed so keen to test.
Savannah wasn't fooled, not completely. She arched an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips as she looked back at the road. "You seem pretty worked up for a simple practice," she teased, her voice laced with amusement. "What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"
Brooke bit her lip, fighting back the smile that threatened to break through. "Oh, nothing much," she replied, her tone playful yet vague. "Just thinking about how fun it'll be to play today. I'm really in the mood to hit some balls."
Savannah laughed, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Is that all? Or are you more excited about who'll be watching you hit those balls?" she pressed, her tone still teasing but with an edge of seriousness. She was clearly testing Brooke, seeing how far she could push her, how much of Bambi was lingering just below the surface.
Brooke played along, shrugging her shoulders and giving another innocent smile. "Maybe a little of both," she admitted, her voice light. But inside, her mind was already wandering, imagining the eyes that would be on her as she stepped onto the court, the way the men on the team would look at her, the subtle glances and lingering stares. The thought of it made her pulse quicken, and she couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement. She might be playing innocent with Savannah, but there was no denying how much she loved the attention she knew she'd get.
As they pulled into the tennis club's private parking lot, Brooke felt a rush of anticipation. The club was a place of luxury and privilege, a playground for the city's wealthy elite. The last time she had been here, she had felt small, out of place, her confidence shaken by the sharp eyes and judgmental glances of the other members. But today was different. Today, she was in control—fully aware of the effect she had on those around her and ready to enjoy every second of it.
They stepped out of the car, and immediately, eyes were drawn to them both. Brooke felt the stares as they walked toward the entrance, but instead of shrinking under the scrutiny, she reveled in it. She made sure her movements were deliberate, each step confident and smooth, her hips swaying ever so slightly as she walked. As they passed a well-dressed man on his way to the golf course, his gaze lingered a little too long, and Brooke, feeling daring, blew him a playful kiss. The man's eyes widened in surprise, but the corners of his lips curved into an appreciative smile. The rush of power Brooke felt from that simple gesture was electrifying, and she couldn't help but giggle softly as she turned back to Savannah.
"Looks like someone's feeling herself today," Savannah remarked with a grin, clearly impressed by Brooke's confidence.
Brooke flashed her a mischievous smile. "Just having a little fun," she replied, her voice sweet but with an edge of flirtation. Inside, she was thrilled—thrilled to be walking into this space with her head held high, to be the center of attention, and to know that she was in full control of how she was perceived. It was a stark contrast to how she'd felt the last time she was here, when the mere thought of all those eyes on her had made her stomach churn with anxiety.
As they walked through the grand entrance and into the cool, marble-floored lobby of the club, Brooke couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. She was no longer the shy, unsure girl who had once felt out of place in this world. Now, she was Brooke—confident, alluring, and completely in tune with who she was becoming. And as she made her way toward the tennis courts, she knew that today would be different. Today, she was ready to embrace every moment, every glance, every whisper—because today, she was exactly where she wanted to be.
As they strolled through the grand entrance of the tennis club, Brooke couldn't help but marvel at how natural it all felt. The last time she had been here, Blake had struggled to keep up appearances, feeling the weight of every judgmental glance and whispered critique. But today, there was no sign of Blake. He hadn't even made an appearance. It was Brooke, fully and completely, from the moment she'd slipped out of bed that morning until now, walking confidently beside Savannah.
Brooke had expected some part of Blake to push through, to remind her of the anxiety that used to cling to every visit to the club. But instead, there had been nothing—just a quiet, distant echo, like a memory of someone she used to be. The hesitation, the self-doubt, the constant questioning of whether she belonged—none of it had surfaced. Instead, Brooke had taken over with ease, embracing every step, every glance, and every moment of attention with a confidence that felt as natural as breathing.
Even as she blew that playful kiss to the man walking toward the golf course, it was Brooke who smiled, Brooke who felt the thrill of his reaction, and Brooke who kept walking without a second thought. The lines that once blurred between Blake and Brooke had solidified, leaving her with a sense of clarity and assurance she hadn't realized she was capable of. It wasn't just that Bambi's influence had taken hold—Brooke had fully emerged, leaving Blake behind in the shadows, not as an afterthought, but as a conscious choice.
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The realization settled over her like a warm blanket, comforting and empowering all at once. Brooke wasn't just a persona she slipped into; she was who she had become, who she wanted to be. For the first time, she knew that Blake wouldn't be making an appearance anytime soon. This was Brooke's moment, and she was more than ready to own it.
