Matchpoint

Chapter 11:

As 8:30pm. rolls around, I've made my way down to my tennis court, and I'm sitting in the centre with my headphones on and my eyes closed. I'm blasting my mix and watching the stars above me.

Suddenly, a tennis ball whizzes past my head. It is inches from my ear, any closer, and it would've nicked my ear.

My head flies to behind me, and I spot the tall lanky figure standing in the shadows, his racket poised above his head and a bag slung over his shoulder.

"Evening Dunn, didn't mean to catch you off guard." Dom steps into the light, his orange hair free from its cap, and a grin glints against his face.

Slowly, I rise to my feet and place my headphones on my bag, decidedly taking out my racket.

"How was your afternoon?" I ignore his comment and make my way to the middle of the court so that we meet at the net. Dom smirks, his eyes scan my face with curiosity.

"Fine, but I've been looking forward to beating you all afternoon, so there is a lot of adrenaline pumping." Dom winks as he walks backwards to the baseline.

Without an ounce of self conciousness, Dom begins hoping from foot to foot, allowing the energy to move freely around his body. I wait for him to stop before I serve the first ball, watching as it flies across the net and lands right where I wanted it to. Dom returns it swiftly, not a sound as he does so.

Our rally continues in a similar fashion, neither of us choosing to break the silence or one up the other. Dom makes a few attempts to throw me off guard with his returns, but I've seen them all before, I know what he's about to do just by the way he holds his racket.

"So," Dom begins, finally slicing the silence with his smooth voice. "Jayce tells me that you are, in fact, curious about my old coach."

Fuck. Trust the golden retriever not to go run and tell his playmate.

"I may have asked him if he knew anything." I grunt, sending the ball sparing over the net in frustration.

"Why are you so curious?" Dom queries, but he doesn't seem mad. Instead, he is smirking, as if he loves that I'm dying to know this little secret.

"I like knowing who I'm working with." I respond, and Dom pouts slightly.

"I thought you had me all covered, I thought you had already profiled me that asshole." Dom teases, and the ball lands inches from my racket, so I swiftly smack it back.

My sudden panic causes my hit to soar way out of bounds, and in return, Dom grants me with a triumphant smile.

"I just think my parents deserve to know the truth." I retort, my racket falling to my side.

Dom chuckles, retrieving a ball from the sideline. "They already do."

"Why can't I, then?" I hate the desperation, the sudden frustration that my parents know more about Dom than I do.

"Because you've told me nothing about yourself." Dom responds, bouncing the ball on the ground a few times, patiently waiting for me to get into position.

"What do you want to know?" I state earnestly, and Dom's eyes rise from the ground, his eyebrow slightly raised as his gaze meets mine.

"Why you chose not to play tennis." The words slip from his lips elegantly, as if he was expecting me to know that that's what he is most curious about.

Silence. That is all that echoes between us and Dom eases up into a standing position, eyes scanning me, waiting for a response. When it does not come, Dom walks towards the net, placing his hands against it and tilting his head sideways. "How about this," he begins. "We rally until one of us wins. When we win, we ask a question. We can go back and forth till we're too exhausted to raise our rackets anymore."