I catch Kiara's eye as she walks onto the court, skirt swishing as she gives me a wave, and my heart rate speeds up. Yesterday's conversation is like a bittersweet memory in my head. She asked where we were at now, and I said I wasn't sure, even when I knew exactly what I wanted.
As Kiara approaches, she pulls her ponytail tight, giving me a confident nod. I grip my racket a little harder than I need to, trying to focus on the game rather than how good she looks.
"You ready? I've been practicing, you know?" she teases, bouncing the tennis ball a few times.
I give her a lopsided smile. "Only if you think you can handle it."
We take our positions on opposite sides of the court, the playful banter doing little to ease the tension that's been building since yesterday. My grip tightens on the racket as I prepare for her serve, watching her closely. The way she moves- fluidly, clean, effortlessly- makes it harder and harder to focus on the game.
Focus, Theo.
She serves the ball with precision, and, while I should've been able to return it, I can't. I've got to get a grip on myself. "Nice one," I say, grabbing my eyes with hers.
"Thanks," she replies, her eyes turned upwards. "I've been practicing."
The match continues, with each of us trading serves, the back-and-forth game almost hypnotic. Between each hit, I catch her looking at me, and my heart skips a beat. Her laughter fills the air when I make a bad shot, and she playfully rolls her eyes when I return one of her serves too fast for her to reach- it's intoxicating in the best possible way.
We take a break after a few rallies and make our way to the net. We're standing on either side, the net barely separating us.
"You're getting better," I say, trying to sound casual even though my pulse is racing.
She grins as her big brown eyes bore into mine, her fingers brushing the net. "Thank you," A small pinkness erupts on her face, "It's because of your serve tactic, it really helped."
I smile as she mirrors my gesture, showing her white teeth perfectly. I can hear her steady breathing as she looks down for a moment, then returns her gaze to mine. The game disappears, and her face stares up at me.
It's like time paused. Right up until someone shouts:
"Hey lovebirds, pass me the damn ball!"
A tennis ball rolls in front of my feet, snatching my gaze from Kiara's eyes and onto the floor. I pick up the ball sheepishly and toss it to the elder man on the court beside us, rasing an apologetic hand.
Drawing out a ball from my pocket, I turn it in my hands, snapping my eyes up to Kiara's.
"Sorry about that."
She shakes her head, waving her hand halfheartedly before turning around and walking to the baseline opposite me, though I'm pretty sure I saw her face turn red.
I feel like I should say something funny to ease the awkwardness, but nothing comes to mind.
Instead, I offer her the ball. "Your serve."
