Matchpoint

Part 1: The Initial Idea

And here we are, the first ever record of Matchpoint. I mean wayyyyy before the name and even before I finalised the central idea. In the first draft, Clove was actually a player that would end up touring alongside Dom. They'd play doubles together and end up falling in love. But I'd read many books like that, I felt like I'd be copying one of my favourite books, "The Harper Effect". So it was back to the drawing board 😉

But before Clove was a coach, she was a player yet to face the big leagues!

So, I present....The Initial Idea

20/02/2024

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I can sense him watching from behind me, I don't even have to turn to know the exact feeling of being watched by him. He's been lingering a lot lately, like a thief waiting for the right time to steal.
I go to toss the ball up in the air and poise my arm behind to hit the serve, but his presence is throwing me off, and I'd rather die then embarrass myself in front of him.
Whirling around, I face him with a butter glare.
"What do you want Dom?" I growl, but I'm faced with a smug smirk, his eyebrows raised and his arms crossed.
"Hello to you too, Clove." Dom walks towards me.
"I don't feel up to talking to you." I grumble.
"Well that's a shame, because I've been in the mood to talk to you all day." He's walking closer, his fire orange hair peaking from beneath his Nike cap. His skin is glistening from a mix of sunscreen and sweat and he smells of his cologne. I would be lying if i said his cologne had zero effect on me, because the truth is, it's intoxicating.
"Spit it out Dom." I bounce the tennis ball on the ground and stare up into his freckeled face.
"I was thinking, watching and well...I think we should train together." The laughter gets caught in my throat and I choke out a wheeze.
"Hilarious, Dom." I'm not a star player, I play doubles occasionally with my best friend, nothing else.
"I'm serious, you make me better Clove. You're just that good. You could be playing in the big leagues yourself, if you weren't so afraid of a little competition." Dom smirks, flicking my cap with his finger. My heart jumps a little, he always teases me like this, making me feel jittery with anticipation.
"I'm not afraid of competition, Fraser, in fact, I thrive in competition." I shove his hand away and place my hand on my hip. "I just don't feel the need to play competitively, it'd take the fun out of it for me." I explain and head towards my bags.
"But Clove, I see you play, the way you hit the ball, the way you serve. You're flawless and it's clear you're searching for something more, you need the competition, to feel like you could win something out of it...which you could." Dom follows closely and I just want to push him away, to tell him to back off.
"I'm not interested." I shove my racket into my bag and swing it over my shoulder.
A hand grasps hold of the strap and Dom whirls me around to face him.
"One shot, give it a go Clove. You against me, a proper game, if you win, I'll drop it, if I win, you enter a competition." He smirks.
"I'm not doing that." I give him a deadpan stare.
"Scared I'll beat you?" He questions, poking his tongue out.
"No, I've played players better than you, since I was six." I argue and Dom crosses his arms, his muscles tensing beneath his glistening skin.
Slowly he leans down, his lips at level with my ear. "Prove it." He pulls away with a grin and shrugs slightly.
My blood boils, the steam is streaming out my ears and I can feel every part of my body tense.
"Fine!" I snap. "I'll do it, but only if you promise to let this go."
Dom's eyes sparkle with excitement. "Deal." He holds his hand out for me to shake and I stare at it with disgust.
Scoffing, I turn and walk away, leaving him standing in the middle of the court.