Love Means Nothing... In Tennis ;)

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

     “Steffi, I’m really proud of you,” Dad told me at the dinner table. Training had finished half an hour ago and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t eager to get home and away from Ryder. Training with him was different and weird. He was good at tennis but he could use some improving. We argued and criticised each other about everything.

     The sexual innuendos were barely tolerable.

     “Oh god Dad, who did you knock up this time?” I joked, a little taken back from his comment.

     Dad chucked loudly and shook his head. “Kiddo, I’m serious. You took having a doubles partner more maturely than I expected you to have.”

     I faked a gasp. “What’s that supposed to mean? Do I usually take things immaturely?” He stared at me as if I were asking him a rhetorical question. I rolled my eyes. “Okay yeah, I guess I didn’t overreact like how I normally would.”

     “And do you want to know why you didn’t overreact?” I shook my head although I knew he was going to tell me anyway. “Because I have a feeling that you like Micah.”

     I nearly choked on my pasta and began laughing hysterically. What did my dad just say? “That. Is. A. Good. One. Dad, you’re hilarious! Instead of being a pro tennis player you should have been a comedian.”

     Dad glared at me for laughing at him. “I’m just saying how I see it.”

     “And I’m telling you that it’s not going to happen. I don’t like him and I probably never will. He's too annoying.”

     Dad shook his head again. “One day you’ll see.”

     And one day I’ll prove you wrong, Dad.

     The next day was just like any ordinary day. The only thing out of the norm was training. For me,

everything was always a routine. Usually I would wake up, eat breakfast, suffer at school, go training, go home, eat dinner, do homework after procrastinating for a few hours and then finally sleep. My life was extremely repetitive and, of course, boring. The only thing I ever looked forward to was playing tennis but today's training session was completely different to what I was used to.

     When I arrived at the tennis courts, Ryder was already there warming up. He probably had his own car while I had to walk half an hour in the heat to get here. Sighing, I dropped my bags to the ground, took out my racquet and gave it a small hug. What could I say? I loved my racquet.

     Ryder was practicing his serves and from what I could see so far, he wasn’t doing too well. I knew his weakness was serving and he definitely needed to prove in that area in order for us to win our matches and, hopefully, the competition. However, since Ryder was left-handed, it gave us a small advantage since lefty serves are generally harder to return. 

     I began carefully observing his serving technique to see if there was something I could help him with. After a short while, I figured out that the problem was his ball toss. He was either throwing the ball too high, too low, too far forward or too far back. All he needed to do was practice his tosses instead of hitting his serves harder which wasn't benefiting him at all. He was so determined to hit the ball fast and hard that most of his attempts landed more than a metre away from the service box. 

     I couldn't help myself. A small laugh escaped and I quickly covered my mouth with my hands.

     Instantly, Ryder stopped what he was doing and his deep blue eyes began glaring at me. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to laugh,” I admitted sheepishly. His gaze tore away from mine as he went to pick the ball up.