Teach Me Something I Don't Know

1

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Monte Carlo. The temperature outside is ten degrees celsius. We wish you a pleasant stay and happy holidays."

The end of the pilot's message was drowned out by the shuffling inside the airplane cabin as everyone got out of their seats and began taking their bags out of the overhead compartments. The flight from Paris had only been an hour and a half long, but there had been a few bouts of turbulence that had made it more unpleasant than it should have been. Everyone was in a hurry to get out and begin their vacations.

Only one girl was still sitting. She was in the second-to-last row, and knew she wouldn't be able to step off the aircraft for a while still. So she remained in her seat with her earphones in, trying to ignore the stiffness in her legs. Although she hated to admit it, her heart was racing in her chest, and a part of her wished she never had to get off the plane. Still, her face betrayed no emotions as she finally got up and grabbed her suitcase. It showed no more emotion as she passed through immigration and had her passport stamped. She only allowed herself a brief look of panic as she studied herself in the bathroom mirror before stepping out of the airport. She pulled her shoulder-length hair into a high ponytail and attempted to fix her bangs with her fingers so it didn't look like she hadn't showered in two days. Her dress was a little rumpled, but she didn't feel like changing into something else in a cramped bathroom stall. It would have to do. And anyways, she reasoned, it wasn't like anyone was expecting her to look like a model after two days of travelling. So she popped mint-flavoured gum into her mouth and reapplied her lipstick before stepping out of the washroom and heading towards the airport doors. On the other side, she could make out a large crowd of people watching the doors anxiously in search of loved ones and family members. She wondered if anyone would be waiting for her. It was what they had agreed to, in the last email, but she couldn't help but wonder if he would have forgotten. She had never been to Monte Carlo, and even if she did speak French (it was in fact the main reason she was there), she wouldn't know what to do alone in a new city.

Finally, she crossed the glass doors, and found herself face-to-face with the crowd on the other side. Her heart was beating wildly, but no one seemed to take notice of her. If anything, the few people that glanced at her seemed disappointed to find out she was not the person they were waiting for. She drew a shaky breath and kept on walking. Surely someone would be there for her with a sign, or something! Too soon, though, she made it through the crowd with no sign of anyone recognizing her. She slowed to a stop and looked around, her eyebrows furrowed with worry. Could it be that her worst nightmare was about to become real? Without realizing it, she began talking to herself, a habit she had never been able to shake.

"What on earth do I do now? I don't have his number, I don't have his address... I don't even have a place to stay tonight!"

The gum in her mouth was beginning to taste bitter. She tried to ignore her rising panic, the knots in her stomach, and looked carefully at the thinning crowd again, hoping that she had perhaps missed something the first time around.

Finally, she spotted him. A tall man in his early twenties was slouching in a corner, not far from the doors. He had messy blond hair and seemed more interested in his phone than in his surroundings. But it had to be him.

She made her way to him, dragging her heavy suitcase behind her, wondering what she should say to him when she reached him. Hi, my name is Rita, I'm your French tutor? Or perhaps: Hi, I'm Rita, I'm a huge fan of yours, I—

"Hi." Lost in her thoughts, she had almost bumped into him, and now she didn't know what to say.

He looked up. "Hi?" Suddenly his face lit up. "Oh, you must be Margarita! Sorry, I thought your flight had been delayed! How are you? I hope you had a good flight?"

"Uh... yeah." Still in shock, she was having a hard time forming coherent thoughts, let alone sentences. "Yeah, I'm Rita. You must be Alexander Zverev."

He smiled widely and motioned to grab her suitcase. "So what happened? The screens said your flight would be thirty minutes late."

"I don't know. We were running behind schedule in Paris, but apparently the pilot made good time so we got here earlier than expected."

He nodded. "Not too tired?"

"A bit jet lagged," she admitted, "but nothing too serious. I already had to spend the night in Paris during my layover, so I'm already getting used to the time zone."

"You're from Canada, right?"

"Toronto."

"What's the time difference?"

"About six hours, I think."

They were now standing in front of a black car, which Rita assumed was Alexander's, although she could barely remember how they'd gotten there. She must've been more tired than she thought. Alexander loaded her suitcase and her bag into the trunk and climbed into the driver's seat. Rita sank into the passenger seat and stifled a yawn. He kept talking, about the weather, the city, what he liked about Toronto ("The stadium is pretty amazing and the sights are amazing! And I love the amusement park, what was it called again?"), but Rita couldn't bring herself to answer. She looked out the window at the palm trees in the side of the road. She should've been excited, she kept telling herself. She was in the same car as Alexander Zverev, the most promising tennis player on the ATP tour, and he was talking to her! Better yet, she'd be spending a whole year by his side! It was enough to make any tennis fan green with envy, so why wasn't she enjoying it? It had to be the jet lag, she decided. Although it was true that she had spent the night in Paris, she hadn't slept more than three hours and she was having a hard time keeping her eyes open. She remembered how she hated to travel and god, why had she agreed to this job? She would be spending the vast majority of her time on planes and in airports! The thought did nothing to improve her darkening mood.

Meanwhile, Alexander had drifted into a somewhat hurt silence. He had noticed after a while that she wasn't listening to him, and wondered if she found him annoying. He hadn't known how he should behave around her and had decided that being friendly was the best way to go. But she hadn't seemed eager to talk, and he began wondering if she would expect them to maintain a fully professional relationship the whole time. He was used to joking around with his team (whenever it was appropriate of course), but maybe she didn't work that way? She had seemed so friendly in the video she had sent a little under a year ago, when the ATP announced their plans to hire language tutors for the players so they could learn some new skills outside the court. He had found the idea amazing, he'd always wanted to study French, and now he'd have the opportunity to have a tutor all to himself! He'd been the first to sign up, and the first to go through the videos prospective tutors from around the world had sent in. And he had finally chosen her, the baby-faced Canadian girl who spoke amazing French and had presented herself as a dedicated tennis fan and tennis player. It hadn't hurt that she was pretty as well.

But now... she still looked the same as she had in her video, still had the same dark curls, still wore colourful clothes, but the joy that illuminated her face seemed to have disappeared. He hoped she was just tired.

The mood didn't lighten up when they finally reached his appartement. He gave her a brief tour of the place, and she quickly wished him good night. It was only seven, he wanted to say, but he could see the exhaustion in her eyes, and decided to keep quiet. He had hoped to discuss the plans for the year with her over dinner (likely consisting of cold pizza because who had time to cook?), but it was clear it would have to wait. He flopped onto the couch with a sigh and grabbed a book from the coffee table.

This was not at all what he had expected.

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A/N: Hey guys! This is my first time writing, so please let me know what you think! :)

-Ryka