L: Find a GirLfriend

Ann

Dedicated to Nick Wesley, future athletic burnout. Try not to do that, please.

Every once and a while, I'll go out to play tennis.

I don't play a match usually, but I'll serve against a wall or a section of fence.

This time, another generic, young couple was playing a round. The woman was skilled and highly competitive, the man trying his best. I'll leave it at that. He practically ran away to get a drink, but the distance he was running said otherwise.

"Hey! Hey, you! Freaky guy!"

What a shame they didn't get along better, she was just so irresistibly charming. From her spunky tied-so-far-back-I-think-her-skin-is-stretching ponytail to her cutesy white athletic outfit

"Wanna have a match? I'm sure anyone, even you, is a better opponent than my fiance."

So we set up, and played one round.

"Wow... you're... you're really good. Do you want to play a full-"

"Yes."

So we did. People gathered around to watch, I will say, it was a fairly exciting match. The satisfying sensation of force through a racket became familiar once again, the drive competition breathed through me as an ebb and floe. Her ponytail whipped through the air as she stared a metaphorical hole through the happily unaware fuzzy ball. She had put up a fair fight, but halfway through, she became less coordinated and sloppier. I think we know who won.

"Damn! You..." she had to catch her breath, "You're good. I call a rematch. This time, here, in t-two days!"

"Sure."

"O-Okay. Okay."

Her fiance returned, Gatorade in hand, and they walked to their Lexus hybrid together.

But I kept practicing. I didn't want to stop. I wasn't satisfied. I still wasn't when I went home, I only did because Watari took my racket. It was almost absolute darkness outside by then.

"Ryuzaki, why did you practice all day? It's unlike you."

He stopped for a minute and looked back at me.

"Don't tell me you're going back into the competition. No. You are not going to do that again."

All that happened was two suicides, an alcoholic tennis trainer, and a broken window.

"I wasn't going to go back into competition."

"Did you play a match, then?"

"Yes."

He breathed a sigh. "Ryuzaki, competing like that again won't do anything for you. Besides, her? She's ENGAGED, and a monster. You do not want that. Whatever you're looking for isn't with her."

Maybe I don't. Maybe. She was cute. Her butt was cute. [Dear Ryuzaki is a guy, and all guys need things. I'm sure he didn't HAVE to grab Misa's butt to get her cellphone, but he did.]

The next two days were spent as the last: Practice. The only bad side of it was how tired I was when I was finished. Just staying tired, all night, and doing it again the next day, only to feel exponentially more exhausted if that;'s even a possibility. Odds rose from 15% chance of collapse, 2% chance of breakdown to 40% chance of collapse, 29% chance of breakdown. Guess what 40% I became a part of. I woke up with Watari and Claire hovering over me, Watari barking at Claire to call the emergency services.

"No, no. He's waking up."

"Oh! Are you alright? What happened?"

"I think", Claire said, as she was pulling him out of my face, "He's very tired. You should head off to bed, and try to get some rest. You're going to need it if you carry on like this."