Until Then. // denis shapovalov - sascha zverev

0.1 - arrival to ny

"Hey! How was practice?!" I smile to my best friend as he opens the door and shuffles into the passenger seat of my car, shoving his bulky tennis bag between his feet.

"Absolutely exhausted. We had extra cardio today," he says, clicking in his seatbelt. Sweat glistens off his forehead. "Thanks for picking me up though, my car should be out of the shop by next week, I think."

I pull out of the fire lane and turn onto the road. "Don't worry about it! You give me a reason to get out of the house for an hour. So, are you ready for next week?" I ask.

"You know I always get nervous before tournaments. I'm not sure. Guess there's not much I can do to get any more ready than I already am. When are you heading over?" Dominic asks me.

It's dark out, but it's only 7pm, which means he had an early end to his training today. I shrug, "I think my team wants me there a few days before to set up our room, so probably Tuesday? New York... I've never been. I don't even know what to pack."

Dominic and I met in a bar while I attended the University of Vienna for journalism a few years ago. Being from the US, going to a school on a different continent was absolutely intimidating, but after meeting Domi, my entire University experience changed. We grew closely, quickly, and hung out almost every day during that period. And now, we have every time we get the chance.  Even though we met later in life, it doesn't undermine our extremely close friendship. He's the reason why I even have a job in the sports industry. Well, I think that, but he always credits my grit. While I was in college, working my way up to a degree, he was on the tennis courts, working his way up to being ranked sixth in the world. And as soon as I finished college, he connected me with a few of his friends and the next thing I know, my family and I are on a plane, moving to Europe, on our way to pursue my dream as a journalist. Now I'm 23 and working in the US Open next week as one of my company's producers, my biggest gig yet.

With more sport journalism opportunity in Europe, we moved to Austria a few years ago, and I had a few small opportunities here and there. For some reason, everything worked out in favor of my family... like fate. My parents both found well-paying jobs in Vienna, and I recently ended up getting a job in Germany, where my sister is for University, so we share an apartment there. I had the best of both worlds: a home in Germany for work, and a home in Austria with family, and a company that pays for all my flights.

I turn into the parking lot of Austria's finest restaurant... Dom's house. I'm not kidding, his mom makes the best pancakes in the world, and pancakes for dinner is a must. Plus, with Dom being on a strict diet before tournaments, pancakes were the closest thing we could get to 'unhealthy.'

"I am starving! I waited, like, 300 years for you to finish practice," I complain as I hop out my car and jog up to the front door. His house was massive, three times the size of mine, but it still felt like a home more than a mansion.

Dom jogs up behind me and I push the door open, always unlocked. We slip off our shoes and he throws his tennis bag onto the floor as we make our way into the kitchen where my eyes meet with a large stack of pancakes and fruit.

"Hey, you two! How was it?" Mrs. Thiem smiles as she comes from around the corner with another stack of pancakes.

"Meh," Dom shrugs and we find a seat on the island, getting ready to dig in. "We've been working on getting more spin on my shots, but nothing special." He takes a bite of his plain pancake with some strawberries. "I've been getting a little nervous on my second serve too, but we have a few more days to lock it down. Willow leaves soon." He says, turning the attention back to me.

I, on the other hand, reach to pour a gallon on syrup over my stack... Can't forget my American roots. "My flight leaves on Tuesday for work, so I really have to pack and get ready," I say. "My first overseas trip as a journalist... I haven't even been back to America since I've moved here. I also definitely need to do my research with everything that has to do with tennis." Even though my best friend is Dom, I can't say that I know any more than a snail does about tennis. 

"I just called your mother about that!" Karin smiles. "I promised to take good care of you, but our flight is on Thursday, so you better just stay shut in your room for two days before we get there!"

"Ha ha," I smile with a mouth full of strawberries. "Even if I wanted to go out, I won't even have time. Mishca is literally making me run around the town finding props and games for the interviews we have lined up! Plus, I still have to make a schedule for the players who are a lot more obnoxious about their time then I thought they would be!"

We chat for another hour or so before I head back to my parent's home. Three more days and I'd be on a plane to New York... wow.

-THREE DAYS LATER-

"Yes, we just landed! I gotta go! Talk soon, love you!" I say into my phone before hanging up on my mom. Mischa, my boss, and three other teammates and I, were cramped in the back of a company car that just pulled into the parking lot of our hotel. The rest of our team arrived on Thursday, with the players. I follow everyone out of the car and into the hotel.

"Alright guys, here are your room cards," Mischa says as he hands us our personal cards. "We're one floor below the players floor, so I apologize if it gets loud at times. Go ahead and rest for the rest of toady and I'll send out an email of all the things we need to get done over the computer and phone. Oh, and your luggage should already be in your room." His phone buzzes and he looks down. "Sorry, I gotta take this. My obnoxious younger brother just flew in and can't seem to figure out his way around an airport. Alright, relax and just adjust to the area! I'll see you all tomorrow." He answers the phone call and walks away. He really is a great boss.

I've heard of his younger brother before from Dom, and with the amount of times Mischa's complained about him, I just never really looked into it. I don't even know his name. I smile with my teammates and we walk into the elevator to the 53rd floor. "This is so crazy, guys," I squeal.

"This is my hundredth time journaling abroad, and the excitement never leaves!" Ada smiles. She's my favorite person on the team. Although she's my mom's age, she always has the best stories to tell, and always has everyone's back on everything. We reach the 53rd floor and walk to our rooms. After a 9-hour flight, we were all exhausted. I scan the key and walk into my room that smells like cleaning products and throw myself onto the bed for a nap.

-

Shit! I think in my head and sit up immediately. I check the clock beside me and see it blinking. 6:45pm. I think in my head for a bit before recognizing the time. I spent two years learning military time just to forget standard time. I get up slowly and open the blinds to reveal one of the most gorgeous views of Long Island. I was so exhausted I haven't even looked around the hotel yet. I check my phone and see a few emails from Mischa, but I decide to grab dinner before sitting down to work. I slip out of my room, and head downstairs into the lobby. They must have a food nearby. As I stand in the elevator alone, I smell myself. Disgusting. I think. I haven't changed since the airport. I must look like a mess.

The elevator dings and I walk out. The lobby was actually quite huge. It seemed like there were a few private rooms, lounge areas, pool tables, and even a giftshop and small restaurants. I decide to stay in the hotel, embarrassed by my appearance, and walk over to a café. Wow... An actual American menu, again. I smile as I read through the sign of choices. As much as I love living in Europe, a part of me will always have a guilty pleasure for American food. I settle on a cookie and turkey sandwich.

"Thank you," I smile as I take my order. The lobby was pretty empty, I think because the tournament rented out the whole thing for staff and players. I find a group of chairs and table and sit down as I begin to dig into my meal. As I eat, I mentally plan out my outfit for tomorrow and try to envision how amazing the stadium must look. Three more days until the greatest opportunity of my life.