“That’s ridiculous,” Leo sputtered. “What, like you know everything about relationships now? You find the rare, perfect girlfriend, and suddenly you’re an expert? Maybe Amy wasn’t right for me. But it wasn’t a fucking trend.”
“Uh-huh. Remember Lori? She had an ego bigger than that bruise on your face. Thought she was God’s gift because she was in charge of that a cappella group. And before her there was Emily, and also Stacia your sophomore year. Every one of those girls was an ice queen. And I’m not talking about the hockey kind of ice.”
Leo cringed. “So what? They were kind of frosty. Doesn’t mean anything.”
“Just a big coincidence, then,” DJ scoffed. “Your taste changed after high school, right? You just happened to start liking women who never smile, except into the mirror.”
“You’re a pain in the ass, D.” Leo was tired of being psychoanalyzed.
“That’s probably true. But I’m your pain in the ass. Stop dating bitchy women already. I’m begging here.”
“I’m not dating anybody.” Ever again, probably. “Too much on my plate, anyway.”
“Fair enough. Is Coach going to play you tomorrow?”
“I wish I knew.”
“Good luck!”
“Thanks.”
They hung up, and Leo was even grumpier than he’d been before. So he gave up on resting and put on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. The hotel undoubtedly had a gym. He would find it, maybe run a couple of miles on the treadmill. Obviously, he needed to burn off some of the shit swirling around in his head.
But when he left his room, he saw Georgia step into an elevator, wearing tennis clothes and carrying her racket case over her shoulder. Before he could get there, its doors closed.
It was almost like seeing a ghost.
He waited for another elevator, and when one arrived, Silas was on it, wearing workout clothes, too. “Hey, man! Coming to the gym?”
Leo hesitated. “I have a sudden urge to play tennis. You think there’s a court?”
Silas shrugged. “Dunno. Ask the concierge. You know we’re doing Thai food later, right?”
“Sure. I saw it on the schedule.” Leo chuckled.
“Well, bring your gold card. It’s the first restaurant meal on the road. O’Doul’s gonna order every expensive thing on the menu and leave you with the bill. Rookie dinner. It’s a tradition.”
Ah, of course it was. “Good to know.” The elevators parted in the lobby. “Catch you later? Come hungry, I guess.”
“Sure thing.”
Leo sought out the concierge desk. “Hey there. I heard there was somewhere to play tennis nearby?”
“Right next door—it’s a good club. They take walk-ins.” The woman in the gold blazer smiled at him.
“Great.” He smiled back at her. “My next question is whether you have any rackets back there for idiots who forgot theirs.”
“Of course we do.”
* * *
Five minutes later he was armed with a cheap racket and directions to the tennis club in the next building over. He found Georgia warming up opposite a preppy young man in tennis whites, who was blatantly staring at her chest. “So what do you want to practice?” the guy asked her, his eyes like lasers on her cleavage. “Have you worked on your slice yet?”
A flash of barely concealed amusement flashed through Georgia’s eyes. Leo could almost see her wheels turning. Her gaze said, I’ll school you on your slice . . .
That would have been worth watching, too. Except that Leo’s inner caveman couldn’t stand by and let another man practice with Georgia if he was available. “Hey there,” he heard himself say. “Can I play, too?”
Both Georgia and her ogler turned at the same time. “Private lesson,” Preppy Dude said dismissively.
Georgia raised an eyebrow at him, as if to ask, What are you doing here?
“That’s a shame,” Leo said. “Because now I won’t know if I can still beat her in straight sets.”
“What?” Georgia yelped. “That is not how I remember it.” She crossed her arms under her sports bra, and Leo had to look away to avoid becoming an ogler of her cleavage, too.
“I won sometimes,” he insisted. “I’m pretty sure.”
She rolled her eyes. “Get over here. Somebody needs a spanking.”
Holy hell. She didn’t mean it like it sounded, but he liked hearing it anyway.
Leo moseyed over to the opposite side of the court, and the tennis pro reluctantly stepped back. “All right, guys. Let’s see how well you’re matched,” he said.
“You need to warm up?” she asked, giving the ball a bounce. “Wouldn’t want you to strain anything.”
“Serve it up. Or I’m going to think you’re stalling.”
Her eyebrows furrowed. “Love all,” she said.
Leo only had a split second to wonder how the word “love” had ever come to mean “zero” in tennis talk before the ball came flying over the net. He swung, returning it. She sliced the ball back nice and easy, and just like that they had a pretty good rally going. They used to hit together pretty frequently when they had just started dating. Not only were they both athletes, but the tennis club was somewhere they could spend time together and nobody questioned anyone’s motives.
Although, back in the old days, Georgia never took things easy on him the way she was now.
Leo returned the ball harder and right on the singles line, catching her by surprise. She didn’t quite make it there in time, and the ball was in. So it was his point.
Without comment, she retrieved it. “Love, fifteen,” she said calmly. Then she served it a bit faster than last time. And it was on. The battle slowly escalated, each of them ramping up their foot speed and effort. The first game got to deuce before Georgia edged him out. He won the second game, but the third went to her after she aced him on the last serve.
“I guess your slice is pretty solid,” the tennis pro mumbled at one point.
They were both sweating now. Georgia walked over to the side and grabbed a water bottle, taking a gulp and then holding it out to him.
“Thanks,” he said, taking the bottle, admiring the light sheen of sweat on her chest. But then she stalked back to her corner and frowned, ready for the next game.
Leo bounced the ball and caught it again, preparing to serve. He’d forgotten how this felt—the single-mindedness of tennis. Playing Georgia quieted the worrying in his head, because whenever he forgot to focus on that fuzzy little ball, it always went poorly. And this was fun. Sports without life-altering consequences on the line. What a revelation. There was a time in his life when hockey had been just a game, but that time was long gone.