Zero Two Three One | John Laurens X Reader [Hamilton]

LXXVI: Twenty Listed Ways

"It could have!"

John scoops up the ball and approaches me. "So clearly you don't know anythin' 'bout tennis."

I open my mouth to argue, then bite my lip. "No..."

"I figured you didn't early on," John chuckles. "You were servin' from the wrong spot."

My cheeks burn with embarrassment. So he did know that I sucked... But he let me go on with trying to serve because...? I suppose he got a lot of amusement from it.

"I thought I'd be able to pick it up easily... It doesn't seem that hard."

"Don't feel bad," John pats my shoulder. "It took me a long time to get good at tennis."

"How long did it take you to learn how to send a ball across the court at the speed of light?" I drone.

"Still tryin' to figure that out," John laughs. He sets his racket on the ground, along with the ball, and focuses all of his attention on me. "I'll help you, (Y/N)."

"I don't want to waste your time," I frown. "I might be a hopeless case."

"You're not completely hopeless," John tilts his head. "I think you have a lot of potential. You just need to get the basics down."

"Alright, the basics... How many points do I need to win? What are the different swings called? Why does the ball-"

"I mean the absolute basics," John corrects. "How to stand. How to hold your racket. Things like that. The things I learned in my first tennis lesson."

It was tedious at first, being vehemently observed by John; I had to correct every little mistake in my positioning and hold the racket in just the right way, which was a lot harder than it seems when it feels so instinctively wrong.

But after a while, it gets easier to move around the court while maintaining my poise and grace.

When it came to learning how to hit the ball, I gained enough confidence to attack the venture with passion. Turns out, hitting the ball over the net is a lot easier than it seems; it just requires a lot of concentration and control. That's what John told me to focus on. Concentration and control.

I don't get why John is so patient, and why I've only seen him display this patience with me. It makes me dizzy with delight knowing that there is this private, softer side to John that only I am permitted to see and explore.

I can hear it in his soothing voice, which coos directions and suggestions to me with an elegant air. I can see it in his hazel eyes, which gaze upon me with such candid adoration. I can feel it in his warm hands, which skim across my skin as though touching a delicate butterfly.

Rather than concentration and control, I'm focused on John. God, he's magnificent.

♙♟♙♟♙

July 3, 2060.

I was awakened by the sound of my phone ringing. I groan and blindly reach out for it on the nightstand. When that doesn't work, I'm forced to sit up and actually find it. I snatch it, look down at the contact, then sigh. If it was anyone else other than Peggy, I would have totally ignored it... well, maybe if it were Charles.

I take the call. "Hello?"

"(Y/N)! You'll never believe what happened!"

She sounds far too energetic for me right now.

"Peggy, it's like five in the morning where I am." I whisper these words as to not wake up John, who lays comfortably next to me, lost in a deep sleep.