It was the week before the US Open, and all I could think about was the Australian sun beating down on my back, radiating off the bright green tennis court beneath my feet.
I had been on the court since 9 a.m., and the sun was slowly creeping toward the horizon. "I'm calling it," I blurted out to my coach. He seemed displeased with me quitting, but he would understand if he were in my body.
I had been practicing daily for hours, and my body needed a break. My coach packed up his things and left; he would soon see me in New York. I would need to train myself this week, since my coach has to go early.
I desperately needed to pack and shower, but I decided to work on my serving once more before going in. Since switching rackets due to sponsorships, I've been having trouble with toss and spin.
I hoped it would be fixed by the open, but nothing in tennis is guaranteed. I had to keep a strong mental state if I wanted to win. I cannot have any distractions in my head, that would be fatal - and I need this win to boost my rankings.
As I went inside, I was greeted by the Tennis Channel, reviewing the rankings and highlighting the Americans. A boy with curly brown hair, a muscular build, and dark eyes appeared on the screen. I had seen him before at tournaments and disliked his attitude. My friends rave about him, they think he is the preetiest boy in the world, I mean yeah he's hot, but his additude is enought to turn me off. Maybe if he just shut his mouth, people would like him better. Was that rude? The screen flashed his infamous celebration: he hung up the phone when he clinched the win against Sinner. "Cocky American," I whispered under my breath as I turned off the TV. I had bigger things to worry about than Ben Shelton.
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Love All • Ben Shelton
Teen Fictionenemies to lovers - two tennis players first turned enemies, but will their fire for each other show itself
