A/N

Heyy guyss!! Sorry to spoil your fun but it's a gentle warning that this chapter has quite a lot of Lawn Tennis discussed. As a result, there are a lot of related terms which you may not understand. To ease things I have attached a pic of a labeled tennis court at the end to help you a little. I'm sorry! I hope you enjoy this. But it was necessary to write this. I hope you stick around for it!
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I slammed my car door shut a little harder than necessary. The sound made me wince but I trudged on. The facility was good enough. One of the best I had seen, dare I say.

It wasn't too crowded and looking around at the people coming and going I could tell that it was a typical 'rich people' club. I sighed.

Jacob had let me know that all I had to do was introduce myself at the desk and collect my membership card with my recent photo on it. I could come and go as I pleased. The place had basketball courts, tennis courts, hockey grounds, and badminton courts. And don't forget the swimming pool.

I quickly did all the formalities and was guided by one of the over-eager employees towards the courts.

"Here we are," he gestured grandly towards the courts. I forced a polite smell.

"Yeah," I replied trying to sound enthusiastic.

"So . . . " he trailed off. I looked at him expectantly, keeping my irritation in check. The sounds of the racket making contact with the ball, the tapping sounds, the occasional screech of the shoes against the court were practically singing to me like the sirens.

"I'm Kyle," he finally said, his blue eyes sparkling. I tapped my foot on the ground impatiently.

"Okay?" I remarked, confused.

"Yeah," he deflated.

"Watch!" A voice shouted in warning and before I could react properly, I was hit by a rather fast-coming ball halfway in my process to turn.

"Ooof!" I groaned at the impact, rubbing my injured side. I picked up the ball, bending and carefully balancing my kit on my back.

I turned around to locate the offender and a tall boy in his late teens made an appearance. His brown hair was damp from the sweat. His dark chocolate eyes were unreadable. He jogged over to us steadily, racket in one hand bobbing up and down because of the motion. Even though he was wearing what almost any other male player was wearing on the courts - a loose T-shirt and a pair of knee-length boy-shorts - he stood out.  His skin was glistening in sweat and his muscles rippled as he jogged.

I realized I was ogling and snapped out of the daze.

He stopped a few feet away from me. I folded my arms across my chest and waited.

"Well?" I demanded.

"Ummm, the ball?" He asked in an irate tone. 

Unbelievable.

"What's it with hot boys and rudeness?" I grumbled under my breath, remembering Alexander and Lucian from school. I shook my head.

"Apologize first," I told him. He scoffed.

"I don't have time for this," he snapped, walking forward intimidatingly. I held my ground.

"You do if you want this fucking ball back," I snapped.

"Don't test me," he warned me.

"Awww, having a bad day, are we?" I cooed sarcastically.

"You're insufferable."

"Remember when I asked for your opinion? Well, me neither."

"The ball."

"The apology."

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"What's up?" A boy probably in his early twenties jogged up to us. I looked behind him to see a court was now empty. So that was Mr. Asshole's opponent. I gave him a once over. Brown hair, brown eyes, tall and well built. The similarities between them were uncanny. They must have been related. Siblings, I guessed.

"She won't give me the ball back," the asshole grumbled irritatingly.

"Why?" The other guy questioned.

"'Cause, she's a bitch," he said coolly looking me right in the eye. My jaw dropped open. He smirked. The newcomer shook his head disapprovingly.

"You know what? I'd kick you, but that would be animal abuse so I'm gonna let that one slide," I bit back. The newcomer visibly held back a laugh. The asshole's face reddened with anger.

"I recommend a blue shirt to go with that shade of red," I added mockingly.

"Remember when I asked for your opinion? Well, me neither," he mimicked me from minutes ago.

"Copy cat." 

"I could care less."

"Fuck off."

 Somewhere in between the argument, Kyle had disappeared and was nowhere to be seen.

"Ma'am," the newcomer addressed me politely, shifting my attention to him. Or rather, my hard glare. He had a huge smile on his face, unbothered by my hostility. "I apologize on his behalf. See, he's been having a bad day. It won't happen again."

At least he owned up.

"I guessed. It's okay," I gave him a half-smile, passing the ball to him. The asshole threw his hand up in the air in frustration dramatically. I rolled my eyes.

"Thanks," he replied as he caught the ball, "I'm Elijah, and that-" he pointed at the asshole "-is Benji."

"Benjamin," he corrected immediately.

I nodded, acknowledging Elijah.

"Isabelle."

"You play often?" He asked, tilting his head towards my equipment curiously.

"As often as I can," I smiled at the thought.

"Hmm . . .  How would you like to knock with us?"

"What?" Benjamin sputtered indignantly. I glanced at his face and hesitated.

"He won't be a problem," Elijah promised, answering my silent question.

Benjamin stomped away, his gait screaming rage.

Well, it was either them or go ask someone on the other courts to let me play. At least Elijah seemed nice.

I smiled politely.

"If it's not a problem, I'd love to. But I need a warm-up first."

"Of course it's not a problem," Elijah exclaimed. "See you in 20?"

I nodded.

"See you in 20," I repeated, walking towards an empty bench near the court and placing the kit against the bench. I decided to jog and then I stretched. I removed my cover-up and grabbed my racket - a Babolat Pure Drive - and made my way to Elijah's court. They were in the middle of a game so I stood near the net and hopped on the balls of my feet to keep warm I was itching to hit something. To pass time, I took a few steps back and took a few swings. It'd been almost a week since I'd last played because of all the packing-shifting-unpacking shit and I still felt out of practice as if I hadn't played in months.

"I'm sorry you had to wait," Elijah apologized after a while. "The deuce went on longer than we anticipated."

"It's alright," I shrugged.

"Who'd you like to play with?"

I thought for a moment.

"The one who won," I decided.

"Haha, that's cute," Benjamin remarked sarcastically and busied himself with his water. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?" I asked looking at him. He smiled smugly, thinking I was flirting. I laughed internally. After a pause, I continued, "'Cause I think you fell headfirst and impaired your brains."

Elijah guffawed and Benjamin scowled.

"That would be him," Elijah answered my previous question when his laughter ceased. I scrunched up my nose.

"I changed my mind," I replied. Benjamin scoffed.

"Ignore him," Elijah advised.

"Trust me, I'm trying."

"Heads or tails?"

"Heads."

He won the toss. I pouted.

"Service." He chose.

"Okay...best of seven?" I asked.

"Five." He corrected. I tried to hide my disappointment and nodded instead. "May the best player win."

"Oh, I will," I called over my shoulder and walked over to the baseline.

Finally. 

After all the wait, I'd finally hit something. Only one thing could make that better.

The ball be replaced by Benjamin's head. Too bad that wasn't a practical option. But it wouldn't harm to think it, right?

Ah, happy thoughts.

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Two all, thirty-forty.

Matchpoint for me.

I swiped my wristband across my forehead as I got into my receiving stance a few steps behind the baseline. I was tense, no doubt. We'd already had deuce twice before: the third and the fourth games because we'd become too aggressive and competitive by then.

The courts were filling up but even then, on the seven courts here less than 20 people were playing: the ones waiting for their turns included.

Elijah tapped the ball at his feet a few times, breathing out from his mouth. He eyed my position near the alleys and I shifted a little to cover as much more of the court as I could. He tossed the ball.

Whoosh.

It went past me. But it landed outside the service line.

"First fault," Benjamin called reluctantly. He was umpiring the match. And he wasn't rooting for me to win. Hence the forlorn tone. And there I thought that umpires were supposed to be neutral. How naïve of me.

Before Elijah could toss again, I held my hand up to stop him. The ball he'd missed his serve with had rolled on my side of the court after hitting the wall behind me. I tapped my racket over it with practiced ease and when it bounced up, I gently hit it towards Benjamin. He scowled but caught it. I rolled my eyes in response.

Less than two hours I'd known him yet it already felt like an old habit of ours.

I got back into place, standing on the balls of my feet which were spaced widely. I held my racket between my hands in front of my chest. I was nervous. His service was getting better and better and faster than before. I gave Elijah a subtle nod.

He served.

The ball flew towards me, this time with a spin. It was fast, on the line at the T-point where the service line and the center service line met. I flung myself to my right, trying to catch the ball but failed.

"Ace," Benjamin declared smugly. "Forty all, deuce."

Elijah smiled. I shook my head, begrudgingly tapping my right palm to the face of my racket. He nodded in acknowledgment.

So far he had aced me 3 times and I had aced him 4 times.

Undeniably, both our services were great. I'd won each of my service games, and he'd won each of his.

"What time is it?" I questioned Benjamin as I walked towards the right side of the court.

"7:27," he replied nonchalantly. My eyes popped out of my head.

"What?" I screeched.

"Are you deaf?" He grumbled, but repeated it nonetheless, "7:27."

"Shit, I was supposed to be home by seven-thirty!" I panicked. I glanced at Elijah.

"Can we take a head point instead of doing deuce?" I asked, a little hurriedly. I was anxious I'd be late. I didn't have a curfew till 9 in official terms, but I'd sort of implied I'd be home for dinner when I was leaving. Knowing Jacob, he wouldn't eat till I got home. Always the perfect big brother.

Benjamin scoffed. I ignored him. Elijah shrugged nonchalantly.

We got in position. He served a fastball just inside the singles sideline. I lunged, throwing my racket out, somehow managing to return it. I didn't wait for it to reach him and quickly got back to the center. He hit to my left and I slammed my racket into it, taking a full backhand wing cross-court. 

His response was a sharp down-the-line ball that took some effort to return, skidding on the court but I did, and I made it an extreme cross-court. I rested the head of my racket on the ground to regain my toppled balance as I watched hopefully, almost frozen as he chased after it . . . but missed.

I whooped, cheering. He grunted but smiled with a sportsman's spirit. Benjamin sulked but we paid him no heed.

We met at the net and shook hands.

"Great game, Elijah," I smiled at him.

"You too, Isabelle."

We parted ways and I made a quick job of cooling down to avoid cramps tomorrow. I felt exhausted. I pulled on my Nike cover-up jacket and slung my kit over my shoulders. I checked my phone while punching out of the club and winced.

Notifications
3 Missed Calls from Jake

Messages
Jake
hey what do you want for dinner? 6:37 pm
izzy? cmon reply to me. 7:01 pm
isabelle dont tell me that uve put ur phone on silent again 7:12 pm
iz you were supposed to be home by now! 7:31 pm
izzy at least let me know that ure alive 7:36 pm
isabelle! Just now

I hastily dialed his number. He picked up on the first ring.

"Hey," I said sheepishly. I nodded in the direction of some random employee smiling at me and averted my gaze.

"Isabelle," he breathed. He sounded relieved. I bit my lip guiltily as I exited the building and made my way to the parking lot. There was silence.

I unlocked my car, carefully depositing my kit in the backseat while balancing my phone between my ear and shoulder.

"Where are you?" He questioned. I closed my eyes as I heard the undertones of anger and disappointment in his voice.

"Parking lot of the club," I replied, opening my door and sliding in.

"Say something," I half-begged against the steering wheel. The silence was cruel. I'd rather he shouted at me. But the silent treatment? Why was he acting so weird?

"We'll talk when you get home," he sighed. "Drive safe."

A flat note sounded as the call disconnected. I heaved in a deep breath. The thrill of my victory was significantly drowned by this conversation with Jake. And the worst thing is that I couldn't even blame it on anyone. That carelessness was all on me. But that didn't change the fact that it was a very unexpected reaction to the situation. Normally, Jacob would shout at me like the protective big brother he was and then calm down eventually. But radio silence? That was so unlike him.

I drove with my mind full of thoughts. I didn't even bother with the music I was so mentally exhausted.

I pulled in our garage and quickly gathered my stuff, nibbling on a banana. I absent-mindedly pressed a button on the remote and the garage doors slid shut. I pushed the door to the ground floor quarters and froze.

Voices.

Did Jacob have friends over? I frowned. What friends? We shifted not four days ago, for crying out loud! And I didn't remember him mentioning anyone . . . . .

I closed the garage door behind me with a soft click and walked silently towards the living room and kitchen area. A floorboard beneath me creaked. I cussed under my breath and the sounds drifting from the living room ceased.

How fucking cliché.

"It's her, right?" I heard a familiar masculine voice ask.

"Yeah," Jake replied curtly.

Silence. I stayed frozen, the gears in my brain whizzing.

"You can come out now, Belle," another voice called softly.

What the fuck. Why did they sound so familiar??

But Jacob was there so nothing's wrong, right?

But why was I fucking frozen, then?!

"Isabelle," the tired voice called again. My eyes widened and my legs worked on their own accord as I frantically made my way to the living room.

Tears pricked my eyes as I saw them . . . . . And a bunch of suitcases near the door.

I gulped.

It had been over a month.

"Hey Mom, Dad." I breathed.

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{4th April 2021}
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Here's the promised picture. I really hope it helped.

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