Page 19 of A Summer of Stars

Once I finished my drills, I had to slow my breath to calm my heart rate. Felix wiped sweat from his forehead. “You’re going to tire yourself out before we’ve even begun,” he said, exasperated.

“It’s good practice.” I smiled, pushing excess sweat into my hair.

He shook his head, throwing a look at me that said,You’re going to give me a heart attack. “Is there anything you want to talk about?” he asked skeptically, walking to the other side of the court.

He didn’t have to give me any direction; we ran through the same routine every Monday. I picked up my racket and jogged to the other side. Bouncing from one foot to the next, my heart finally slowed as he served the ball.

He aimed his serves at both my left and right, forcing me to sprint from one side to the next. My sneakers screeched against the asphalt, testing the strength of my ankles.

“You’re ignoring my question!”

“That’s because you’re going to ask about Kieran!”

He grunted.I knew it. We didn’t talk about anything on this court that didn’t take place on one.

He continued serving like a machine, dodging the ones I hit back. “Deidra called me,” he responded.

“And she’s worried?” I assumed, darting forward to volley.

He stepped out of my line of fire quickly before sending another ball over.

“She wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Well, how do you think I look?” I shouted.

“Terribly out of shape.”

I turned my focus to his face, only to find him laughing.

I bounced from one foot to the other during our pause. “Very funny!” I called out before I served, leading us into our next drill.

As I aimed the ball at his chest, he focused on fast-paced strokes. Like two dancers moving in a tango, as one person stepped, the other reacted.

“How do you feel about this week’s match?” he asked. We refused to say “first match” aloud; that was simply too nerve-racking. It was easier to treat it like any other.

“Good,” I responded.

“Good. You’re going to do great. You’re in the best condition of your career. Your footwork is light, your level of endurance is up, your ability to volley has only gotten better,” he replied with confidence, hitting a forehand back, forcing me to dash to the left. “You just need to remain focused.”

“Iamfocused,” I panted. I could feel the pulse of my heartbeat in my forearms. We must be close to the two-hour mark.

“One of your publicists warned me the actor is coming to the match.” The ball went flying by me.

“You’re kidding,” I scoffed. My skin felt itchy thinking of him. The snide comments, the name-calling, the entitlement to tell me what to do and how to act—thetouching. I wanted to rip that hat off his head yesterday and shove it in between his teeth.

“They said if you were surprised, then that meant you didn’t look at the calendar.”

Of course I didn’t look at the calendar. The idea of color-coded appearances and press tours scattered across my practice schedule gave me a headache.

PR responsibilities weren’t part of Felix’s job description, so I understood why he wasn’t giving this conversation much time. Tennis was a sport. A dance between two competitors. It wasn’t supposed to involve celebrity politics. These conversations never bled into our practice, so I moved on.

I walked backward, picking the ball back up to serve. “It’s fine. I’ll be focused. You’ll be the one stuck sitting next to him anyway.” I laughed, realizing. “Wait, this is going to be so great.Youhave to sit next to him!”

“I can still retire early!” he jabbed, striking the ball with a backhand.

“You love a challenge, and you know it.” I pointed my racket at him.

The ball fell short on his end, just crossing the net. Felix dove for it, but he wasn’t quick enough. “Yes!” I shouted like a kid. For a man in his sixties, he still played like a pro.