Page 73 of A Summer of Stars

“Love–fifteen,” the announcer stated.

Wren was given a new ball, and she proceeded to serve again, launching it across the court. Aldridge ran forward and sent it back. It jostled back and forth over the net a few times before she jumped and swung the racket underneath her legs, sending the ball flying past Wren. Another round of applause congratulated her. I searched for a reaction under her visor as she returned to the first line of the court. A small smile was hidden under the shadow of her hat.

“Love–thirty,” the announcer confirmed.

I wiped my hand across my forehead, swiping away sweat as Wren served.

Aldridge didn’t let the heavy heat affect her speed. She lunged, dove, stretched, jumped, and slid to reach the ball. Before I realized it, she had won the first set of three.

Everyone in the audience rose and applauded as she won her sixth game. She jogged to her bench, sweat glistening on her legs and shoulders as she drank water and wiped her forehead with a towel before the next set. It couldn’t have been enough time to regain any energy but both players were already walking back to the court, switching sides now, ready to play again.

Aldridge accepted the ball to serve. I watched closely as she planted her feet in the grass and bounced the ball off the court once, twice. Then, she tossed the ball above her. The momentum of her weight was thrown into the ball and it flew. The sound of the hit exploded.

The two players traded the ball. Theswishof the racket andthwackof the ball mimicked a metronome’s steady ticking. It wasn’t long until Aldridge cut the steady tempo and tripped Wren up, sending the ball out of her reach. Everyone applauded with surprise.

“Fifteen–love.”

“I think I’m sweating as much as they are,” Franny commented, airing out his shirt. I did the same. I wasn’t sure if it was the sun or the stress.

The first two games went to Aldridge, and the next two to Wren. Aldridge just needed four more games. Just four more and she’d win this whole tournament in straight sets. The entire crowd leaned forward, thinking the same thing.

Wren’s head was tilted down as she returned to her starting line to serve. Aldridge should have appeared exhausted, especially in this heat, but she was still bouncing between each foot with the same energy she started the first set with.

“That’s so rude,” Nari commented.

“Hm?” I hummed, still focused on Aldridge.

“The guy over there—you’re not supposed to get up during the match.”

“He wouldn’t be allowed to get up, so he’s probably only taking his seat just now,” Franny commented, squinting.

I focused on Luna. Something was off. She stopped shifting between her feet. Suddenly, she was scratching her hip, and her gaze was flittering. It wasn’t obvious. But I’d been around her long enough to notice.

My stare darted to the man in the stands. A man who looked awfully—“It’s him,” I said as I realized.

She squinted. “Who?”

“Her ex-husband.”

“Oh, shit,” they both said.

The more I watched her, the more distracted she was. The ball flew to the right corner of her side. Her shoulders slumped.

“Fifteen all,” the announcer read.

She served, and Wren lunged with a new burst of confidence. Luna sent the ball back, and let her eyes dart to that spot in the crowd again. Her chest was pumping air in and out. She was running her arm across her forehead to catch sweat in between each hit.

I glanced back at him—Jeremiah. He wasn’t even focusing on the match. His head was turned to a woman sitting beside him, running his mouth.

“Maybe she’s just tired?” Nari guessed. Franny looked over.

“I don’t know… Look at how much she’s fidgeting.”

“Fifteen–thirty.”Shit.

“It’s a million degrees out, of course she’s fidgeting. Franny’s entire shirt is soaked and he’s not even doing anything,” she responded, pinching his sleeve.

“She lookspanicked, though,” I explained.