Slammed, стр. 32
“You looked like you were really enjoying that drink. I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“It’s been a funny sort of day since I saw you.”
“Oh, I bet you’ve had more fun than me. Less crying, for a start.” She brushed a strand of hair from her face before it could snag on the minimal lip gloss she was wearing. I noticed her knuckles were red, a little swollen.
“You okay?” I didn’t remember her catching a stray ball to the hand or landing roughly.
“Oh, just my bad mood,” she said, shaking her head. “You really were gracious as hell, but I made the mistake of watching the match back with Xavi. He kept bitching about all the points I ‘gave away’ and it got heated.”
Right. The coach. And presumably boyfriend. With the arguments that got heated.
“Oh…?”
“Don’t worry, we didn’t turn it into a boxing match. I did land a good one on my locker door, though. Pretty stupid, but I’ve got a week to heal now at least.”
“On court, you don’t seem like the punching type. You’re the coolest person I’ve played.”
“Well, I don’t like the cliché of ‘fiery,’ for a start. And it takes a lot for my temper to tip over, but Xavi has a gift for it. He starts me simmering in the morning and… You know what? I don’t want to talk about him. Do you mind?”
I shrugged. Not talking about men was always my preference.
“You were nice about me to the press,” Toni continued, spotting an open table over in the corner. She took me by the wrist, and we snagged it before anyone else could drift that way. The server met us there, and I ordered a second martini while Toni opted for a Dark ’n’ Stormy.
“I actually have no idea what that is,” I admitted once we were alone. “But it sounds intriguing.”
“Dark rum, ginger ale, and a splash of lime,” Toni explained, looking after the server like he might be coming back already. “I think I earned it, don’t you?”
“You sure did. This isn’t too weird?”
“Why? Because you systematically destroyed me out there?” Toni laughed as she said it, reaching across to pat my hand because I must have looked a little worried. “I should know better by now, don’t worry. You really are a machine on court, you know? And I mean that in the best way.”
“Yeah, a machine. Elin Larsson the robot. I’ve heard that before.” Maybe it wasn’t cool to be pouting when you were the one who’d been victorious, but damn did I hate all those non-human comparisons. I had enough of a hard time convincing myself I was a regular person at the best of times. It tapped straight into the anxieties that kept me awake at night, but that wasn’t Toni’s fault.
“Hey, sorry,” she said, when I didn’t quite snap out of it. I wasn’t sorry when it made her reach for my hand again, this time grabbing and squeezing both of them. Usually tactile people made me panic a little, but I found myself relaxing instead of just getting stiffer. “It really was a compliment.”
“I guess that’s why they call me the Volvo of tennis, huh? Safe, reliable, exactly what you expect…”
“Oh, come on.” Our drinks came, and the server scurried off the moment they touched the table’s surface. Clearly we were giving off some tension. Toni withdrew her hands, so I tucked mine safely back on my lap as we sat opposite each other on the high stools. The view out over Manhattan and its skyscrapers was impressive, familiar, but I couldn’t keep my attention on it.
“What’s really interesting, though,” Toni continued, letting me focus on her again instead of sneaking glances, “is it feels like you don’t even want it anymore, but you can pull it out like you did today and take it anyway. Same at Wimbledon.”
“What…? Who said…? I mean, I don’t…” I was sputtering, completely thrown by how quickly she’d seen through me. “Just because I don’t turn cartwheels every time I win a match doesn’t mean—”
“It’s more than that, isn’t it?” Toni leaned in, knowing what she said would be death for my reputation. “I’m not trying to be an asshole, I swear. I just wondered if everything was okay.”
“Of course I’m okay. There are records to go for, more matches to play. I’m doing the thing I’ve loved since I was tiny. Who wouldn’t be happy?”
Toni slipped off her stool, coming around to stand right next to me. “I thought my career was over, more than once these past two years. I know what it looks like, when things aren’t right.” Her perfume was light and floral, exactly right for her. I wanted to lean in, smell it more clearly against her light-brown skin. “And I’ve watched you for your whole career; we all do. Our coaches and our trainers say ‘see how Elin does it’ so we can learn. This isn’t just you being quiet or humble.”
For a moment I almost cracked and told her. The urge rose up in my chest like a wave cresting over the beach. All those things I could never have mentioned in an interview or to most of my fellow pros. The therapists and the prescriptions, the insomnia and the days when I cried through my workouts until enough endorphins kicked in to get me through. Learning breathing exercises to get me out on court when it felt like the crowd were going to break through the ceiling above me.
“Trust me, the more you get to know me, the more you’ll see I’m just not very emotional about this stuff. It’s nothing to worry about.”
She didn’t look like she wanted to drop it, but she startled me by leaning in for a