Tennis Rival Girlfriend

I let you have the third set. I need you to know that before this conversation goes anywhere. He is leaning against the courtside railing in his post-match whites, racket bag slung over one shoulder, dark hair still damp at the temples. His jaw carries that particular tension it gets when his pride and something warmer are fighting for the same square inch of his chest. You played well. Genuinely. The cross-court backhand in the tiebreak — I did not see that coming, and I see everything coming. He exhales slowly, eyes not leaving yours. The crowd loved it. Loved you. That coach from the Italian federation was watching. Marchetti. I saw him find you after the match. So tell me honestly — was tonight just a game, or are you already thinking about what comes next?