Page 71 of Set to Love

One shot pushes her back. The next drags her forward. Suddenly, she’s the one doing all the running. I’m in the driver’s seat.

I exhale, wiping sweat from my eyes. That’s when I notice Andrew standing a few feet outside the court, a clipboard tucked beneath one arm. He’s tall, with tanned skin, curly brown hair, and mirrored sunglasses. I have no idea how long he’s been watching us.

My pulse takes off as if it’s running a hundred-yard dash. Did he see the balls I sent over the fence, or did he only see the last few points where I finally found my feet?

Victoria straightens immediately. Apparently, I’m not the only one hoping to impress him.

“You’ve got a good brain, Katie,” Andrew says in a deep voice with an Italian accent that reminds me of Lina. “You made some smart adjustments.”

He looks at Victoria. “I hope you took a few notes. This is what I mentioned to you yesterday. About mixing things up.”

“I did,” she says, her head bobbing like a doll. The teenager who was previously glued to her phone has been replaced by a student desperate for approval.

Andrew turns back to me, unhooking his sunglasses to reveal a pair of startling blue eyes. “I’m Drew.” He offers his hand to me. “Drew Russo. Theo didn’t tell me you were playing on one and a half legs today.”

The name hits me with the force of a flat serve to the chest. Drew Russo. Not Andrew. I mean, yes, technically he’s Andrew, but nobody calls him that. Theo, this is all your fault.

It takes everything in me not to completely fangirl. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize him. Then again, I never expected a former Grand Slam champion to be standing on court four. This is a man who was once ranked in the top ten, whose backhand I used to study on SearchTube.

I try to focus on our conversation. I’m not surprised Theo didn’t mention my injury. “He may have forgotten a few details.”

Drew’s smile vanishes, replaced by his professional coaching mask. “You didn’t play your best today.”

My cheeks burn. He definitely saw the balls I sent onto the other courts.

“No,” I admit, my voice small. “I didn’t.”

“But I also watched what happened after that,” he says. “Most players would spend the rest of the session stuck inside their head. Not you. You stopped trying to force things. You figured out what was working and started constructing points. That’s what interested me.”

Hope flares inside of me. I stand a little taller.

“You’ve got good instincts. But your movement, your shot selection under pressure, your transition game, we’d be rebuilding all of it. More than most coaches would want to take on.”

And I’m back to where I started. My shoulders drop back a half-inch. I knew I wasn’t good enough. I shouldn’t have even bothered showing up and embarrassing myself in front of all the top juniors and their coaches here today.

“I understand,” I say, wondering how long it’ll take me to run out the front and have Zoe come pick me up.

Drew nods, watching me for a long beat before he speaks again. “With that being said, let’s see how the rest of the afternoon goes. If we’re a good match, we’ll discuss a trial period.” He slides his sunglasses back into place, his expression becoming unreadable.

“Yes, sir,” I sputter.

“It’s Drew. Not sir.” He chuckles. “Go on and take a five-minute break. Then join Victoria and I back here.”

I nod again. Okay. I haven’t been rejected, but I haven’t been accepted either. Right now, that’s enough motivation to keep me going.

My phone buzzes as I’m waiting out in front of the club for Zoe.

Max

I hope you still have good news to share with me.

Katie

Max! You’re up late.

I shake my head. It’s nearly two in London.

Max