A/N: Happy New Year! Thought I would start the new year off with a new story. I'm a big tennis fan and that was what inspired me to write this story. Let me know what you think.
Chapter 1
"40-15," the umpire calls.
The ball girl scuttles after the tennis ball that has just been called out and I give a little fist pump as I turn to whip up the home crowd. Many of them get to their feet and whoop their encouragement. My opponent, the German and world number one player, Cato Mueller, shakes his head in frustration as I get two match points. I turn back with a huge smile as I ask the ball girl for another ball. The crowd continue to cheer as the ball girl bounces the ball to me and I take a deep breath as I catch the ball with my racket. The whole crowd then goes deadly silent as I get ready to serve.
Just one more point. One more point is all I need to win this match and beat Cato for the first time in eight months. One more point and I'll be champion of The Fever Tree Queens Tennis Tournament for the very first time. One more point and I'll be the form player leading into the Wimbledon tennis tournament that starts in just over a week's time. I like the sound of that.
I push every other thought out my head as I bounce the ball and look up at Cato on the other side of the net. He crouches, ready to receive the ball and there is only one serve I'm going to use match point up. It's worked for me consistently this afternoon. With another deep breath I throw the ball high in the air and jump to hit it at the optimum point. As soon as my racket meets the ball I know it's a good serve. I slice the ball out wide and it lands perfectly in the corner of the service box. Cato lurches to return it and manages to get the ball back in play. But I've already stretched him and I hit the ball back to the opposite side of the court. He rushes to retrieve it and he even gets his racket on the ball but he can't generate enough power and the ball crashes into the net.
The crowd react before I do and jump to their feet as they begin cheering. The umpire calls game, set and match and I jump as I punch my fist in the air.
Relief is the first thing I feel. I've finally managed to beat my biggest rival a week before Wimbledon. The British press have followed my every move this week and debated if I have the mental strength to conquer the world number one player. I've proved those doubters wrong today.
The pure joy follows soon after and I can't stop smiling as they crowd continue their long applause. I turn around to them, ripping off my sweatbands and throwing them into the crowd. There are further whoops of excitement as people scrabble to catch my sweaty cast offs but I keep smiling as I clap and thank the crowd.
Cato has come to the net and waits for me patiently there. He hangs his head dejectedly and looks a lot more tired than I do but he still says congratulations when I jog my way over to him. He offers me his hand and we share a brief hug as Cato pats me on the back.
"Congratulations. I couldn't believe some of the balls you got back today. You out played me," he says.
I smile as we pull back.
"Thanks. It was one of those good days but you put up a fight," I reply.
Cato smiles as he shakes his head.
"You're being kind. We both know I wasn't in the match today," he says.
I laugh as we turn to walk back to our seats. Cato turns to me with a grin.
"See you in Wimbledon final in three weeks," he says.
I laugh again and slap him on the shoulder before turning and seeing the most important people in my life. My whole family are here to watch me to today and stand clapping louder than anyone. I bound over to them and Mum reaches out eagerly for me. She pulls me in close and holds me tight.
"I don't think there is a prouder mum in the country right now," she says.
I smile as I squeeze her back.
"You have one very happy and relieved son right now," I reply. "Sorry I'm getting my sweat all over your dress."
Mum laughs as we pull apart and then strokes a sweaty curl back fondly.
"The sweat is worth it to share this moment with you," she says.
I give her another smile before swooping down to place a kiss on her cheek and then Dad pats me on the back.
"What a match, son. I keep telling everyone that you get your tennis genes form me," he says with a massive grin.
"Obviously. I don't think I'll ever achieve as big as your win at Waverly Tennis club under 12s competition though," I reply.
Dad chuckles but my two big brothers, Bran and Rye are pulling me into them.
"Fuck yes, Baby Bro! That was awesome! I'm going to be using your win to get myself fucking laid for the next couple of months," Rye exclaims.
"Careful, Rye. We don't want the BBC to apologise for your bad language again," I say raising an eyebrow.
My brother gets excited easily and often utters profanities when this happens. Unfortunately the BBC have caught this on camera a few times while he has been supporting me and the commentators have had to quickly offer their apologies for any bad language that has been heard before the watershed.
My more sensible brother, Bran, shakes his head.
"You still owe me a drink. I said that Peeta would win in two sets today. You thought Cato would take him to three," Bran says.
Rye shakes his head.
"Peeta's buying all the drinks tonight. He's just won £700, 000!" he says.
I roll my eyes and pat them both on the back.
"No alcohol for me tonight. My body is a temple until Wimbledon is over," I say.
Rye gives me a grin.
"And that's why I never achieved my tennis destiny like you. I love a party too much," he says. He then slaps me on the shoulder. "Though no matter what I say. I'm proud of you."
That's about as sentimental as Rye gets so I thank him and turn to Bran.
"Seriously, Peeta. Congratulations. But I think there is someone beside us who wants to talk to you," Bran says.
I give him a massive grin before squeezing his shoulder in thanks. I then turn to my favourite person. My girlfriend, Katniss, stands beaming beside my brothers. She's let her dark hair down today and it flows in soft waves down her back. She has freckles across her nose from having watched me play tennis all week in the sun and Effie even managed to convince her to wear a dress.
I'll know she'll hate me for it but there is only one thing I want to do when she looks this beautiful. I swoop down, gather her head between my hands and kiss her in front of nine thousand people. Katniss gasps a little in surprise but then opens her mouth to kiss me back. The crowd roar louder than they have all afternoon and some people wolf whistle. Katniss only lets me kiss her for about five seconds before she gently pushes on my chest and then buries her head in my shoulder.
"You promised you wouldn't," she mumbles.
I grin broadly and use my finger to tip her chin up.
"Then you shouldn't have looked so beautiful," I reply.
Katniss blushes and wraps her arms around my middle. I place a kiss on top of her head as I give her squeeze.
"I love you," I say.
Katniss tips her head back up to look at me.
"I love you too. You deserve this today," she says.
I smile back at her and every nerve in my body urges me to bend down to kiss her again. But Katniss can be feisty when she wants to be and I wouldn't put it past her to cause me bodily harm if I engaged in more PDA. And a week out from Wimbledon I want my body in top condition.
The tournament referee is tapping on my shoulder anyway, encouraging me to get into place for the trophy presentation. Katniss lets go of me and tips her head towards the trophy.
"You better go. Though it's a pretty big trophy. You better not drop it and embarrass yourself on national TV," she teases.
I laugh as I take a step back.
"If I can carry you after you've had six tequilas, I think I can handle it," I reply with a grin.
Katniss scowls at me and I give her another smile before dashing off to get the trophy. She's not joking about the size of it. I think it's the biggest one on tour being both tall and wide. I can't take my eyes off it as they go through all the other presentations before they get to me.
Cato finally steps forward to receive his runners up plate and my eyes dart over to look at my family and Katniss. My eyes lock onto Katniss' again and she mouths that she's proud of me. I mouth that I love her back.
The polite applause ends for Cato and then they are announcing my name.
"And now the winner of the Fever Tree Championships, Britain's very own Peeta Mellark!" a man calls.
The crowd gets loud again as I step forward and wave at them before smiling at the co-founder of Fever Tree tonic. I shake his hand and he tells me congratulations before passing the massive trophy to me. I grin broadly as I grip tightly onto its two handles and then turn to lift it up for the crowd.
I can hear my brothers jumping up and down and going crazy behind me and when I turn around Katniss is looking at me with so much pride and joy that it makes my heart melt.
The cheering eventually subsides and Cato steps up to be interviewed by Caesar Flickerman, a former British tennis player that now leads the BBC's tennis team.
"Cato, commiserations. You came in here as defending champion but it just wasn't your day today," he says.
"No. Peeta played great today. We've played many great matches over the last couple of years but I just couldn't disrupt his rhythm today. He deserved to win," he replies.
The crowd roar their approval at that and I hug the massive trophy close to my chest. I can't shake the smile that's on my face.
"I know you two are good friends off the court. Does that make it harder or easier to play each other?" Caesar asks.
"You never like to beat your friends but I think we both enjoy the rivalry. The two of us are always competing in the locker room as well. Peeta may have won today but I beat him in ping pong on Thursday," Cato says with a grin.
A ripple of laughter goes through the crowd and Cato turns to catch my eye. We share a grin as we remember the epic ping pong tussle we had earlier in the week before he turns back to Caesar.
"Peeta is honestly one of the nicest guys on the tour. He's kind and considerate to everyone, even when they have just beat him and he's made so many great improvements to his game in the last year. I hope to play against him in the Wimbledon final in three weeks' time," he finishes.
The crowd cheer again and Cato steps back to give them a wave. He nods his head at me as we trade places and I thank him for his kind words.
I still hold the trophy close to my chest and Caesar comments on this when I get to him.
"Congratulations, Peeta. You don't look like you're going to let go of that trophy any time soon," he says.
"You'll have to pry it off me. Though I'm not sure it's going to fit in the boot of my car," I joke.
The crowd laugh as I grin broadly. Caesar waits for it to die down before speaking again.
"You played exceptionally well today. We all know that you haven't beaten Cato in eight months. What was the difference today?" he asks.
"Eight months, thirteen days and twenty hours, but who's counting? Maybe Cato had a stomach bug today," I reply.
More laughter from the crowd. I joke about it but it has caused me a lot of headaches these last eight months. Cato has beaten me in nearly every major match that I have lost including both the final of the Australian Open and semi-finals at the French Open this year. It was only my coach and family that stopped me from doubting my game.
"No, in all honesty I've been working really hard on my game, particularly my second serve. I served really well in this match and didn't give him many opportunities on my second serve so I think that's what made the difference today," I say.
Caesar nods his head.
"We all watched you run over to your family after you won. How much does their support mean to you?" he asks.
"It's everything. I wouldn't be here without them. They all sacrificed so much for me to get to this point. My brothers had to give up football training because it clashed with my tennis lessons and mum couldn't drive us to two different places at once. My parents re-mortgaged their house so I could train in Spain when I was fourteen. I feel like being Lindsey Lohan in Means Girls and snapping this trophy so I can share it with them," I say.
I turn to my family and mum places her hand over her chest, looking genuinely touched by what I have just said. I smile back at them but then my eyes slide along to Katniss. My grin gets wider as I turn back to Caesar.
"Though I think my girlfriend may force me to sleep on the sofa tonight. I think I embarrassed her by kissing her in public. But I'm not going to waste a chance to kiss the girl I love," I add.
A large portion of the crowd awe and Katniss blushes again as she flits her eyes away embarrassed.
"So I assume there will be big celebrations in the Mellark camp tonight then?" Caesar asks.
I smile and shake my head.
"It's only a week to Wimbledon, Caesar. I want to be in the best possible shape for it. Today is just the start. I fully expect to be holding a smaller gold trophy in three weeks' time," I reply.
The crowd roar in agreement.
"And besides, Love Island in on tonight and I need to find out if Wes and Laura have broken up yet," I add with a smile.
The crowd laugh as I mention the trashy reality TV show. Caesar chuckles too.
"Then I won't keep you much longer. We all want to see you in that Wimbledon final too! Congratulations and we'll see you at Wimbledon!" he announces.
I thank him before turning back to crowd and waving again. There is one last big cheer before I'm dragged away for other press commitments.
I do a few more on court interviews and make sure I thank the umpire and tournament referee before I head into the locker room. My family, along with all my couching team, are waiting for me and my brothers spray bottles of champagne over my head. I laugh as I shake the bubbly liquid out my hair.
"I still have the press conference to do after this," I say.
Rye grins at me.
"And I hope you'd shower before it you dirty bastard," he replies.
"Language, Rye. I'm really starting to worry the public think I have brought my son up wrong," Mum says.
Bran wraps his arm around Mum's shoulder to give her a reassuring squeeze.
"Don't worry. Two of your sons turned out well. That's a 66.6% success rate," he says.
Mum chuckles and then gives him a kiss on the cheek. My coach, Haymitch steps forward sipping a bottle of beer.
"It all seems like a waste of perfectly good alcohol to me," he says. "And well done, kid. That may be the best you've played yet."
"But I'm only going to get better," I reply.
Haymitch nods his head, impressed by my response and tips his beer towards me. My game wasn't perfect today. I still lost too many points when I came to the net and let Cato hit behind me a few too many times. I'll be back on the courts tomorrow with Haymitch coaching me to tighten up the loose ends of my game.
He's been my coach for the last three years and my ranking has risen from number seventy-sixth in the world to number three. He played a bit of professional tennis in the past but he had none of the big weapons to hurt opponents. His tennis brain though is second to none and the tactics he's helped me come up with have been a big reason for my improved form.
"That's what I like to hear. Winning Queens is no guarantee that you'll do well at Wimbledon. We've got a lot of work to do this week," he says.
"Oh for goodness shake, Haymitch, let the boy have some time to enjoy this. We all know that you'll be celebrating with a bottle of whiskey," my publicist, Effie says.
Haymitch grunts at her.
"Don't get your wig in a twist. I'm making sure he wins Wimbledon, not just organising his next OK magazine deal," he replies.
"Publicity is key with sportsmen. It's how he gets sponsors and can afford to pay you. I'm making sure that everyone knows how great he is. Not just on the tennis court but off it. He's going to need the whole country behind him if he has a chance of beating Cato at Wimbledon," Effie retorts.
As Effie talks, Haymitch tilts his head to the side and mimics her. Effie huffs when she sees this.
"You honestly act like a child sometimes, Haymitch!" she exclaims.
I step between them to defuse the situation. I brought them both onto my team at around the same time and they have a very love/hate relationship. They both know how to wind each other up but that doesn't stop them flirting over a few drinks at the end of a long night.
I put an arm round each of them and smile.
"I want to thank you both for all the work you do with me. Effie, I'm going to give you that Fever Tree hamper the sponsors gave me as I know you love a gin and tonic. And Haymitch, I owe you a steak this week," I say.
Effie reaches up to touch my cheek.
"You're such a gentleman, Peeta Mellark. I like to think of you as a friend and not just a client," she says.
I give her a little squeeze.
"Of course we're friends, Effie," I reply.
Haymitch rolls his eyes and ducks out from under my arm.
"Things are getting too sentimental. We need to get you prepped for the press conference," he says.
Effie nods her head and then claps her hands as she steps away.
"Oh but we need a locker room shot before we go. Your Instagram is waiting to be updated," she says.
"Yeah. I want to capture this moment. Haymitch, you grumpy moron, you're getting in this one too," I say.
Haymitch groans but doesn't put up too much of a fuss as Effie ushers him and the rest of my team into position. I'm kept in the middle holding the huge trophy and told to keep smiling. She snaps a few pictures of me with the team, family and then with just Katniss.
"Katniss try one looking lovingly up at Peeta. And why don't you put both arms around his middle," Effie says.
"The trophy kind of gets in the way of doing that," Katniss replies.
"Oh, I suppose. How about you each hold a handle of the trophy," Effie suggests. "That's it. Perfect!"
My cheeks are starting to hurt from smiling too much and Katniss gives me a reassuring squeeze.
"She must be almost done now," Katniss says.
I smile and nod my head before squeezing Katniss back and then Effie turns back to speak to us.
"I just need one with Peeta now. And you should take your top off. Your number of likes always go up with topless shots," she says.
Katniss rolls her eyes.
"I hate how we've become judged on how may likes we get on Instagram," she says.
I shrug my shoulder.
"It's just a bit of fun. And you know how competitive I get," I say with a grin.
Katniss rolls her eyes again but Effie is already ushering her out the way. I whip off my sweaty t-shirt and pose with the trophy for the last of Effie's photos. I know she will spend the next couple of hours scrolling through the photos she took of me to find the best ones for Instagram. I just want to share the moment with my fans.
Effie finally finishes and puts the camera away. She then looks up at everyone.
"I'll forward some photos to everyone with social media. Remember to show me anything before you post. It's important that you all show how proud you are of Peeta but I don't want anything lewd," she looks at Rye as she says this. "or anything that is too similar. This is a big moment and we have to share it in the right way!"
There are nods of heads but Katniss just sighs from beside me. I put my arm around her waist and place a kiss on her temple.
"You don't have to post anything if you don't want to. I know how proud you are of me. I don't need an Instagram post to tell me," I say.
Katniss sighs again as she snuggles closer to me.
"It's just that I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't. I post something about you and there are lots of nice comments but there is always at least one idiot saying that I'm not pretty enough for you or using you to get famous. And if I don't post I get a load of angry messages asking why I'm not showing you support or the press start speculating we broke up. I hate it," she says.
I turn her around so that I can see her fully.
"It sucks. I know. What can I do to make it better?" I ask.
Katniss smiles fondly up at me as she reaches up to stroke my hair back.
"It's not your fault. Maybe I just need to grow a thicker skin. But before I post to the world, I want you to know I'm so happy for what you achieved today. Great things are coming your way and I can't wait to be by your side while you achieve them," she says.
I rest my forehead against hers and use my thumb to sweep across her cheek.
"You're amazing, Katniss Everdeen. I'm lucky to have you," I say.
She smiles back at me and I bend down to give her a lingering kiss. She squeezes me tighter as I open my mouth to deepen it and for once I don't hear the cat calls from my brothers.
I'm exhausted once all my media commitments are done but my parents insist on taking everyone out for a celebratory meal. I manage to perk up a little after some food but my mind is already thinking about the things I want to focus on in training tomorrow. My body doesn't feel too sore and I'm eager to keep improving.
Mum scolds Haymitch and I for looking at a couple of videos of the game today on his phone but I don't really have time to celebrate. Wimbledon starts in less than a week and I want as few distractions as possible.
Effie uploads the photos onto Instagram and it makes me smile when I see all the messages of support come through. Some of the other players on tour have offered me congratulations, including Cato. I'm sure he's already working on his game for Wimbledon and I need to do the same thing too.
The best thing about competing in Queens and Wimbledon is that I get to stay in my own house while I compete and not in a random hotel. It's such a relief to be able to come back to my own bed with Katniss in the house we share in Kensington.
I grab her wrist and pull her back to me as she tries to walk off into our kitchen after we have entered. She bumps into my chest and I slide my hands up to hold her head tenderly in my hands.
"This is my favourite thing about winning. Celebrating with you," I say.
Katniss smiles as she steps on her toes and brushes her nose against mine.
"Have you stopped thinking about the match yet? Because I've got other plans for you tonight," she replies.
"I promise not to think about tennis and tactics for the next hour," I say.
Katniss quirks an eyebrow at me.
"Only an hour?" she says.
I smile as I bring my head closer to hers.
"I'll be blaming you then if I'm too tired to practise tomorrow," I reply.
"Haymitch hates me anyway. I might as well piss him off some more," Katniss says.
She then leans into kiss me with her hands already make their way underneath the waistband of my trousers.
Katniss wakes before me the next day. She works as a researcher for a London radio station and has to be at work for when the morning breakfast show starts. Working in radio is certainly not her dream job. She has aspirations to become a song writer but it takes years for someone to build a reputation as a good song writer. I may think her songs are awesome but until she has the right connections I'm going to be the only one hearing them. Working at the radio station helps her network with people in the music industry and it was only last month that the music producer, Plutarch Heavensbee, asked Katniss to send him some of the stuff she has written.
When I do finally get out of bed I find a plate of fruit left for me from Katniss. I smile when I see that she has arranged the fruit into the shape of the Wimbledon trophy with a message underneath that reads:
1 week to go!
I get out my phone, snapping a quick picture of it and uploading it to my Instagram.
Excited for next week to start! #wimbledon#breakfastofchampions
The likes and comments start coming in immediately and I smile when I see the messages of support
ellie_hemmingway245: That looks delicious! Good luck!
bobbylovestennis: Let's hoping you are holding the real thing in 3 weeks!
black+gold56: I'm rooting for you! We need a British winner!
The messages keep coming and I then send a quick thank you to Katniss. Effie then messages me to tell me her delight over my recent post. It's a good start to the day
I pluck a strawberry off the plate and chew it while I turn on the TV. BBC breakfast flashes on screen and I chuckle when I see they are talking about me.
"Are we allowed to get excited about Peeta Mellark yet? The bookies made him favourite for Wimbledon today," the female presenter says.
"I believe in him. I don't normally follow tennis but he was phenomenal in that match yesterday," the male presenter replies.
"It's been over eighty years since we've had a British male winner at Wimbledon and I really think this could be the year. He's twenty-three now. It's his fifth Wimbledon so he understands the pressures that comes with being a British player here and he just beat Cato Mueller. That will have been a huge psychological boost for him," the sports expert adds.
They carry on talking about me but I decide it's best not to listen for too long. There is a lot of expectation with the British Press and I've learned the hard way to block most of it out.
I finish the breakfast my nutritionist left me and then head out to meet my physio for some more post match recovery stuff. I may have won Queens yesterday but it's going to be harder to win Wimbledon. I've got a pretty good rhythm at the moment and don't want to disrupt it. I'm not going to change my schedule because I won a match yesterday. My victory yesterday will seem like a distant memory by the end of the day.
There is a paparazzi standing outside my house when I hop in my car and he clicks away rapidly as I drive off. It's like this every year at the end of June and beginning of July. For two or three weeks of the year the British public become obsessed with tennis. Everyone suddenly has an opinion on who will win and the top British player is put under intense scrutiny. As I drive to the physio, I pass massive billboards with my face on it advertising the tournament. I'm on the front and back page of every newspaper and tourist shops sell masks of my face. It can be a little disconcerting and many great British players have never been able to handle the pressure.
Everyone is pretty happy with me as I go to meet the physio. Apart from the usual aches and pains my body is in good condition. Haymitch has reviewed my match from yesterday and praises the tactics I used and Effie is delighted by the number of people phoning about sponsorship or interviews. I don't think the vibe in my camp has ever been higher.
I spend a couple hours reviewing my match with Cato and do some light hitting in the afternoon but I manage to get home before Katniss gets back and sit going over some of the notes I made with Haymitch today. Everything went my way yesterday but my backhand in particular will need to be more accurate on the days things are not going so well.
As soon as Katniss enters I know she had a bad day. The door slams shuts loudly and she storms through to the kitchen. I instantly jump up and follow her through where she has slumped down at the breakfast bar. I frown in concern and place my hand on her back as I comfort her.
"Hey. What happened?" I ask.
Katniss scowls as she shakes her head.
"I got chased home by paparazzi today. There was a whole crowd of them waiting outside the radio station. I couldn't even go out to get a coffee," she replies.
I sigh as I rub circles on her back.
"I'm sorry. They didn't hurt you, did they?" I ask.
Katniss shakes her head.
"No. But one tried to grab my arse to get a reaction out of me. It took all my will power to not thump him," she says.
I tense when I hear her say this. It's been the same ever since Katniss and I started dating four and a half years ago. The British press hound her every time Wimbledon comes around and some will go to great lengths to try and get a better picture or story. Some shout abuse, others try to feel her up. It's definitely the worst part of playing tennis.
I turn the bar stool around so that Katniss faces me. I take her head in my hands and sweep a thumb across her cheek.
"That's not okay he did that to you. Did you recognise him? I can get Effie to go after him," I say.
"It was the one with curly hair and horn-rimmed glasses. He's shouted abuse at me before," she replies.
I nod my head.
"I'll get Effie on the case. You don't deserve to be treated like that," I say.
Katniss smiles gratefully at me and places a kiss on my wrist.
"Thank you," she replies. "It's the price I have to pay for being with you."
I shake my head fiercely and bring my head closer to her.
"You shouldn't have to pay any price. I'm going to make sure you're treated right," I say.
Katniss smiles and leans up closer to me.
"You're a good man, Peeta Mellark. I love you," she says.
I smile back as I lean down for a kiss. I wish she didn't have to go through this.
I contact Effie about the photographer and she quickly identifies him. She then encourages me to post something on Instagram outing all the people that harass my girlfriend to get a good photo. Most of the comments are supportive and condemn the paparazzi's actions but there are still some people that think Katniss is asking for it and I don't know if I have made it any better.
I rack my brains to try and think of a way to make it up to Katniss. I've been training so much this week and had a lot of press commitments so I have barely seen her. Things are only going to get crazier once Wimbledon starts and this might be the last chance we have to do something together.
The perfect solution finally comes to me on Friday after practise and I get Effie to help me set up the plan. When I get back from training I greet Katniss with a big smile.
"Get changed. We're going out tonight," I say.
Katniss looks up from her song book and raises her eyebrow.
"We're going out three days before Wimbledon starts?" she asks.
I lower my face closer to hers.
"Yes, we're going out. And it's a surprise," I reply.
Katniss rolls her eyes but does move to get up.
"It has been two months since your last surprise, I suppose. I guess I'm due one," she says.
I grin and place a quick kiss on her lips before we both turn to go upstairs. I wouldn't normally go out so close to a big tournament and I'm not sure I'll be able to fully enjoy it but this is about Katniss. She deserves something good too.
We get a taxi to the venue and the driver spends the whole journey asking me about Wimbledon and detailing what he thinks Cato's weaknesses are. He completely ignores Katniss and I wish I'd called for my driver instead. Katniss is a little fed up when he finally drops us off but her eyes widen in surprise when we step outside. She then turns to me with a look of awe.
"Isn't this where The Mockingjays are playing tonight?" she asks.
I nod my head with a grin. The first thing Katniss and I bonded over was our love of music and The Mockingjays are Katniss' favourite band. They announced this gig at the small music venue months ago but we were both in Australia for the Australian Open and didn't get any tickets.
"I got Effie to phone their agent and managed to get us VIP access. I didn't want you to miss out," I reply.
Katniss smiles broadly up at me and after a quick check that there are no paparazzi, steps on her toes and kisses me.
"I can't believe you did this. You've thought about nothing other than tennis all week," she says.
I wrap my arms around her middle and tip my head towards the entrance.
"Don't doubt that I don't think about you too," I say. "Come one. Let's get inside before anyone sees us."
Katniss smiles as she nods her head in agreement and we walk hand in hand into the venue.
The band greet us with big smiles when we enter and the bassist offers us a beer. I shake my head to decline but Katniss accepts.
"Thank you so much for getting us tickets," Katniss says. "I honestly listen to your last album all the time. I love the soulful tone of The Hanging Tree."
"I'm glad you like it. I often feel that The Hanging Tree is our most under rated song," the lead singer replies.
Katniss nods her head and I can't help but smile as she goes into deep conversation with a couple of the band members. This is when she is in her element and her eyes sparkle more than they have all week.
The drummer sidles up to me and gives me a smile.
"All set for Wimbledon?" he asks.
"I'm feeling confident about it," I reply. "I'm just glad I get one last night to relax before it all starts."
The drummer nods his head and my eyes find Katniss again. She's laughing at something the bassist said and I'm just glad she is having a good time.
The band eventually have to get ready to go onto stage and Katniss comes over to me with a big grin. She reaches up to kiss me before linking her arm through mine.
"Thank you so much for this. This is when you being famous pays off," she says.
"There had to be some perks," I reply.
Katniss laughs lightly and then leads me to the VIP area by the stage. She presses her back against my chest and I circle my arms around her as the band come out to play. We jump and dance with each passing song and for a couple of hours I don't think about tennis or Wimbledon.
My mind is firmly back in tennis mode though the next morning and I let Katniss sleep as I get up to practise at the Wimbledon courts. I place a kiss on her bare shoulder before I leave and my mind is already playing over the tactics Haymitch and I discussed as soon as we found out who my first round opponent was yesterday. But I'm disturbed from these thoughts by my phone ringing.
I answer it using my hands free set and am pleased to hear my friend, Madge's, voice ring out.
"It's taken you long enough to congratulate me on my Queens win," I tease.
"Haha. I'm sorry. I've been away in Mykonos. I'm sure you've had plenty other people telling you how great you are," she replies.
Madge and I have known each other since we were five and went to the same primary school in Surrey. She's actually the reason I met Katniss. Katniss and Madge were in the same halls at Bristol University and I became captivated by the dark haired girl with beautiful grey eyes that appeared in all of Madge's facebook photos. As soon as I was back in England I rang up Madge and asked her to introduce me to her attractive friend. I still remember hearing Katniss sing as we drunkenly made our way back home from the night club and swear I had never heard a sound like it. I've been a goner ever since.
"I think I may be more popular than the Queen and David Beckham in the UK at the moment," I say.
Madge laughs.
"A certain topless Instagram post this week may have helped with that. Though I have to say I think you have let yourself go. I think Rye may have a better six pack than you right now," she says.
"Please tell me you haven't slept with him again recently?" I say.
My brother and Madge have a very casual on again/off again relationship. They both just seem to use each other for sex when they haven't gotten any in a while and I've never seen the point of it.
"Oh God no! That's old news at the moment. Though I did see him out last night," she replies.
I roll my eyes as I approach a junction. I can already see where this is going.
"If I win Wimbledon, he'll use that as an excuse to sleep with you," I say.
Madge laughs again.
"Well you better not win it then!" she jokes.
I laugh too as I cross the junction but something then suddenly slams into my side causing me to be thrown in the car. I bang my head on the steering wheel as my car screeches off to the side. There's another bang and then the whole world goes black.