A/N: This fic wasn't planned, since I'm currently busy writing HPMCWMB, but well, it just came out, and I really had a blast writing it. I hope you guys will enjoy it too! As always, reviews are much appreciated...
About the inspiration - blame the (obvious, at least for almost everyone...) Paily chemistry, of course, but also my tennis obsession! ;)
This fic is dedicated to siophiefandom, who not only did the betareading, but also some brilliant suggestions to make the story better. Thank you so much! ;)
"You've got to be kidding me!" the auburn girl yelled, throwing her racket out of frustration. "That ball was fucking good, god dammit!"
"Warning for racket and language abuse," the chair umpire announced, her tone firm and clear. "Consider this your last warning, Miss McCullers. Next time, it will be a penalty point."
Paige huffed. "Seriously?"
"I'm very serious," the girl in the umpire chair confirmed in a stern voice, from her perch high above the court. "Watch your behavior, please."
"This isn't freakin' Wimbledon," Paige muttered between her teeth before grabbing her tennis racket and heading back to the baseline. "Chill out; it's just a college match," she mumbled to herself, not willing to risk another rebuke from the chair.
She couldn't help but feeling very frustrated. Her game was definitely off; - especially her serve, which was usually one of her strengths. She glanced at her opponent, who was smirking at her from the other side of the court. This girl, Mona VanSomething, was definitely annoying. And surprisingly strong, given her small frame.
But at that moment, what was unnerving Paige the most was the chair umpire's attitude. The undeniably gorgeous, but also very smug (in Paige's opinion) raven-haired girl seemed to have been focused on Paige's behavior since the match began.
Paige McCullers usually showed a lot of sportsmanship on the court, but on days like these, when she felt off her game and targeted, she could behave like a real brat. But only on the tennis court. Off the court, she was usually the opposite: a sweet, almost shy, and well-mannered nineteen-year-old-girl.
Less than fifteen minutes later, the match was over. Paige's final serve had hit the net cord and fallen back for an inglorious double-fault.
"Game, set and match, Mona Vanderwaal," the chair umpire announced in a loud voice. "6-3, 6-2".
Mona was already at the net, grinning widely. She extended her hand, and a moody, half-reluctant Paige had not choice but to shake it. "Good game," she muttered.
"You too," Mona answered back, though she was clearly thinking otherwise.
Paige, her head down, hastily put her belongings in her sports bag and rushed off the court. But she couldn't help shooting one last glance at the tall, raven-haired girl who was climbing down from the umpire's chair, her long, tanned legs on full display.
Why does she have to be so damned hot?...
This was a tough game. One of the hardest doubles match Paige McCullers and her partner, Shana Fring, had ever played. They were the better pair on paper, ranked higher than their opponents, Spencer Hastings and Aria Montgomery - also known as "team Sparia".
But despite the rankings, Paige and Shana had lost the second set 6-4, after having won the first one rather easily. It was mostly because of Spencer Hastings. The slim brunette was a real tiger on the court - very aggressive, especially at the net. Her first serve was strong, her volleys were sharp and angled, and both Paige and Shana had been caught completely off guard more than once by her undeniable tactical skills.
To be honest, though, Spencer's aggressive game wasn't the only reason that Paige was having trouble focusing on her tennis. The other (perhaps the main?) reason was the person seated in the umpire chair: the same stunningly beautiful, undeniably distracting raven-haired girl from two weeks before, when Paige had lost her composure on the court.
"Focus, McCullers," Shana spat at Paige after another failed return of serve from her partner. "What's going on with you today? That ball was easy."
"Not really," Paige muttered. "Hastings' top-spin serve is really hard to handle."
"It doesn't usually give you any trouble," Shana pointed out.
"Well, it is today," Paige grunted.
"You'd better get a grip quickly," Shana said. "We're approaching money-time."
"Six games all," the chair umpire announced, confirming Shana's words. "Tie-break."
Spencer clenched her fist in determination and turned to face her partner. "Hold on, Aria," she said. "You're doing great."
Aria gave her tennis partner and best friend a thankful smile. "Thanks, Spence. But I'm getting tired," she whispered. "They keep making drop shots, to make me run to the net, and then they always lob me," she complained with a pout. "It's not fair."
"I know," Spencer answered. "But don't worry. I'll cover your back. Try to aim your shots at McCullers; she seems unfocused today."
"Oh yeah, I noticed," Aria said. "I wonder why."
From the umpire chair, Emily Fields shot a quick glance at the tall, athletic auburn girl who was now whispering something in her partner's ear. Emily sighed internally. It was almost torture, having to remain impassive and neutral, and focus on the game, when all she wanted was to jump onto the court, run to the object of her dreams and kiss her senseless. Of course, it was only a fantasy; she and Paige had only exchanged a handful of words so far - all of them tennis-related, of course.
Still, it definitely seemed that fate had been toying with them lately, Emily thought. She had been the designated referee for Paige's tennis matches three times in a row - two single matches (both of which Paige lost), and this doubles match.
She had observed, of course, Paige's unusual lack of focus in her game, and her grumpy behavior. But, mostly, she had noticed the pale girl's lean but athletic body, showcased by the form-fitting black shorts and light green sleeveless tank top that the was wearing. She had also studied Paige's face, of course - those cute pink lips, which pouted every time she missed an easy shot, and her big, deep brown eyes - which turned as dark as a storm when she was angry, but looked so kind when she let her guard down.
Focus, Fields, Emily chastised herself. A few more points, and this match will be over.
She shifted slightly in her seat, smoothing her skirt in her lap; the short one that her best friend, Hanna Marin, always told her she looked hot in. The one she had chosen the day before, after looking at the schedules and seeing that Paige would be playing on her court. Again. If fate insisted on throwing the two of them together, she figured it was about time that she made a move, even if she didn't have any idea how.
She turned her attention to Spencer, who was serving first in the tie-break. The slim brunette aimed a perfect kicked serve that Shana, despite her best efforts, was unable to return.
"1-O," Emily announced.
Paige was now serving to Aria. She exchanged a quick look with Shana, who mouthed to her partner "aim at her backhand."Paige nodded. It hadn't been lost on her, of course, that Aria's backhand was her main weakness (along with her smash, naturally). Especially when she had to deal with a ball off of a high bounce.
Paige's first serve was perfect - with just the right amount of lift effect to prevent Aria from even reaching the ball. Paige's satisfied smile died on her lips, though, when Emily announced firmly: "Foot fault. Second serve."
"Excuse me?" Paige yelled. "Foot fault?! Since when do foot faults matter?"
"Since forever," Emily retorted. "Check the rules, Miss McCullers."
"Unbelievable," Paige growled, shaking her head in disbelief. "Who does she think she is?"
Shana motioned her to calm down. "Chill, Paige," the tall black girl said to her partner. "Breathe, and focus on your second serve."
But Paige was too pissed off to listen to Shana's wise advice. She rushed her motion, not throwing the tennis ball high enough, and her serve inevitably ended up smashing into the bottom of the net.
"2-0," Emily stated matter-of-factly.
"Fuck!" Paige exclaimed, before smashing her racket on the ground violently. The object bounced so high that it reached the chair umpire's area, hitting Emily hard on her left brow bone.
Emily screamed in pain, making Spencer, Aria and Shana rush to her, the three of them wearing horrified looks on their faces.
Paige put her head in her hands. She knew that her team had lost the match -hitting the umpire, even if it wasn't on purpose, obviously led to disqualification in tennis- but she couldn't care less at that point. She felt mortified, and so ashamed of herself. What did I just do?...
When Emily Fields exited the hospital lobby later that evening, she immediately spotted the auburn girl who was standing still at the bottom of the stairs, a worried look on her face, and a bouquet of flowers on her hands.
Emily froze dead in her tracks, not sure that she was ready to face Paige McCullers right then. She still felt upset -and disappointed- about what had happened at the end of the match. She had been scared, too. Paige's tennis racket had hit her just above her left eye. The doctor had told Emily that she had been lucky - a little lower, and the damage could have been more serious.
Emily sighed, and slowly walked down the stairs, her eyes on Paige. The tennis player looked paler than ever, the guilt obvious on her face.
"Emily," Paige said in a croaked voice, her eyes darting to the big bandage on Emily's forehead. "Is it.. is it bad?"
Emily shrugged. "It could have been. But it's virtually nothing," she quickly added when she saw the look of distress on Paige's face. "I just got a few stitches."
"Stit... Stitches?" Paige stammered. "Oh, my god. Emily, I'm so sorry."
Emily just nodded, and asked, motioning to the flowers: "so, are they for me?"
"Oh yeah," Paige said. "Of course, they're for you."
She handed the bouquet to Emily, who took it, after a brief moment of hesitation.
"...They're beautiful," she simply said.
"Yeah," Paige whispered, dipping her head. "It's the least I could do. Emily, I'm so, so sorry..."
"It's okay," Emily cut her off. "It was an accident."
"Yes, it was," Paige said.
"And it made your team lose the match," Emily reminded her.
"Yeah," Paige whispered, her voice barely audible. She had the look of a lost, sad puppy, Emily couldn't help but notice. Very different from the tennis court... but still very adorable.
"So," Emily resumed after a moment of silence. "I was heading home. I'm rather tired."
"Oh," Paige said, looking disappointed. "I was hoping..."
"What?" Emily asked, her heart skipping a beat.
"I was hoping... that I could buy you dinner," Paige blurted out. "If you'll let me? Please," she said, her cheeks blushing slightly.
"...Dinner," Emily said with a crooked smile. "Dinner. That sounds good, Paige McCullers. As long as we don't have to talk about tennis."
"That's a deal," Paige beamed, feeling relieved and elated at the same time.
As Paige stood beside her, gesturing towards the door, Emily felt a slight shudder come over her. The hospital lobby was slightly cold, but the shudder was partly from embarrassment. The short skirt that had seemed appropriate for the tennis court now left her feeling exposed.
Paige, picking up on Emily's discomfort, quickly shrugged off her warm-up jacket and draped it across Emily's shoulders, earning a shy, grateful smile.
Paige eagerly returned the smile. She had the feeling that even though she and Emily had started on the wrong foot, they were going to get along very well -and maybe more- in the future.
Sometimes, unpredictable can be good.
-THE END-
A/N: You guys are probably way too young to know about it, but the first sentence (Paige's exclamation) is obviously a reference to John McEnroe (a former tennis player from the eighties, who was very talented but often acted like a real brat on the court).