Hello everyone! I thought I would start off November with a bang by putting up a new chapter :) But first, notes...
Thank you to everyone that has followed or favourited myself or this story! A Perfect Match now has more than 300 followers (YAY!) and has been favourited almost 115 times too. I couldn't be more grateful. Also, thank you so much to all my lovely reviewers. Your feedback makes my day, especially the ones that don't just write me to tell me to get a move on with the romantic angle here. On a related note, someone (a guest) asked me to stop torturing my readers. So I feel I must ask; Sir/Ma'am, do you even know what torture is? That's a big word to use for a story that's meant to entertain.
There's not much else to report. This month is busy for me, so the next chapter might take a fortnight to come your way. I still don't know how I managed to write this one amidst all the Halloween madness I was involved in! Did you guys have fun trick-or-treating?
And now, without further ado, I bring you...THE UPDATE! Ta daaaaa...
Rachel kept her eyes on the house as it came into view amidst the tall trees, marveling at just how big the place, no, mansion, was when the car finally came to a stop. She stepped out of the car and thanked the driver when he pulled her bags out of the boot. The man bowed politely before stepping back into the car and driving away just as the front door opened to reveal Emma Pillsbury's smiling face.
The redhead's eyes were bright as she headed towards the brunette, "Rachel! Welcome to Osaka."
The American teenager smiled back, "Thank you, Emma."
"Let's head inside," Emma said, gesturing at the door. "Would you like a hand with your bags?"
Rachel's eyes moved over the three pieces of luggage she had with her that were sitting right where the driver had left them, "Yeah, I'd appreciate that. Could you maybe grab one of the suitcases?"
"No problem," Emma said, moving to the bags and reaching for the grey Samsonite suitcase. "Are you sure you'll be able to manage the rest?"
Rachel didn't answer; instead, she secured the purse she was already carrying around one shoulder, slung her tennis kit bag around the other shoulder and pulled up the handle of the deep purple Samsonite. "Lead the way," she smiled.
The two women entered the house and Rachel looked around the main foyer, admiring the tasteful decor. "The USTA thought it would be a good bonding exercise for the team to share a house while we were here," Emma explained as she kept on walking towards a passageway, Rachel following closely behind. "But don't worry, I drew the line at making the five of to you share a single room with bunk beds," the Fed Cup captain winked, before throwing open a door on her left. "This is you."
The redhead stopped just inside the door, immediately moving to push the handle of the suitcase she was lugging behind her down again. Rachel walked past her into the bright and airy room, her eyes immediately drawn to the large wooden king-sized bed. The American felt a wave of exhaustion pass over her as she stared at the mattress, quietly imagining how soft it would feel to fall into. She'd almost forgotten Emma was standing there when the older woman quietly uttered, "I'll leave you to get settled. I imagine you want to have a bit of a rest before I show you around?"
Rachel nodded, grateful that the woman seemed to understand the early morning flight had left her drained. "Alright then," Emma spoke kindly, "come find me when you're ready and I'll give you the tour."
The light outside was beginning to rapidly fade by the time Rachel emerged from her bedroom that evening. She found Emma making some notes in the living room adjoining the main foyer and sat down wearily in one of the spare armchairs. "Sleep well?," Emma asked.
Rachel nodded, "Like the dead, to be honest. I didn't sleep well in Beijing, and I think that nap made up for the last week. I still feel fatigued though."
"Mmm, that happens sometimes. Hopefully you get a good night's rest tonight, and feel better in the morning," the older woman stated.
"Amen," Rachel replied, before being temporarily immobilized by a yawn.
"Well, while you were sleeping Marley lost to Lopez. So I expect she'll be here at some point tomorrow too," Emma said.
"Santana must have played well," Rachel said. "Marley was in top form. I mean some of the shots coming off her racket were impossible to control."
Emma nodded, "From what I could tell, you held your own pretty well. It wasn't an easy win, by any means." Rachel merely shrugged; a win was a win. The redhead studied her for a moment, then added, "And your quarterfinal showing in Beijing has you at a career high No.6. So congratulations."
This time Rachel smiled, "Thank you, Emma."
Emma returned her smile, then looked back at the papers before her on the small coffee table. She studied them as she spoke, "The rankings sure are hard to get your head around sometimes. I mean, I don't understand how Quinn is going to lose her number one ranking even if she defends her title on Saturday."
"Yeah," Rachel agreed, "I'm not looking forward to having to work it all out in my head when I have to start defending points next season."
"Mmm, especially with your almost unprecedented rise to the top ten in your first year on tour. I think the ITF is considering changing it to a two-year system of some sort, but I can't imagine how that would work either," the captain said. "Oh well, I'd be surprised if Quinn hasn't wrested the top-rank back by the time we're in Paris. Lopez had a strong finish to 2011, and Quinn barely has any points to defend. Should be interesting, with the pressure now on Lopez."
Rachel nodded. She'd heard Santana goading Quinn about taking over the World No.1 ranking from her over the last week, and had been amused by the banter between the two friends. That, along with practice, gym and actual matches had helped her from obsessing over her strange fixation on Quinn's relationship, or lack thereof, with Noah Puckerman. The brunette had also made a conscious effort not to think about the pictures of Quinn in her bikini that had left such a lasting impression on her, especially when she had found her eyes drifting to the blonde's clothed midriff a few times when they'd all been hanging out in one of their apartments in Beijing. On those occasions she'd looked around guiltily, relief washing over her when she saw no one had spotted her obvious staring.
The teenager was lost in thoughts again when Emma broke the silence, "So, would you like the tour?"
Rachel welcomed the distraction, and followed the redhead around as she showed her through the rest of the large house. The place really was enormous with seven bedrooms spread over two levels plus a cinema room, a games room, a laundry, a study, a chef's kitchen, and indoor and outdoor swimming pools. When they got back to the living room, Emma informed Rachel that there was a guest villa a little further down on the estate, where the USTA's Fed Cup support staff was living. That area also contained a state-of-the art gymnasium, sauna and massage room. The American teen's quiet musings on who could have built such a place were answered when Emma added that the house belonged to a former Japanese Olympian-turned-politician.
One thing did strike her though; "How far do we have to travel to the actual tennis courts?"
"That's the best part," Emma said, looking pleased as punch. "The owner's son is on the junior tour, so he had tennis courts built behind the guest villa."
"Clay courts?" Rachel asked, eyebrows raised.
Emma nodded, "There's a clay court, a grass court, an outdoor hard court, a Rebound Ace one to be exact, and an indoor asphalt hard court."
Rachel was impressed, "Is his son any good?"
Emma shrugged, "He's ranked in the top twenty on the junior court. But we'll have to wait till he turns professional in a few years to see how good he really is. I have it on good authority that Sato trains here in the off-season though, so that's how I knew the courts were up to scratch when we first started considering options for where to train in Osaka."
The teenager nodded, then looked around at the relatively empty house, "Where are Bells and Stephens?"
"They're staying closer to the Utsubo Tennis Center while they're playing the tournament. They were here for a couple of days but the commute was a bit too much and would have been a real pain if they're scheduled to play night matches. Which they will be at some point if they stay alive in the tournament," Emma said as way of explanation.
Rachel nodded, and the redhead looked at her wristwatch, "Dinner should be served in half an hour. There's a fantastic chef that lives on the property. Does sushi sound alright for tonight? Or would you like me to ask him for other options?"
"I love sushi," Rachel answered, shaking her head at Emma's offer. The mention of the Japanese cuisine reminded the brunette of the fantastic meal she'd had in Tokyo, which in turn made her think about the woman who'd recommended the place. She decided to end that thought process before it could really even begin, blurting out the first question that came to mind, "Will it just be the two of us eating?"
Emma shook her head, "No, the support staff also eat dinner here with us in the main house. In fact, I think you know one of them."
Rachel's brow furrowed and she tilted her head as she regarded the captain, "I do?"
Emma opened her mouth to answer but was beaten to the explanation by a male voice, "Long time no see, Rach."
Rachel and Emma turned in their seats to look at the tanned man standing in the second doorway leading from the living room to the games room. The US Open champion stared up at the familiar blue eyes twinkling back at her, "Brody?"
"In the flesh," he grinned, moving to where the two women were seated.
Emma's phone rang and she glanced down at the name on her screen before standing up, "I'll leave you two to catch up while I take this." Brody took the seat she had just vacated as the redhead exited the room.
Rachel turned her attention back to Brody, who hadn't appeared to have taken his eyes off her. She looked at his smile, returning it with a less blinding one of her own even as she thought about how there was a time when that look would have dazzled her. "So...," he began, "it's been forever since I've seen you. Congratulations on winning the US Open and, you know, having a phenomenal year overall."
"Thank you," Rachel said, searching her mind for anything she might have read or heard about Brody's own year on tour and drawing a blank. Fortunately, Brody was happy to keep talking.
"I texted you a few times this past year, but never heard back. So I figured you must have changed your old number," he said, earning a nod from Rachel. There was a pause, and Rachel was worried he would ask for her new number before he went on, "I even tweeted you a couple of times, thinking maybe you'd see my messages on there. My handle's broody_brody?"
Rachel shook her head, "No, I don't remember seeing any tweets from you, sorry." The silence that followed was definitely awkward, giving the brunette the chance to reflect on how little she actually knew about the man seated beside her. Yes, she had had a crush on him when she was thirteen, but the attraction was purely physical. And was probably also influenced by the fact that Brody was a star junior at the time, with some success at the junior Slams. When the pair had eventually gone on a date two years later, Rachel remembered being grateful that Brody had opted to take her to the movies since she found she didn't have anything less than superficial to say to him. Which also explained why there was no second date.
"Uh, Emma didn't exactly say what you were doing here. I mean, obviously you aren't playing the Fed Cup, being a man and all," she said, making a half-hearted attempt at a joke while changing the topic.
The blinding smile back on his lips, Brody replied, "I'm here as practice partner, to help whip you ladies into shape for the finals!"
For a reason she couldn't quite put her finger on Rachel took offense to the way he'd phrased his answer, so the tone of her next statement might have sounded less than polite, "Because you weren't able to qualify for any tournaments on the ATP Tour this week?"
She was actually disappointed when her rudeness didn't seem to register with the man, who shrugged, "Well, I was originally scheduled to play the qualifying rounds of the Tiburon Challenger till the USTA's offer came along. And I figured, why not go hit with two of the world's top four female players? And you know, you, and Stephens and Bells. Who knows, maybe I could learn something from playing with you girls," he winked. "I swear, the fact that you're all super hot wasn't the only motivation behind what my Twitter followers seem to think is a selfless act."
He flashed her what he must have believed to be a winsome grin again, clearly thinking that complimenting her looks was a clever move, but Rachel was quietly seething. First of all, how dare he single out Quinn and Marley as the women worth being there for, when she was fresh off winning her first Grand Slam? GRAND SLAM! And Stephens and Bells had been in the top one hundred for a couple of years now, and deserved respect for their own achievements! 'And he might learn something from us girls? Us higher ranked girls? Big words from someone that's ranked so low I never hear about him in the news! If anything, he's going to learn a thing or two from us women. Selfless my ass! And how dare he objectify us, the sexist pig?'
Rachel knew she would let it rip if she opened her mouth to say anything and it was the knowledge that she had to spend a week around Brody that kept her from telling him off. 'One week, and you never have to see him again," she repeated to herself in her head, over and over again. Even she was impressed by how neutral her voice sounded when she spoke up, "Sorry, I can't remember if you already told me, but what is your current world ranking?"
Brody looked a bit puzzled at her lack of reaction to his "compliment" and the absence of any verbal gratitude to him for being there to help them train. "Uh, I'm No. 420, at the moment."
"Ah," Rachel said, nodding her head sagely, "for some reason I thought you were in the high five-hundred's, low six-hundreds. My bad."
Emma walked back in to the room, and Rachel welcomed her return, "Sorry, I had to take that." The redhead sat down, "So, I'm sure Brody has already told you that he and Jake Jacob are here in the capacity of hitting partner's this week?"
"I wasn't aware that Jacob is here too," Rachel replied.
"Oh?" Emma said, glancing at Brody. "Well, he is. And the USTA is very grateful to them for agreeing to help. And offering them a wild card each into the main draw of a Slam in 2013 is really the least we could do in return. I sincerely hope it's just the push they need to find their A-games on the ATP Tour," she finished, genuinely.
Rachel looked at Brody with her eyebrows raised, knowing fully well it was no slip of mind that had kept him from mentioning the wild card to her. For once the man seemed to catch on and studiously avoided her gaze. Emma mustn't have noticed the interaction because she kept going, "And Quinn is bringing her regular hitting partner, Chang."
"Mike Chang," Rachel nodded, "I've hit with him a couple of times. He's a really nice guy."
"So I've been told," Emma smiled. "I've never met him, but I know he was a promising junior until a chronic shoulder injury ended his competitive aspirations."
There was silence for a few seconds, Rachel taking the time to appreciate how lucky she had been to not have her dreams derailed by injury. She knew many other juniors hadn't had the same fortune as her. Taking a deep breath, she addressed Emma, "You walked in before Brody could tell me who else was here, as support staff." The brunette sat back and listened as Emma proceeded to provide her with thatt information as well as the tentative training schedule for the next few days. The brunette didn't care if Brody realized he wasn't being asked to actively contribute to their discussion.
Rachel nursed the hot cup of coffee between her hands as she browsed the morning paper. The brunette's hair was still wet from the swim she'd decided to go for that morning in the outdoor Olympic-sized pool, and somewhere in her head was a thought that she really should go wash the chlorine off her, sooner rather than later. She looked up from her seat at the island table when she heard someone enter the kitchen, and inwardly groaned when Brody approached her.
"Morning, Rach," he smiled, running an appreciative gaze over her. Rachel found herself suddenly wishing she had taken that shower sooner, just so she wasn't in her swimmers. 'At least I'm not in a two-piece', she consoled herself.
"Good morning, Brody," she answered, before looking back down at the newspaper. She tried not to make a face when the male tennis player poured himself a glass of milk and took a seat beside her.
"I came here to ask if you wanted to go for a swim, but I can see you've already been. Any chance I can convince you to jump back in the water?" he asked.
Rachel looked up to meet his earnest gaze, and shook her head, "I was actually going to shower and head into town for a look around before this evening's scheduled practice. But thank you for the invitation."
"Oh! I can come with you, if you want," Brody said, his eyes lighting up at the idea.
Once again, the American teen shook her head, "You're all ready to swim," she said, gesturing towards the towel slung over his shoulder and the swimming trunks he was already wearing.
Brody took a sip of his milk, before insisting, "I really don't mind. I mean, the pools will still be here when we come back."
Rachel vaguely registered the sound of a car's wheels crunching along the gravel road leading up to the house as she put her hand up, "Really, I'd rather go alone, Brody. I prefer going sightseeing by myself. That way no one has to wait around while I take my own sweet time, and I don't feel the need to rush for anyone else." The half-lie came easily from her lips.
"Ok," Brody relented, albeit begrudgingly. "But maybe you could let me show you around town another time? The guys and I went out on the town a couple of days before you arrived, and I think there are some places you would really like."
A car door slammed shut somewhere, briefly distracting Rachel from wondering how she could politely turn down the invitation. She opted to go with, "Sure, it would be great to go out with the whole team. I could probably talk the girl's into paying for the night out too, as a thank you to the support team."
Brody looked taken aback, "The whole team? No. No, I was hoping it could just be you and me."
Rachel didn't like where this was going, "Just us? Why?"
"Because," Brody smiled, "I'd like to take you out on a date." He reached for her hand, and the brunette was stunned into silence as she stared at his own hand resting atop her more tanned one.
"A date?" she repeated, stupidly. Was there even a polite way to turn one down?
"Yes, a date," Brody grinned, obviously mistaking her lack of verbosity as a positive sign. "Technically, another date, since we've already had our first date."
Something in her peripheral vision caught Rachel's attention, and she turned to see Quinn Fabray taking in the scene before her. The brunette snatched her hand out from under Brody's, not wanting the blonde to get the wrong idea. She watched Quinn's eyes zone in on the action, before slightly narrowed hazel eyes looked up into her own. Rachel stood to greet her, not really registering how fast her heart was beating, or the uneasy feeling going through her at the thought of how her friend might have perceived the scene she'd just witnessed. "Quinn," she smiled tentatively, walking to her friend, "I didn't think you'd be here this soon."
The blonde blinked and the troubled look was gone from her eyes, in it's place a fake smile that made Rachel even more worried for her friend. She returned Rachel's hug, the fake smile still in place when she pulled back to look down at the teenager, "Hi Rach."
The sound of a barstool being pulled along the tiled floor distracted Rachel from wondering why the smile wasn't reaching Quinn's eyes, and a second later Brody approached the pair. "I'm Brody," he said, thrusting a hand towards Quinn. "I'm a huge fan," he added, smile firmly in place.
Quinn shook his hand, but didn't say anything back. She looked between Rachel and Brody, and the brunette could see the wheels turning in her head. It gave Rachel a bad feeling, and she really wished Brody would leave. Now.
Unfortunately, the man had other ideas. "Congratulations on the win yesterday," he said. "It's a pity you still lose the top-rank when the rankings are released tomorrow."
'What is wrong with this guy?', Rachel wondered, throwing an incredulous look his way. 'Does he have no filter at all?'
"Yeah, sometimes you can't have it all," Quinn replied, her words sounding heavy. The tone surprised Rachel, especially since she'd heard the blonde taking Santana's jokes about the ranking in her stride in Beijing just days before.
"So, uh," Quinn said, slinging her backpack higher up on her shoulder while her gaze darted between the room's other two occupants, "I wasn't aware we were allowed to bring guests to the training camp. Or I might have brought someone too."
Rachel's brow furrowed, "Neither was I." She wondered what the blonde meant by that last line. Who would Quinn have brought to Osaka? Quinn for her part now looked confused too, and it took the brunette a moment to catch her drift, "Oh! Brody isn't my guest! He's here as part of the USTA's support staff, as a hitting partner for us."
"Oh," Quinn said, dragging out the word. Rachel unconsciously took a small step away from Brody, thinking she could practically see the wheels turning in Quinn's head. Unfortunately, she still didn't know what she was thinking.
Emma walked into the room, appearing to be searching for something. She stopped when she spotted Quinn, "I heard you pull in! And then I saw your bags by the door, so I just followed the sound of voices. Welcome!" she smiled.
"Thanks Emma," Quinn smiled, and Rachel noted that the grin she gave the redhead wasn't like the fake one she'd directed at her moments before. "This place looks great."
"Oh, you haven't seen the half of it yet! How about I show you to your room, and then I can give you the tour," Emma offered. The blonde nodded, and Emma turned her attention to Rachel, "Would you like to come with, Rachel?"
'Remember to send Emma a nice Christmas present. Something expensive!,' Rachel said to herself, nodding vigorously. "Yes please. I'll shower after."
The three women made to leave the room, only Emma really stopping to give it's lone male occupant a friendly half-wave on their way out. Rachel, trailing the other two, was almost out the door when she was forced to pause when he called out her name. She turned to look at him, a questioning look on her face. "Let me know when you're free?" he asked.
She could hear Quinn and Emma's footsteps get further away as she shook her head, "I don't think I'll be free, Brody. Sorry."
"Not at all?" he asked, obviously confused.
"Not at all," Rachel repeated, her words carrying a sense of finality to them. And with that, she turned on her heel and walked out of the kitchen.
