Hi everyone! It's been way too long since my last update, and I apologise profusely for the delay. I mean it when I say I enjoy writing this story, but don't have the luxury to work on it as often as I would like to. I already have plans for more stories, but won't get to them until I finish this one. Why bite off more than I can chew, right? I already feel guilty enough when I can't update this one more than a couple of times a month! Hopefully that changes soon.
This story has had so many new followers and been favourited quite a few times since I last updated, so thank you to everyone that has clicked those buttons. It's most encouraging as a writer to know that people want to be notified the minute you update a story, so thank you. Also, thank you to everyone that has written me a review. As you probably know by now, I love engaging in conversations about where this story is going, and where you would like to see it go. So keep 'em coming folks!
Finally, I'm glad the majority of you are still enjoying the slow burn. That said, I feel like something major is about to happen. Fellow writers will know what I mean when I say my characters write themselves, and I feel like the Rachel in my story is on the brink of a self-revelation. I have tried not to rush it, but at the same time my Rachel is smart, and won't wander around the land of denial longer than I think is realistic. As some of you have pointed out, Quinn seems to be more in tune with her feelings, but I can't say for certain since this story is being written from Rachel's POV :p
So, let's get to the next chapter. I have written a longer one as both a thank you to you readers for sticking with the story, and an apology for making you wait so long. I look forward to hearing what you think of it. Happy Thanksgiving, everybody :)
Rachel glared at her phone screen. How the hell was she supposed to come up with a decent word when all she had was three U's, two I's, an E and a D? The letter-tiles shone back at her as she considered her options. She could play DUI. Or DEE. Or DUE. Her only option was to play the last vowel over or under the T that Brittany had used to play TOXIC for fifty-three points on her last turn, giving her a seventy-nine point lead over Rachel in this latest Words With Friends battle that currently had only eighteen tiles left in the 'bag'. The two had been playing the online game for years now, and their games more-often-than-not got very, very close. Just like the matches they played on court.
The brunette shifted on her side, fiddling with the pillow under her head till she was comfortable in her new position. She was still racking her brains for a word that would give her more than seven measly points when there was a sound signaling a new incoming message within the game. A click of a button brought up the chat window with Brit.S.P.
'Hey Rach. FaceTime me when you see this? I miss your face!'
Rachel closed the window, decided DUI was the best she had at the moment and took a second to thank the heavens above for the Z, R and M that replaced the letters she had just played before exiting the game. Those were tiles she could potentially score big points with in her quest to catch up to Brit in this game. She clicked another couple of buttons before propping her phone up against another pillow beside her and listening to the familiar ring of FaceTime trying to connect with her blonde friend.
Said blonde's face grinned at her mere seconds later. "That was quick! I mean, I saw the green dot next to your name but I just figured your Internet was connected."
"Mmm, you messaged while I was lying here, playing my turn against you," Rachel replied, shrugging the shoulder she wasn't laying on.
"Yeah? What time is it there?" Brittany asked.
Rachel glanced up at the wall clock that was in her line of sight, "Just past four in the afternoon."
"Oh, ok. So you're... nine hours ahead of me at the moment," the blonde calculated, beginning to walk somewhere with the phone in her hand. "Mom and Dad send you their love, by the way."
"Give them my love, too," Rachel smiled, watching as her friend stopped in front of the fridge in her family's London-home and pulled out a bottle of orange juice. "You heading out to train soon?"
"Gym," the Englishwoman supplied. "How's your training going?" she asked before bringing the bottle to her mouth, her eyes still fixed on the screen.
Rachel felt her good mood at seeing her friend's face sour, "It could be better. Brody's here."
Brittany's eyes went wide and Rachel was almost amused at how quickly she gulped down the drink in her mouth before blurting, "Brody Weston? He's there?"
"Yup. The USTA has hired him and Jake Jacob as hitting partner's for us this week. And Quinn's asked her usual hitting partner Mike Chang to come along as well, but he doesn't get here till tonight," Rachel clarified.
"Ah, ok. And Brody's being annoying?" the blonde asked, taking another sip of the juice.
"Well, he asked me out yesterday," Rachel began, but stopped when Brittany's eyes went wide again and she hurriedly gulped down another mouthful of juice.
"I think I'll hold off on drinking my OJ till after you're done with this story," the blonde said, placing the bottle down on a kitchen counter that was visible in the background before leaning against the same counter and giving Rachel her undivided attention. "He asked you out?"
Rachel nodded, "Yeah, he said that we should hit the town together while we're here. Just him and me, no one else. In a nutshell."
"And what did you say?" Brittany pressed.
"I said no, duh," Rachel replied, rolling her eyes.
"Oh, thank God!" the Englishwoman exhaled, and for a second Rachel was affronted at how relieved her best friend looked. As if she would ever go out with Brody again after that ridiculously boring date!
"How did he take it?" Brittany asked, and Rachel noticed that one of her hands was reaching for the orange juice again.
"Well, I suppose. I didn't really stick around after politely declining, since I wanted to see what Quinn and Emma were doing," the American said.
The hand stopped reaching for the drink again. "Wait. Quinn was there when this happened?," wide blue eyes questioned.
Rachel sighed, "Yeah. She walked into the kitchen as Brody was saying something cheesy about how we'd technically already had our first date." The teenager paused for a moment, a memory suddenly coming back to her, "Quinn seemed to think Brody was my guest, for some reason. But I cleared that up."
"Uh huh," Brittany said, a thoughtful look on her features. "Where is Quinn now? I thought you two would be spending your free time together..." she asked, leaving the question hanging there.
"I haven't actually seen Quinn since yesterday afternoon. The USTA had organized a car to take me into the city so I could look around, and I asked her if she wanted to come with but she said she was tired after the final in Beijing and her early flight out," Rachel said.
"Well, she probably was," Brittany nodded.
"Oh yeah, for sure. She'd even gone to bed before Marley and I got back from our day out later in the evening. Marley took me up on my offer to come with," the teenager added.
"I figured, Rach," the Englishwoman smiled. "So Q didn't train with you guys today?"
"You're picking up Santana's lingo," Rachel smiled fondly, and then shook her head, "And no, Marley and I hit with Brody and Jake this morning, but Emma said Quinn had requested she be allowed to hit the gym in the morning before she trains with us this evening."
Brittany seemed to consider something for a moment, "Did Quinn and Brody speak when she walked in while you two were in the...kitchen, was it?"
"Mm hmm," Rachel said, grabbing her phone and turning so she was laying on her other side. She leaned the phone against another pillow, "He introduced himself and said he was a fan. And then he made an inappropriate comment about how it was a pity she had lost the top rank despite her win. I think it might have put her in a bit of a bad mood."
"His comment? I doubt it. Sanny was making the same digs all week and Q never looked put out. In fact, San told me just last night that she received a singing telegram from Quinn yesterday afternoon about how she should enjoy her short-lived reign at the top," Brittany said, her brow furrowed. Her expression brightened a moment later, "I actually thought that was hilarious!"
Now it was Rachel's turn to crease the gap between her eyebrows, "Hmm. Maybe the comment was more annoying coming from a stranger? Because I was there. And she didn't look happy."
In hindsight the American realized that Quinn actually seemed a bit off even before Brody had made his remark. But she decided not to share that information with Brittany. What was the point anyway? Hadn't they already discussed that Quinn was bone tired after her week in Beijing? That was probably the reason for her weird mood. Yes, that was most certainly why the smile hadn't reached Quinn's eyes.
Brittany shrugged, "Maybe. Or maybe something else was bugging her."
"Like what?" Rachel asked. Brittany's tone had made it sound like she knew something Rachel didn't.
"I don't know," Brittany said, reaching for the juice and bringing it to her lips. "You're the one that's around her, so you'd probably be the best person to figure it out."
The brunette scrutinized her friend, whose blue eyes were trained right on her as she sipped the orange juice. She watched her throat bob up and down a few times as she drained the contents of the bottle, and then smiled at the phone camera with slightly orange lips. "I need to bounce now. Wanna talk later in the week?" Brittany questioned.
Rachel approached Quinn's room, already dressed in her tennis clothes. Her mind had been distracted as she had gotten dressed, and she had actually almost walked out of her room wearing her hard-court shoes till she'd glanced down and realized her mistake. It had been weird to pack shoes for both hard courts and clay courts when she had been leaving New York, and she couldn't say she was particularly enjoying having to get used to different racket tensions every day either. The brunette still had two hard-court tournaments to compete in before the Fed Cup Finals so she'd scheduled in daily practice times on the hard-courts housed on the property, outside of the USTA-run practice hits on the clay courts. Jake had been happy to hit with her on the indoor asphalt court over the last couple of days, and she was hoping either he or one of her Fed Cup teammates would agree to more intensive hard-court session early tomorrow morning, before the gym session Emma had penciled in.
The brunette stopped outside the door and was about to knock on it when Quinn's slightly agitated voice reached her ears, "I know what I saw."
Rachel stood there with her hand hovering in mid-air, her curiosity piqued by the tense undercurrent in the blonde's tone, "My eyes work just fine, San."
The brunette looked around guiltily, stepping closer to Quinn's closed door when she saw that Marley's door down the hall was still firmly shut. She heard Quinn exhale loudly, and noted that the blonde's tone was slightly less hostile when she next spoke, "Oh yeah? And how exactly do you propose I broach the subject?"
Rachel found herself smiling fondly at her friend's choice of words. Quinn spoke the kind of language you didn't hear often these days; which wasn't to say she spoke Shakespearean English. She just used vocabulary that not many others opted to use in their daily conversations. And the blonde was also one of the few people that didn't revert to shorthand in her text messages either, which the American teenager appreciated even more. Rachel had never been too fond of text lingo, especially when people changed the spellings of words for no apparent reason. For instance, Rachel couldn't understand why someone would use 'lyke' when it took the exact same characters to write 'like'.
A humourless laugh from the other side of the door brought Rachel back to the present, "Uh huh. Yeah, sure. You haven't seen him, San. He looks like he's just stepped out of the pages of Vogue or something. Like a brunette human Ken doll."
The teenager frowned, something stirring in her as she eavesdropped on the conversation. Who was Quinn talking about? Was she interested in someone? Based on Quinn's description, the man was obviously ridiculously good looking. But what was with the blonde's despondent tone? Was her interest not reciprocated? What idiot wouldn't be interested in Quinn Fabray?
Rachel made up her mind that whoever Quinn was talking about wasn't worthy of the blonde's affections. A movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention and she glanced at Marley's door just in time to see a shadow appear under it. Thinking quickly, she took a few paces away from the door and pretended to be approaching it just as the World No.3 opened her own door. "Hey Marley," Rachel smiled, coming to a stop in the same spot she had been occupying mere moments ago.
"Hey Rachel," Marley grinned back, slinging her tennis back around her shoulders.
Quinn's voice carried over from the other side of the door again, "Hold on a sec, San." Rachel heard footsteps heading her way before the door opened and she stood face-to-face with her blonde friend, who was holding her cellphone against her shoulder.
"Hey Quinn," she smiled. "I was just coming to see if you guys were ready to head to the court."
The blonde's eyes darted from herself to Marley, who came to a stop next to Rachel, before she nodded. "Yeah," Quinn said softly, the corners of her lips slightly turned up. She put the phone against her ear, "I gotta go, S."
Rachel could hear the hint of Santana's muffled voice coming through the phone's earpiece, and wondered exactly what the Spaniard had said when Quinn shot a panicked look her way. The brunette got the distinct impression the blonde was worried she had heard whatever it was the Latina had just uttered, and saw relief wash over her features when her own expression remained unchanged. Rachel did raise her eyebrows when more muted words caused Quinn to very obviously blush, and she found herself running an appreciative gaze over the pink tinge that graced the other woman's cheeks as she hurriedly bid goodbye to her friend. Rachel could hear Santana cackling just before Quinn ended the call and picked her tennis bag up off the floor inside her room. It was then that Rachel noticed the black tape over Quinn's left calf muscle.
"Are you hurt?," Rachel asked, as soon as Quinn had closed the door behind her?
The trio set off. "No, I'm not injured, per se. My calf's just been a little tight since the Beijing final, and Dave suggested I strap it to avoid a calf strain."
"Is he here?" Rachel asked, wondering if the physiotherapist had accompanied the blonde to Osaka and, if he had, why she hadn't seen him yet.
"No, he has the week off. But he made me Skype him when I strapped my calf, since he has no faith in my abilities," Quinn smiled. "And I need to Skype him again when I'm talking the tape off. He's also why I wasn't at training this morning. I was given strict instructions to spend quality time with the foam roller in the gym before I put my the leg through the usual drills."
"That sounds horribly painful. But yeah, calf strains are annoying," Marley threw in, leading the way out of the house and to the rose garden they needed to walk through to get to the clay court. "I missed two months of tennis after last year's Australian Open because of a Grade 2 tear. You want to avoid that."
"That's what Dave said," Quinn agreed. "I sort've wish I'd asked Mercedes to come with. I think a deep tissue massage would be very beneficial right about now."
"Ugh!" Marley shuddered, "That sounds even more painful than the foam roller." Quinn merely shrugged.
"How did you guys go at training this morning?" Quinn asked the other two.
"It was more of a light hit than anything else," Rachel responded. "But I should probably give you fair warning that Emma wants us to play sets this evening. Do you think you're good to run around on your leg?"
"There's one way to find out," Quinn quipped, sharing a smile with Rachel.
The clay court came into view, and Rachel rolled her eyes when Brody caught sight of them and waved enthusiastically. "That guy, Brody, insists we met at a training camp in Carson a few years ago, but I swear I have no recollection of ever meeting him," Marley said.
"No, he did actually meet you," Rachel spoke up, turning to address the other brunette. "But at Boca Raton, not Carson."
Marley directed an interested gaze at her. "Huh. How do you know that?"
Rachel was about to relate the story of how Brody came back from a camp at the USTA-center in Boca Raton waxing poetic about the No. 4 ranked junior in the world Marley Rose, leaving out the bit about how his praise had made a thirteen-year-old Rachel stupidly jealous, when the topic of their discussion appeared at Rachel's side. "Lemme grab that for you, Rach," Brody said, reaching for the bag strap slung over Rachel's arm.
The brunette backed up a couple of steps to avoid his outstretched arm, "No thank you, Brody. I am quite capable of carrying the bag myself."
She heard Marley let out a low laugh as she and Quinn continued on through the little gate that led onto the court. She briefly noticed Quinn working the muscles in her jaw before the two women passed her, but didn't have time to dwell on it when Brody reached again, "Are you sure? It looks pretty heavy."
Rachel sighed at the ridiculous display of what he must have thought was chivalry but came across as condescending sexist behaviour, "Trust me, Brody, I'm fine. I've carried this same kit onto tennis courts across the world for years now, and can assure you that I haven't once buckled under its weight."
"Well, if you're sure..." Brody said, stepping in front of her to hold the little gate open for her to pass through.
Rachel decided to forego the manners her fathers had so painstakingly drilled into her as she walked through the gate without thanking Brody. The teenager even picked up the pace to get away from him as quickly as possible, approaching Marley and Quinn who were already standing with Emma. "... on fine-tuning our clay court games. Unfortunately you don't have the luxury of slowly adapting to the surface as you would in the lead up to the French, so we're looking at it from the point of view of what aspects of your hard-court game can be tweaked to be effective on clay. That way you're practically simultaneously prepping for the last tournaments of the year, as well as the Fed Cup final. Hi Rachel!"
Rachel nodded her head at the Fed Cup captain as she came to a stop alongside the trio. Emma had had more or less the same conversation with herself, Marley and Cici before their training session that morning, so the teenager knew the latest talk was more for Quinn's benefit.
"Sounds like a plan," Quinn said, bobbing her head.
"Good," Emma smiled. "Would you three like to warm up then?" The threesome began to turn away when Emma added, "Go easy on the calf, Quinn."
Rachel kept an eye on Quinn through the warm up and light hit that followed, and was appeased to see the blonde didn't seem to be in any real discomfort due to her leg. There was one slightly worrying moment when Rachel and Marley were tossing a medicine ball back and forth to one another while Quinn worked on court movement with Jake. Rachel stood fixed to the spot when the blonde chased down a drop shot and continued to slide forward on the red clay. The brunette was worried the forward momentum might have further aggravated the muscle, and let out a relieved laugh when Quinn calmly came to a stop inches from the net, turned around and tossed a cheeky "You'll have to try harder than that, Jacob," over her shoulder as she walked back to the baseline.
The session ended up entailing a warm up, some stretching, light hitting, agility training and working on court positioning and movement, and Rachel could feel minor spasms in her leg muscles when she, Quinn and Marley stopped to get some much-needed hydration a good while later. Emma looked very happy as she addressed the trio, "You're looking very good out there, ladies. I'm impressed how quickly you're adapting your games to the surface. Good work!" The players acknowledged her praise with bobs of their heads, before she continued, "You've had a good hit, so I was thinking we'd wrap up this session with three competitive games each. Sound good?" The threesome nodded again. "Alright then, let's draw straws to see what order we're going to play in. Shortest one goes first."
That's how Rachel came to be sitting beside Quinn five minutes later, watching Marley and Brody walk to opposite ends of the court. The brunette glanced at the blonde out of the corner of her eye, watching her profile as she typed something into her phone. She turned to look at Quinn more fully when she heard the sound of the screen being locked, "How's the leg?"
"Good," Quinn smiled, "Dave will be relieved. I know I am."
"I'm glad," Rachel grinned, before her attention was diverted by the sound of a tennis ball being smacked. She turned her neck to watch Marley and Brody play out the first point, which was won by Brody.
"So...," Quinn began, not taking her eyes off the action taking place on court, "are you two dating now?"
Rachel whipped her head around to look at the blonde, "Are who two dating?"
Quinn had an almost skeptical look on her features when she turned to Rachel, but that morphed into slight confusion when she took in Rachel's own expression. "You know, you and him," she said, gesturing to Brody with her thumb. "I heard him saying you'd been out on a date."
The blonde arched an eyebrow at the end of her statement, and for a moment Rachel thought about how she'd only ever seen that expression directed at Santana or in post-match interviews after Quinn had been asked a rather silly question. Then her mind processed what Quinn had just said, and she couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of her. "Yes, we did go out on a date..."
She knew her open-ended answer was ridiculously evasive and her tone could be construed to be that of a girl with a giddy crush, but a part of her was curious to see how the blonde would respond to it. As she had expected, the blonde didn't look impressed and turned her gaze back to the court even as she asked, "And how was it?"
"Well, we went to the movies. It was my first time seeing Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince," Rachel said, her tone nonchalant but her eyes fixed on Quinn's reaction.
She watched the blonde pause, before she slowly turned her head to look at the teenager. "The Half-Blood Prince?" Quinn asked, confusion spelt all over her features. "Hadn't you already seen it?"
"Not before then, no," Rachel shrugged, her eyes shining with mirth. "Then again, it had only been out for a few days when we went to see it."
Something seemed to click in Quinn's head, "So your date with him..."
"Was three years ago," Rachel said, nodding. "Back when we were both in the USTA program and on the junior tour. He came to train in New York some months of the year."
"Oh," Quinn said, her eyes seeming to search Rachel's expression before she turned back to the court. The brunette stayed quiet, letting her friend process that piece of information. She knew pressing the blonde about her slightly standoffish attitude wouldn't get her anywhere right then, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to bring it up at a more opportune time in the near future. They were still silent when Marley and Brody approached the net to change ends, and he stopped to address Rachel before crossing over.
"Pity you're playing Jake and not me, Rach. I was looking actually forward to hitting on you. I mean, with you," he winked.
'God, where does he get his lines?" Rachel inwardly groaned. "You get to hit with Marley and Quinn, Brody," she answered evenly, trying not to laugh at the incredulous look she'd seen Quinn shoot his way. "If I were you, I'd be pretty thrilled to be able to hit with two of the world's top three players." She paused to glance in Marley's direction, tilting her head her way when the brunette came to a stop at the baseline, "It isn't polite to keep a lady waiting. Or any opponent, for that matter."
Brody threw her a confused look before heading back on to the court. The brunette watched Quinn track him with her eyes and waited for hazel eyes to land on her again, "I'm guessing you didn't hear me turn him down when he asked me out again yesterday?" She smiled when Quinn shook her head, "Well, I hope I've cleared up any confusion now."
The pair fell into a more comfortable silence than the last one, watching Brody run Marley ragged around the court before hitting a forehand winner and grinning at the World No. 3. Rachel didn't miss the look he threw her from the corner of his eye, checking to see she'd seen him winning the point. It was clear Quinn hasn't missed the glance either when she commented, "He's obviously still into you."
Rachel hmm-ed, "Unfortunately, it appears you're right. Although I think he's more into the idea of who I currently am than anything else. Regrettably for him, I'm not the least bit interested in him any more."
"Not at all?" Quinn asked, her tone carrying traces of doubt.
"Not if he was the last man on earth," Rachel replied.
"Good," Quinn said, her posture relaxing as she sat back in her chair.
"Hmm?" Rachel asked, wondering what the blonde meant by that.
Quinn shrugged one shoulder, "He sorta seems like a bit of a douche bag."
"Yeah," Rachel agreed. "Funnily enough, I think he was always the same. I guess I'm the one that's changed."
"Well, I guess I should say I'm glad you have," the blonde said, smiling softly at the teenager. Rachel returned the smile, glad to see it was reaching Quinn's eyes again.
Brody whooped, and Rachel turned to see him and Marley approaching the net to shake hands. His loud exclamation left her with no doubt as to who had won their little competition, and she rose to get ready to play Jake next. "Good luck," Quinn said softly as Rachel bent down to pick up her racket.
"Thank you, Quinn," Rachel said over her shoulder, patting Marley on the back when they passed one another. "You played well," she told the other woman, then stopped across from Jake.
"Rock, paper, scissors to see who serves first?," the caramel skinned boy grinned.
Three hard fought games later, a sweaty US Open champion shook hands with a very dirty Jake at the net. "That was close," Jake smiled, still gripping Rachel's hand.
The teenager shook her head, returning his smile with a rueful one of her own, "A win is a win."
"Mmm, you were unlucky to mistime that backhand. Otherwise you had me beat. Don't be too hard on yourself," he smiled kindly, releasing her hand before the pair started walking back to their chairs.
"I'll have my revenge tomorrow, Jacob," Rachel mock threatened, which was met by a laugh from the male player.
"I look forward to it, Berry," he threw back, before they parted ways.
Quinn was putting her cellphone down on her chair when Rachel approached the women. "Well played, Rachel," Emma smiled.
"Yeah, you looked good out there," Marley smiled.
Quinn grabbed her racket, and nodded her head at Rachel, "You're going to be a tough act to follow, Berry," she smiled, and then headed off to where Brody was waiting at the net. Rachel dropped her racket onto her kit bag and sat down in the chair she had been occupying before she played her games, taking a big gulp of her drink.
"I know I've already said this, but I am so amazed at how quickly you three have found your clay games again. I thought it would take a couple of days at the very least before you were this competitive," Emma commented, leaning back in her chair with an air of satisfaction around her.
"There's still room for improvement though," Rachel said, still silently berating herself over the backhand she'd messed up on the lone breakpoint she'd had against Jake. Marley hummed her agreement.
"There always is, even when you're in top form," Emma pointed out. "That doesn't change the fact that I'm very pleased with the shape of your games," she smiled.
The trio watched Quinn and Brody approach their respective baselines. "I've asked Brody not to run Quinn around too much," Emma spoke in a low voice. "I would have asked Quinn to take it easy, but we all know how competitive she is."
Marley laughed, "Yeah, asking Brody was probably the smarter option."
The three woman watched Brody and Quinn play out the first point, which ended with Quinn hitting a clean winner past him. The second point ended the same way, after the blonde lured Brody to the net with a clever drop shot and then wrong-footed him with a crosscourt backhand. Rachel caught a frown on her former crush's features at the end of the point, and then found herself glowering at him when he proceeded to send four aces flying past the blonde to win the game. Rachel was a strong believer that the men didn't need to tone their serves and power down when playing mixed doubles against women, but she also knew that the point of this week-long camp in Osaka was to ready the Fed Cup team to play the French women for the title. Brody's superfast serves would serve no purpose other than to win him points in these frankly meaningless mini-competitions. She turned to gauge Emma's reaction to his play and could tell the redhead wasn't too impressed either.
"Well, I guess that's one way of not running her around," Marley muttered under her breath, so only Rachel and Emma could hear her. "It's also one way of being an asshole." Rachel couldn't agree more.
The two changed ends after the first game, and it was plain to see Quinn was in the zone when the blonde walked past them. The blonde reached the baseline and stopped to stretch out her neck muscles before sending down her first serve. The ball sent Brody wide off court, leaving the entire court open for Quinn's return. Brody must have made the obvious assumption that she would hit a winner to the opposite side because he began sprinting to his left, only to be left stranded when she hit a drop shot loaded with backspin just beyond the net. The point was perfectly executed, and Rachel fought the urge to stand up and applaud.
Quinn sent her second serve right into Brody's body, following the ball in to the net and calmly putting his return away with a forehand hit at an acute angle. The ball landed right on the line, and Brody had the gall to approach the net to check the mark.
Quinn's third serve was a fault, and Brody punished her second serve with a forehand hit so hard that both his legs were almost half a meter off the ground when his racket made contact with the ball. Quinn managed to get a racket to it, but there was too much power on the ball for her to be able to control it. "Good shot," the blonde complimented out loud. 'Maybe he'll learn some class from her,' Rachel thought.
Quinn's next serve was slower than usual, and for a second Rachel wondered what she was thinking. Then the brunette realized the lack of pace had caught Brody off guard and he was forced to move forward to meet the ball, negotiate the spin on it and generate the extra pace he liked to play with. In the end, all he managed was a high return that Quinn put away with ease.
As if to make a point, Quinn ended the game with an ace that was sent down with pinpoint precision. It landed at the very center of the T, right where the service line met the center service line. Rachel got the feeling that she had just witnessed a master class in tennis.
"What's the bet we can expect four more aces now?" Marley whispered.
Rachel glanced at her, and then past her at Emma, who was leaning forward in her chair, watching the action unfold. A buzzing sound caught Rachel's attention, and she looked down at Quinn's phone that was vibrating in silent mode in the chair beside her. It didn't take a genius to work out who the 'S' that was currently trying to call Quinn was. Rachel turned back to the court, where Brody was bouncing the ball. Seconds later, the buzzing sound stopped.
Sure enough, Brody sent a powerful serve straight down the T. It was impossible to say exactly how fast the serve was in the absence of a courtside radar gun, but Rachel was certain it was much faster than the fastest serve Quinn could expect to face on the women's tour. The momentum of sending down the serve propelled Brody all the way to the service line on his own side of the court. To say he looked stunned when the ball flew back past him just before he stopped his forward movement was putting it mildly.
Quinn had met his serve early, taking it on the upward bounce. She'd used the pace to her advantage, and had really just changed its angle to guide it back to the opposite end of the court. In a nutshell, she'd used Brody's brute force against him.
Marley let out a low whistle beside Rachel. "You know, I watch Quinn play shots like that and I think to myself, I have so much to learn." Rachel understood her sentiments exactly.
Brody was still shaking his head as he bounced the ball before his next serve. This time he sent a fast, wide serve, forcing Quinn to lunge for the ball with her backhand. The return was nothing to write home about, and Brody was perfectly poised to meet it in the center of the court. As luck would have it though the ball caught the tape, wobbled for a split second and then spilt over onto Brody's side of the net. All he could do was stare at it in disbelief.
"Fortune favours the brave," Emma said out loud, letting out a little laugh. Rachel didn't miss the annoyed look Brody shot her at her words, before he returned to the baseline.
His third serve was the fastest he'd sent down yet, which was saying a lot. Unfortunately it was hit a bit too hard, and went long.
"Fault," Quinn called from her side of the net.
Brody looked like he wanted to cross the net to check the mark, but Jake called out, "It was definitely long, man."
Another round of buzzing distracted Rachel, and this time she saw a message pop up on Quinn's locked phone screen. She tilted her head at the words from 'S', which appeared to be nonsensical at best.
She looked up again when she heard Brody serve and watched the two players engaged in the first genuine rally of their impromptu game. Brody seemed to have forgotten Emma's request not to run Quinn around too much, or he was blatantly ignoring it, because he had Quinn chasing down balls to every corner of the court. On any other surface the sheer force of his shots would have resulted in outright winners but the slower clay gave Quinn the extra milliseconds needed to get to the balls. Rachel was beginning to feel tired from just watching the two slug it out when Brody hit the ball into the net, and yelled out in frustration. The sound felt suspiciously like music to Rachel's ears.
The Brody that sent down the next serve already looked defeated, and Rachel reflected on how it was really the heart and mind that often separated the best from the rest. You would never see a top player giving up until the very last point had been played. In fact, some of the all time greats had played their best tennis to come back from the brink of defeat. It was no surprise when Brody hit another return wide mere seconds later, officially conceding defeat to Quinn.
Rachel watched the two meet at the net and was mildly surprised to see Quinn quickly pat a dejected looking Brody on the back before he turned to walk away. The blonde headed back their way with a smile that morphed into a grin when Marley literally clapped for her. Quinn's phone began buzzing again, and once again, it was 'S'.
Which reminded Rachel; why would the Latina text Quinn asking how the dick measuring was going?
