Summer Love (12 page)

THERE'S
something very intriguing about Mitch. He's got dark hair cropped close to his head and surprisingly light blue eyes. So light they look almost silver. And he's clearly interested in you.

You look back at Dex. He's pretty awesome, too. You suppress a tiny laugh thinking about all these handsome tennis-playing boys. When you came out for the weekend, you had no idea this would happen!

You decide that if Dex steps in and refuses to switch partners, you'll stay with him, but if not, you'll switch sides and see what the story is with Mitch.

“So what do you think?” Mila asks. “A partner swap?”

Dex rolls his eyes at her. “I'm cool with whatever. I just want to play.”

“Hey!” you say, slightly bummed. “Clearly I'm not wanted on this side. I'll come play with you, Mitch.”

“I didn't mean that!” Dex says.

“Your loss, man.” Mitch smiles. “Welcome to the sunny side of the court,” he says once you walk around the net and switch places with Mila.

You start playing again, and you realize that this pairing is actually much better. Mitch is a stronger player than his sister, but Dex makes up for Mila's shortcomings on the court. It also seems as if Dex has slowed down his serve slightly, because you're able to return most of them.

You give it your all and play pretty well. Your high school tennis coach would be proud. More than proud, she might actually be impressed. Dex and Mila win the first set. You and Mitch win the second. And now it's the third set, match point, and you're serving.

“Forty–fifteen!” you say.

You toss the ball, stretch your racket just like Dex did, and slam the ball with the perfect combination of power and spin. It whips right by Mila.

“Game, set, match!” Mitch cheers, running over to you. Before you realize what's happening, he lifts you up in the air and spins you around. “So, any chance I can persuade you to stay all summer?” he asks. “It's rare we can find someone who can beat Dex.”

“If she stays, she's mine!” Dex says. “I wasn't
giving away my partner for good.”

You put your hands on your hips. “Oh, I see how it is. You didn't care before, but now that I can beat you, you don't want me playing with Mitch!” You're not actually angry with him, but maybe a little miffed. Especially because of the giving-my-partner-away line, as if you were something he owned and could loan out.

“Oooh, you got her mad now! She's mine for sure.” Mitch holds his hand out to you. “May I interest you in a lemonade before our next match?” The players on court five haven't finished their match yet, so the four of you have some time to kill before playing again.

“Forget lemonade, how about a virgin piña colada at the bar?” Dex asks. “I didn't mean to . . . mean to . . .”

“Make her mad?” Mila offers.

“Exactly!” Dex grins at you, kind of flirty, kind of chagrined.

BEFORE
you can say anything, Dex speaks up. “No way,” he says. “You dance with the girl you came with; it's the gentlemanly thing to do, guys. Besides”—now he's looking right at you—“I came with a pretty spectacular girl. Why would I want someone else to dance with her?”

You can feel yourself blushing, and you look down at your tennis shoes, hoping Dex won't be able to see how pink your cheeks have turned.

“What if she doesn't want to stay partnered with you, man?” Mitch asks, twirling his racket in his hands.

You look up, and then look over at Dex. He's clearly waiting for you to answer. “You dance with the guy you came with,” you tell Mitch. “It's the ladylike thing to do. Besides, I came with a pretty
spectacular guy. Why would I want someone else to dance with him?”

Dex laughs at your echo of his words. “So are we playing?” he asks.

“Fine,” Mila says, “but it's no fun when you know you're going to lose.”

“You never know what's going to happen in tennis,” Dex says, bouncing the ball with his racket. “Ready?”

“Ready,” the twins both say.

You try not to play too aggressively, because Mila is right about games being no fun when one team can really outplay the other, and you can tell Dex is holding back, too. But even with that, you beat them pretty quickly and pretty solidly.

You and Dex head to the net to shake hands with Mitch and Mila.

“I need lemonade,” Mila announces, and heads off the court.

“Ditto,” Mitch says, following his sister.

“Do you want lemonade, too?” Dex asks.

Lemonade actually does sound pretty great—but before you can answer, Dex says, “Wait! I have a better idea. Virgin piña coladas from the bar!”

You smile. That does sound like a better idea.
“Deal,” you say. “We should celebrate our win before we have to play the next match.”

“You got it,” Dex says. He takes your racket and leans it up against the fence on court four with his, and then leads you upstairs.

YOU
look at Dex. He is really cute, and you thought that maybe there was some good chemistry between you, but he also didn't seem to care if he played mixed doubles with you. And the way he talked about giving you away like you were an object was really unappealing.

Then you look at Mitch. You remember what it felt like to have him spin you around. You think about the fact that he wanted to keep you around all summer.

You take the hand Mitch has held out to you and say, “A lemonade sounds quite lovely!”

“Oooh,” Mila says. “Harsh. But I'll go get a virgin piña colada with you, Dex. Just so you don't get too sad.”

Dex concentrates on rewrapping the tape on his
racket's grip. “I think I'll just hang here,” he says, “and fix my racket. But you're welcome to hang with me, Mila.”

“Sure,” she says. “I'll help.”

Leaving the two of them behind, Mitch leads you just off the court to a cooler of lemonade. He fills two plastic cups, hands you one, then perches on the top of the fence. You hop up next to him.

“You're a kick-butt tennis player,” he says, taking a sip of his lemonade.

“Thanks,” you say, after swallowing a sip of yours. “You're good, too.”

He shakes his head. “Not as good as Dex. That kid dominates. At everything. It's kind of infuriating. I've been competing with him for years—tennis, lacrosse, track—he's always number one, and I'm always number two. It kills me.”

You study Mitch for a second. “Well, as far as I'm concerned, you're number one and he's number two today.”

Mitch turns to look at you, and his silver-blue eyes flash in the sunlight.

“Your eyes are incredible,” you tell him. “They make you look superhuman.”

“Oh . . . you mean no one's told you that my sister and I are vampires?” he asks you, with a serious look
on his face. “We're wearing special sunscreen so we don't sparkle.”

You can't help but laugh at that, and with a mouth full of lemonade, some of it comes snorting out of your nose. You quickly swallow the rest and swipe at the liquid dripping down onto your lip. How humiliating! “Oh God,” you say. “I can't believe that just happened! I'm so embarrassed.”

Mitch grabs a paper towel from a stack next to the lemonade cooler. “No need to be embarrassed,” he says, handing you one. “Would it be embarrassing if I told you I thought it was kind of adorable?”

You squint at him. “You think it's adorable when lemonade comes out of someone's nose?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Not anyone's nose. Just your nose. You know, I was trying to figure out how to get you to be my tennis partner ever since I saw you at lunch. I'm glad you gave Mila and me an excuse to suggest it.”

“Your sister was in on this plan?” You can't believe all the prep work he did to get to hang with you.

“My sister's in on all my plans,” he says. “She's a great co-conspirator.”

The way he says it makes you wish that you had a twin brother. “Yeah?” you ask.

“Well, you're here with me now, aren't you?”

You laugh again. This time no lemonade drips out of your nose. “Fair point,” you tell him.

“I do have one more plan I'd like to enact today,” he says, sliding a little closer to you on the fence.

You feel your heart speed up. He's going to kiss you. That has to be his plan. For a split second you wonder if you want him to, but then you decide, Why not? He's nice and funny, and a great athlete, even though he seems to have a weird complex about Dex. But he saw lemonade come out of your nose and still thinks you're cute, so that has to count for something.

“And what plan is that?” you ask, as you feel your palms getting sweaty.

“This one,” he says, closing his eyes as he moves his face toward yours.

You lean forward to meet his mouth, and then close your own eyes.

His lips are softer and smoother than you ex-pected them to be. His hand on the small of your back pulls you in closer. He flicks the tip of his tongue into your mouth for a tiny second, and when it's gone all you can think about is wanting it to come back. You press yourself closer to him and reach one
of your hands up to rub the prickles of his crew cut.

Then you hear someone clear her throat. You and Mitch break apart, and Mila is standing there. “They sent me to tell you guys that the other match is over,” she says. “It's time to play again.”

You look down, a little embarrassed that Mitch's sister just caught the two of you mid–make out, but Mitch doesn't seem to mind. He grabs your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours.

“We'll be right there,” he tells Mila.

She fills her water bottle from the watercooler next to the lemonade and heads back to the court.

“Are you okay?” Mitch asks.

You nod. “More than okay,” you tell him.

“Good,” he whispers. “Then let's win this one so we can celebrate with another kiss.”

“Deal,” you tell him, and squeeze his hand. But as you head back to the court, you wonder how you're going to keep your mind on the game when all you can think about is kissing Mitch.

CONGRATULATIONS!

YOU'VE FOUND YOUR HAPPY
ENDING!