Rating: no sex, no profanity, no violence, no drugs.
Disclaimer: I like tennis. A lot. However, I don't own any tennis players, tennis courts, tennis tournaments, or tennis equipment except for two rather grungy tennis balls for my dog. This is a fictional representation.
Lindsay leaned against the wall outside the locker room and closed her eyes, waiting for her car.
"Hi," said Justine.
Lindsay's eyes jerked open. "I thought—" Lindsay stopped, confused.
"You thought I lost?" Justine asked, smiling.
Lindsay nodded and frowned. "You did, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"And you're not playing doubles?"
"You checked?"
Lindsay blushed. Justine continued to grin at her, and then stepped closer and looked up at Lindsay.
"You are much taller, so close," Justine said.
Lindsay straightened away from the wall, and leaned toward Justine. "I'm not as tall from the other side of the court?" she said.
"No," Justine replied.
"So, why are you still in London?" Lindsay asked, and brushed some imaginary lint off Justine's shirt.
Justine glanced at Lindsay's hand on her shoulder, and tilted her head. "You are playing Clijsters tomorrow."
"Yeah," Lindsay said, and jammed her hands in her pockets. "Are you going to watch?"
"Yes."
Lindsay nodded, blushing again. She glanced at the drive, then fidgeted with the handles of her racket bag. "So, what's the story with the two of you?"
Justine shrugged. "Many things," she said, and brushed Lindsay's hand away to re-velcro Lindsay's bag closed. Lindsay watched her hands. "Press, nationalism, she is a slut."
"She is not," Lindsay said, appalled.
"No," Justine agreed, and smiled again. "But it makes me feel better to say it."
Lindsay shook her head. "So, I guess since you beat Mary for me, I should beat Kim for you?"
"I think you should."
"We never did go to the beach together," Lindsay said.
Justine cocked an eyebrow at Lindsay. "The beaches in London are not so interesting."
"There are beach—" Lindsay began before noticing Justine's wide grin. "You're teasing me."
Justine grinned. Lindsay grinned back. They stared at each other with wide smiles until Lindsay's car drew up.
Lindsay glanced at it. "We don't have to go to the beach."
Justine stepped back. "You should prepare for your match."
"I need to do that, but I have to eat, don't I?" Lindsay said, and collected her bags. Justine took the last one from her, and they walked to the car together.
The driver opened the trunk, and Lindsay tossed her bags into the car. She turned to Justine, standing next to her. "Would you like to eat together?"
"Yes," Justine replied immediately.
Lindsay smiled and gestured to the car. "Come back to my hotel with me?"
"Yes," Justine repeated.
[Lindsay Davenport beat Kim Clijsters, 6-3, 6-7(4), 6-3, in the round of 16 in the Lawn Tennis Championships at the All England Lawn Tennis Club in Wimbledon, England. Davenport lost in the final match to Venus Williams, 4-6, 7-6(4), 9-7.]