Page 88 of Heart Match

Thea searches for Wimbledon’s address on the Navi.

‘Traffic doesn’t look good, guys,’ she says.

‘I figured,’ I say, my heart racing inside my chest.

Nate speeds through lights in every colour and doesn’t seem to mind getting a ticket or crashing. He also ignores all the honks. On a normal day I’d curse at him for driving like this, but right now I’m grateful.

With my arms propped on both front seats, I keep my eyes peeled to find the black BMW. I can barely breathe with the adrenaline. I’m doing all this and I don’t even know if he’ll listen to me, if it will make a difference. The way he looked at me before getting in the car didn’t seem promising. My stomach stirs with the thought of our conversation yesterday.

We turn on a few streets until we make it to the main road that leads to Wimbledon. It isn’t far from my flat, but traffic on a finals day makes up for the short distance. Nate changes lines a few times and that’s when I see them, far ahead, doing just the same. Hope makes its appearance.

‘There! They’re on the right side,’ I say, pointing.

‘Shit. They’re gonna make it there before we do, Livvy. The traffic’s too slow,’ says Nate.

And that’s exactly what happens. The line has been divided, cars on the left are being let inside, past the barrier to a restricted area, others stay on the right line moving only inches forward. That’s when we lose them, as the car has turned into the reserved area.

Fuck.

Thea and Nate look back at me and I know what their stares are telling me.

I have to run. Literally. I don’t even think twice before opening the door and stepping out of the car.

‘Good luck Livvy,’ shouts Thea.

‘Good luck sis,’ says Nate.

I think I’m gonna need more than luck, because maybe running in heels and wearing a flowing dress isn’t the brightest idea, but it will have to do.

People watch me as I dash through the lines of cars. I don’t even make it 50 meters before giving up on my heels and taking them off. I now am running barefooted on the road like a mad woman. How did I get here?

I make it to the restricted entrance where the BMW drove into. There is security, of course. I do my best to be discreet as I try to do the craziest thing I’ve ever attempted to—duck unnoticed into the VIP area.

‘Miss,’ says the guard.

I pretend I haven’t heard her and keep going, holding my heels in my hands. I just need to make it to the black BMW and talk to Luc’s parents, I can see them from here.

‘Hey, miss. Where do you think you’re going?’

I run. I actually run from the guard. I don’t even look back. Before I can celebrate my success, I bump into another guard a few steps ahead.

‘Please, I just need to talk to them,’ I say, pointing at the car.

The guard gives me a once over and fixes his gaze on my dirty feet.

‘I’m sorry miss. If you don’t have a badge, I can’t let you in,’ he says, politely.

Shit.

Still not accepting defeat I try shouting Dom’s and Anette’s names, but they aren’t close enough to hear me, and it’s useless anyways, they’re inside the car. They keep moving ahead. Then I can’t see them anymore.

I have no idea how I’m going to make it inside without a pass.

Chapter Twenty-Six

I find myself surrounded by thousands of people in front of an enormous outdoor screen. Everyone’s waiting for the match to start, splayed on the grass or steps of the famous Henman Hill. Here’s where Dad used to come to watch the matches he didn’t get tickets to. I wonder what he’d say seeing me here right now.

In less than an hour Luc’s going to step on the Centre Court and I have no way to make it to the player box. The only chance I have is if he responds to the text I sent him a few minutes ago after being kicked out of the restricted area. But I don’t think Luc’s worried about his phone right now.

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