Part 5 (1/2)

Love you, Dylan wanted to shout. But instead she said a quick goodbye and bounced off to Private Court One, where Svetlana was probably pace-waiting for her.

”You are three-and-one-half-minutes late.” Svetlana tossed a fuzzy yellow ball in the air and slammed it onto the red clay court with her racket. Her blond braid whipped against her T-back tank, and the pleats on her teeny-tiny kick-skirt opened and shut accordion style. ”How are you going to be pro if so lazy? And why so colorful? This is not circus.”

But Dylan was unsinkable. Her crush was starting to crush back. And that's what really mattered.

”I was with J.T!” She twirled, scuffing the dusty clay.

”Good. So we are done. Give me phone and I will erase.” She held out her callused palm and wiggled her fingers.

Dylan jumped back. ”Not a chance. I may have the look down but I still have a lot to learn. We're going to a match tomorrow and I need to know-”

”The junior club champion Brady Erickson?” Svetlana smashed another ball, narrowly missing a sparrow soaring overhead.

”Yup.” Dylan twirled again, loving the feeling of the Hawaiian sun on her face. ”He asked me.”

”Dressed like that that?” Svetlana snickered.

Yes!” Dylan felt a surge of anger. Dylan felt a surge of anger.

”Hardtobelieve,” Svetlana mumbled. ”Now, let's start.”

Svetlana stomped toward the center of the court, suddenly all business. ”This is net.” She whacked the black mesh with the side of her Wilson.

”Nyet?” Dylan giggled. Dylan giggled.

Svetlana rolled her blue-green eyes.

”And this is tennis court.” Svetlana kicked the clay. ”This is baseline. This is ball.”

”Got it. Now let's move on to the advanced stuff.” Dylan squatted over the baseline, bent her knees, and wiggled her b.u.t.t. ”Serve it up!”

”Oh-kay.” Svetlana jogged to the other side. She arched her back, threw the ball into the air, and swung. ”Huuu-waugh!”

Dylan squeezed her eyes shut and waved her racket wildly in all directions. To her surprise, she made contact. Only, it felt like she had slammed into a speeding Hummer.

”Owie!” She opened her eyes, then wiggled her arm to make sure it was still attached. The clay around her was littered with red crystals.

”Whoops!” Svetlana smiled, not looking the least bit sorry. She took another ball out of her pocket and rocked back and forth on her heels, preparing to serve.

”Wait! Stop.” Dylan tried to lift her palm, but her shoulder rang out in pain. ”I'm injured.”

”You've only hit one ball.” Svetlana lowered her racket.

Dylan feebly pulled her blackmail LG from the teeny-tiny pocket sewn into her colorful wrap dress as she stumbled over to the sideline. ”Get me a ma.s.seuse, aysap!”

Svetlana released the ball. It rolled to the side of the court and slammed up against the cool metal chain-link fence.

Just like Dylan.

KAPALUA SPA AND TENNIS CLUB.

SVETLANA'S PRIVATE COURT Wednesday, July 1 11 A.M.

Dylan finally found the strength she needed to stand. She smoothed her skirt and caught a flattering glimpse of her toned quads. Amazing how quickly they were responding to her tennis training.

The Hawaiian sun reflected off the clay and into her green eyes. For a moment she couldn't see across the court, but she could hear the ball whizzing toward her. She stepped back, pivoted right, pulled her glittering racket back, and swung. Swoos.h.!.+ Swoos.h.!.+ The ball glided effortlessly over the net as she completed her gazelle-like follow-through. The ball glided effortlessly over the net as she completed her gazelle-like follow-through.

”Brilliant shot!” a male voice called.

Male voice? Where was Svetlana?

A cloud pa.s.sed in front of the glaring sun. Dylan could see clearly now.

The voice belonged to J.T. His dimples deepened as he grinned in respect.

Dylan smiled her thanks. She popped a ball out of her dress pocket and whipped out her best serve. The ball shot to the exact spot that she'd hoped. Ace! Ace!

J.T. returned it with a grunt, and they rallied back and forth, trading break points. The game was heating up, yet Dylan remained remarkably cool. Just before she could serve for match point, J.T. dropped his racket and bounded over the net.

”You know this is my side of the court, right?” Dylan teased, her heart beating like a hummingbird's. What was J.T. doing?

”No, I'm pretty sure it's mine.” He closed the gap between them, the tips of his Nikes touching her Mint Chocolate Chips.

Ehmagawd!

He leaned closer. Then closer . . . then . . . his Gatorade-soaked lips touched hers.

Her first lip-kiss tasted like a melted Creamsicle, just like she'd always imagined.

The next thing she knew, she and J.T. were walking on the beach drinking virgin Blue Hawaiis with little pink umbrellas and plastic monkeys that hung from the lips of the gla.s.ses by their curly brown tails. They crisscrossed arms and drank from each other's straws. Then, with no warning at all, a huge burp blasted forth from Dylan's glossy mouth.

J.T. spit out his straw.

”Ehmagawd, please pretend you didn't hear that,” she blush-begged, contemplating diving into the surging ocean to hide her shame.

”I can't.” He stepped back.

”No! J.T., wait!” Dylan felt her Blue Hawaii inching back up her throat. She couldn't stand losing another crush to her mouth gas.

”Eccccccchhhhhhh,” J.T. belched.

Dylan burst out laughing, then burped again gleefully. He thought it was funny! ”JAAAYYYY TEEEEEE!”

”DYYYYYY-LAAAAAAN.” He doubled over in hysterics.

Dylan dropped to the sand and rolled around clutching her abs, which were becoming tighter and tighter by the second.

”You're so awesome.” He pushed his brown highlights away from his eyes. ”I can't believe it took me two whole days to realize it. I was so wrapped up in tennis I didn't realize my perfect match was right here in front of me.”