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“Do you promise? Because I want the extra dipping sauce,” I say, already feeling the phantom crunch of a fry.

He nods and drops onto the edge of the blanket and starts passing out the food. I eye Zoe’s burger longingly as she unwraps it. The melted cheese mocks me, but I know Theo is right. I need fuel that won’t sit like a lead weight in my stomach. Reluctantly, I take a bite of my bland turkey sandwich.

“I have a question for you,” I say, turning to face Theo. “How did we not know that you’re a world-famous roller-coaster designer? I had to hear it from the Neptune Bay team.”

“I can’t take the credit,” he says immediately, his eyes dropping to his burger. “It’s my team. They’re the best in the industry.”

I smile to myself. That’s such a Theo answer.

He clears his throat and changing the subject asks, “What happened at Lina’s while I was in London? I heard it was busy.”

Zoe snorts. “That is the understatement of the century.”

My second-round match begins at two-thirty. I’m up against Gina Low, a sixteen-year-old from Tampa Bay. As we warm up, her coach, who also happens to be her father, calls her over after every other rally, whispering what adjustments she should make.

I almost feel a pang of pity for her. The keyword here is almost. Because despite the helicopter parenting, Gina is a machine. Her shots are deadly accurate, already forcing me to cover more ground than I want to. In a couple years, she’ll be a top-ten player for sure. But today, she’s just the person standing between me and the final qualifying round.

Our first four games are a stalemate. We both hold serve.

But in the fifth game, the switch flips. Gina starts playing with complete conviction. There’s no hesitation or second-guessing in anything she does.

Every time I claw my way back into a rally, she slams the door shut. No matter how hard I fight, frustration gets the better of me, and I drop the first set 7–5.

As I limp back to my bench to regroup, my lungs are burning, and my ankle is screaming at me. I plop down with the grace of a hippo and drape a cold towel over my neck.

I stare down at my sneakers. Maybe the win against Elena was just a fluke. Nothing I’m doing is working. Gina is faster, stronger, and ten years younger.

Rationally, I know twenty-six isn’t old, but when your ankle is throbbing and a teenager is running circles around you, it starts to feel that way.

I look down at the thick layers of tape on said ankle. My out is right there. I could withdraw from the match with an injury and be done with it. Nobody would blame me. Which is why the thought of it makes me sick.

“Katie.” Theo’s voice cuts through the drone of the crowd.

I stand up and walk over to the railing. I’ve never been more grateful for his presence.

“Stop playing old-lady tennis and being on the defensive. It’s not working. You need to attack. Find that fire you played with last match. Nobody can touch you when you’re burning that brightly.”

I look at him. Really look at him. He isn’t just talking about court strategy. He’s reminding me who I am. The girl who used to sit with her nose an inch from the TV watching Alexander Georgiou play. The girl who used to beg her parents for five more minutes on the court because she couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

The truth settles over me with startling clarity.

I never stopped loving tennis. I just stopped giving it all of me. I broke the promise I made to myself the day Dad told me why we’d moved here—to commit completely.

I take a deep breath.

This ends now. Theo is right. No more playing not to lose. I’m choosing to play to win.

“Okay,” I say.

Theo bumps his fist against mine, and I walk back to the baseline.

Time to attack.

Gina opens the second set blasting a ball at my feet. Instead of trying to overpower her, I make her move. I slice. I lob. I drop shot. Every rally becomes a puzzle instead of a slugfest.

That’s how the set unfolds. I play ugly, gritty tennis, using every shot in my arsenal to neutralize her power. By the time we reach 6-6, the sun hangs low, bathing the court in a warm golden glow.

It all comes down to a tiebreaker. The first to seven by a margin of two.