Page 11 of Breakpoint

J az walked into the players’ locker room and tossed her racket bag onto the bench into the organized chaos of the room.

Towels were strewn about, water bottles, energy drinks, protein bars, and discarded athletic tape littered the space.

Open lockers revealed a jumble of tennis rackets, extra clothes, and personal items.

It always annoyed Jaz that the other players didn’t pick up after themselves and left the room a mess. If Jaz was caught being messy or leaving something in disarray, they would say she was disrespecting the game. Or that the black girl from the hood didn’t know any better.

But at the moment, the familiar tingle of victory outweighed her annoyance. She had a little more pep in her step than she would after a match. After crushing Daniela.

Daniela had been so cocky, acting like she won the match after merely winning the first set.

She must have forgotten women’s tennis was the best of three and she had to win two sets.

It was one of the worst things someone could do in tennis, to think that they had the match in the bag until the final point was played.

And let’s be real, Daniela poked the bear.

She must have forgotten that Jaz was known as the machine for a reason and was never out of a match until it was over.

She had the best three-set record out there.

Jaz could see the moment the crack in Daniela’s game happened.

She’d broken Daniela’s serve and ultimately, broken her spirit.

She just played her game of in-your-face tennis.

After that, she could tell Daniela was falling apart and couldn’t stay calm under the pressure of being close to winning a big match.

One of the hardest things to do was close out when the opponent had nothing to lose and play freely. And Daniela obviously couldn’t hack it.

Now, all Jaz wanted was a hot shower and the quiet satisfaction of a well-earned win.

She was already feeling the stinging pain in her lower back and would definitely need treatment if she was going to be able to even walk tomorrow.

She went to peel off her sweat-soaked shirt, but a muffled sob cut through the silence.

Jaz froze. She didn’t think anyone else would still be in here, given that they were the last match of the night. She peered around the corner.

It was Daniela, huddled on the floor, face buried under a towel, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. It was a stark contrast to the fiery and cocky player she had faced on the court just minutes before.

She had made many players cry. She’d seen it herself when she won Grand Slam titles, and the loser would cry openly on center court.

She was used to the thrill of victory, the satisfaction of a hard-earned win, but the sight of Daniela’s raw vulnerability was unsettling.

A pang of something unfamiliar, something akin to guilt, or maybe empathy, pricked at Jaz.

Her last real interaction with Daniela had been before Madrid, where, looking back now, she could be honest that Daniela took a lot of the spotlight off her at the joint press event.

Daniela had the media eating out of her hand.

It was the best press conference she had been a part of, and Kira said, even though she was her normal robot, that they got a lot of good coverage.

With none of the normal hot takes about her personality.

And Daniela had stood up to her and gave her shit when most cowered to Jaz.

It showed she had some fight in her and could hold her own, which Jaz could appreciate and respect.

She definitely wasn’t a wilting flower. Maybe that was why she was feeling this way right now. Because this…this felt different.

Jaz hesitated, but something, a nagging feeling she couldn’t quite name, compelled her forward between the lockers to where Daniela was sitting on the floor.

“Hey,” she said softly, her voice echoing in the cavernous room. Daniela flinched, took the towel off her head, and looked up. Her eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, but obviously surprised to see Jaz standing there. She quickly tried to compose herself, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand.

For the first time, Jaz noticed the green in her eyes, even through tears. They matched her olive skin perfectly. She quickly shook off the thought .

“Look.” Jaz began taking a deep breath and struggling to get the words out because she definitely wasn’t used to this. “That was a tough match. You played well.”

Daniela looked up at her skeptically. Because yes, it sounded hollow, even to her own ears. She felt awkward saying it and well sounded corny.

Dani scoffed, a humorless sound. “Not well enough.”

Jaz sat down beside her, leaving a respectful distance. “You had some really great moments out there. And made it difficult….for a while,” she strained to say.

“I wanted to destroy you.” Daniela blew out. But then her big green eyes looked over at Jaz with expectation. “Do you think I had a chance to really beat you today?”

“No.” Jaz wasn’t going to lie to the girl.

“Fuck.” Dani let out a deprecating laugh.

“But maybe someday.” Jaz wanted to give her some hope. Though she would likely be retired before Daniela was good enough to beat her. She was nothing but confident in her game.

They both sat there in awkward silence on the floor. The only sound was the whirling of the air conditioning system in the locker room. It was Daniela who finally broke the quiet.

“Do you know you ended my mother’s career?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Jaz looked at her in disbelief. “What?”

“The last match she ever played was a loss to you? I was six and I still remember how badly you crushed her.” Daniela looked straight ahead, and Jaz wouldn’t have believed the words coming out of her mouth if she weren’t watching her lips move .

Jaz sucked in a sharp breath. She didn’t even remember the match.

She remembered playing Brittany Kappas a few times years ago when she was first on tour.

God, that made her feel so fucking old that she was on tour when Daniela was a child.

But she’d played so many matches since then that she didn’t really remember all the details of every single one.

“Honestly, I didn’t know that. And I don’t really recall it or knew it was her last match,” Jaz whispered, suddenly feeling recalcitrant.

This was new territory. Jaz wasn’t used to having to deal with personal and emotional things with the other players on tour.

She didn’t spend time with other players off the court.

They were competitors with the goal to destroy each other at every turn.

But she had spent time with Daniela. More than any player in the last decade, and even though she annoyed the hell out of her, Daniela was a good tennis player.

She appreciated that she was direct and always kept it real with Jaz.

She didn’t bow down to Jaz like most people around her did.

Daniela continued, “I mean, why would you remember? But I just don’t want that to be the last memories people have of the Kappas name on the big stage. A loss. I want this. I want it so fucking bad.” Dani slammed her hand against the locker behind her.

Jaz could see the fire in Daniela’s eyes.

That this wasn’t just a game or novelty for her to be famous.

It was the same fire that she often had herself, the burning desire to win at all costs that mirrored her own relentless hunger.

Her respect for Daniela grew in that moment, because anyone who wanted it as much as Jaz would do anything to be great .

Jaz pressed on, driven by a sudden, inexplicable urge to bridge the gap between them.

“Listen, I know we’re not exactly…buddies, but we will be partners soon, and I saw something in you out there today.

A fire. You just need to harness it.” And it pained her to admit, but she needed Dani to rise to the occasion if they were going to win the Olympics.

She paused, then took the plunge. “Maybe…maybe we could train together for a bit before the Olympics? I could show you a few things, work on your forehand, maybe your serve. What do you say?”

Daniela’s brows shot up in disbelief. Her tear-stained face contorted into an expression of skepticism, her lips parting in a silent question. “Train together?” she finally said, her voice hoarse. “Why? Why are you being so…so decent to me? It’s not like you.”

“You don’t know me,” Jaz shot back quickly.

Daniela raised a beautifully sculpted left eyebrow at her clapback. “Fair, but why are you volunteering to work together with me before the Olympics?”

“Let's be clear, this is not me being nice. I have my own selfish reasons. You’re going to be my doubles partner for the Olympics soon, one of the most important tournaments left in my career. I need you at your best and most confident. Can’t have us going out in the first round.

” Jaz nodded, trying to make it make sense in her own head.

She held out her hand, a silent invitation. Daniela stared at it for a long moment, then slowly, hesitantly, reached out and shook it. The touch was brief, but Jaz felt a zap of intensity. Huh?

“But do NOT be late,” Jaz commanded. “It’s my pet peeve.”

Daniela at least had the nerve to look sheepish about her lateness, but she smiled and nodded, nonetheless. “Okay.”

The humid Florida air hung thick and heavy, clinging to Jaz like a second skin.

Each breath was a conscious effort, a reminder of the grueling pace she was forcing herself through.

But she loved it. She felt it gave her an advantage on her fitness, even though her left knee was throbbing, but if she could play in the Florida heat and humidity in June for hours on end, then a three-set match would be nothing.