Chapter Text
Chapter 2
Andy was distracted. She never got distracted. Not anymore. Not after reaching the dizzying heights of the top ten.
It was ridiculous how easy it was for her mind to stumble into anything other than the game and it was taking way too much willpower to keep it on the task in hand.
She bounced the ball and rolled her shoulders, focusing on each soft thwack it made on the grass court before tossing it high, her eyes never leaving it; the centre of her racket making contact as she served.
“Out.”
“Second serve.”
‘Come on Andy. Get it together.’
Kenin, one of her fellow American players, inched inside the baseline fully expecting her to make a shallower placement; a sensible play at 30-30.
Four strong bounces, a streak of sweat trickling down the inside of her arm as she aimed for the far side.
“Let. Second serve.” The umpire announced; the ball just clipping the top of the net but landing in the service box.
Andy took a moment, palming a couple of tennis balls around in her hand before discarding one back to the ball girl, counting out her four regimented bounces followed by her signature arching serve.
“Out!” The linesman called.
She couldn’t help the sharp inhale of breath or the sting of frustration that clutched at her ribcage as she walked to the opposite corner of the court to set up the next point. To save a break point.
“30-40.”
There was a rumbling from the crowd, a couple of fans shouting her name in support, but she pushed the sound away in favour of the thumps of the ball, each one bringing her closer to the punch she intended to deliver.
The ball toss was right, the angle of her racket deceiving as she hit a clean, fast shot down the centre line; Kenin not managing to connect at all.
Definitely the right moment to hit an ace.
“Deuce.”
She needed to hold at four games all. Her opponent had a solid serve so there was no guarantee of easy breaks and tie break situations. Whilst her stats were high for winning tie breakers, it was not her preference on how to win a match.
What she wanted more than anything was the laser-sharp focus she was renowned for, but it was languishing at the back of her skull like a surly teenager she couldn’t wrangle out of bed.
Bounce.
Bounce.
Bounce.
Bounce.
Miranda.
Miranda.
Miranda.
Miranda.
“Out!”
“Fuck.” She hissed, irritation clinging to the inside of her mouth as she prepared her second serve.
And it was a strong one, Kenin returning the ball cross court straight to Andy’s forehand and a blistering shot right on the chalked tramline.
The applause was rapturous, and she glanced up at her box, her team fully engaged; her coach tapping the side of his head in a silent demonstration of what she needed to do.
“Advantage Sachs.”
She drew in a long inhale of breath as she once again selected which ball to use, feeling her pulse thrumming in her neck and her muscles primed and prepped to bring the game home.
The first serve landed, quick and sure to Kenin’s backhand and a sliced return. Andy moved forward, striking the ball back across court, keeping her opponent on the baseline as she continued momentum. She was ready for the next play, her racket angled perfectly for the light chip she placed on the ball, her wrist taking the bulk of the speed as it dropped neatly over the net, giving no time for Kenin to reach it.
“Game, Sachs. Sachs leads five games to four, first set.”
Andy had held her serve. Barely.
She made her way back to her bench and took a moment to towel off and rehydrate, her knee jumping up and down as it was apt to do in the brief respites before change of ends.
‘Miranda.’
She had told herself not to look up at the Royal Box during play. It wasn’t something she had ever really paid attention to until a match had been played and won. This one was different however, because she really wanted to catch sight of two sweet ginger-haired twins and their iconically beautiful mother; a woman who she had not been able to stop thinking about since their paths had crossed barely a day ago.
“Ridiculous.” She muttered, taking a bite of a banana and another swig of water, aware that her valuable seconds of rest were rapidly running out.
“Time.”
The sound of the umpire had her springing onto her feet, a few jumps, kicking her heels up to the backs of her legs before grabbing her racket.
‘You’ve got this. Push each point. Add the pressure for the break and the set.’ She coached, jogging across into position.
The next few minutes flew by and Andy managed to press the advantage earning herself a set point.
She twirled her racket around in her hands, her body low and primed ready for Kenin’s serve; a rather powerful shot to her backhand that she struck back just as hard, pushing through and charging the net.
Kenin’s racket hit the ball, aiming for a passing shot across Andy’s right side, but Andy was already in place, connecting quickly and decisively. She took the speed and punched it straight back over the net, Kenin’s only play, an attempted lob. Andy swiped her racket for an overhead smash to the back of the court. The set was hers.
“Come on!” She yelled, pumping herself up as the umpire announced the win; the noise of the crowd stoking the fire in her stomach.
Her gaze rose to the box as she walked back to her chair; her eyes finding the twins on their feet clapping. Andy couldn’t hold back a smile, nor could she stop the tremble in her chest when Miranda came into view seated beside them, also applauding.
It felt so raw, so visceral the need that was building inside her. Had it ever felt that way before with any other woman she had been attracted to? Andy didn’t believe so. And she had certainly never had an immediate desire like the one burning inside her veins. It was almost too much.
Miranda was whirling around her brain and crashing against the inside of her skull instead of her game. Carnal thoughts of the woman’s fingers threaded through Andy’s hair, scraping at her scalp whilst Andy licked her to completion, most definitely shouldn’t be the only clear ones she was having.
She ripped her gaze away, reluctantly dragging her attention to the player’s box and to Lily, her childhood best friend and manager. Discussions were being held, glances in her direction; mouthed instructions and gestures telling her to push and to play. To focus on her serve and stay present. Nothing Andy didn’t know already. She had gotten a little lucky during that set, her A-game anywhere but on Centre Court.
“Focus. Focus Andy.” She murmured, knowing that time was ticking by too quickly. “Fuck she looks good.” Andy groaned into her towel, before depositing it on the chair beside her and taking two long sips of juice and a bite of banana. “Get in the game Sachs.”
“Time.”
She glanced back over at Lily, watched the repetitive nod of her head and could imagine the determined look of belief shining from her deep, brown eyes. With a nod of acknowledgement, Andy grabbed her racket and strode back onto the grass to open the set.
**********************************************************************************
“Andy wasn’t playing her best today.” Cassidy stated as they slipped from the stands.
“But she pulled it together.”
“Yeah, but it should have been an easier win than 6-4, 6-4.”
“She looked a bit distracted.” Caroline agreed. “Maybe the later start time played a part in it, I mean no one expected that five-setter beforehand.”
Miranda idly chewed her bottom lip, not a habit she was particularly prone to and yet she was having to stop herself from doing it.
Tennis was a game she was trying to understand better. To enjoy watching. But it didn’t take an expert to see that Andrea had indeed been preoccupied during the match, her girls were right. The first set had seemed to be much more of an effort and Miranda couldn’t help wondering if the world number 1 had entertained any thoughts of her since their brief meeting.
‘Foolish woman.’ She chided.
“What did you think Mom?” Cassidy said, her voice bringing Miranda back to the moment.
“About what Bobbsey?”
“Andy’s game.”
“Well, I’m not an expert and this was only the second match I have watched...” She began, her fingers wrapping a little tighter around the strap of her Burberry handbag. “...so I don’t believe I am the right person to ask.”
“Hmm.” Her youngest hummed.
“Maybe we can ask her tomorrow when we get to see her practice.” Caroline mused.
“You’ll do nothing of the sort!” Miranda chided. “That’s deeply personal and highly inappropriate.”
The twins went uncharacteristically quiet, and she considered if she had driven her point home harder than was absolutely necessary.
‘Tomorrow.’
The word seemed to ricochet around her mind as they made their way through the venue, a slight chill to the evening air that made her pleased she had worn a Hermes scarf. Tomorrow would bring about another meeting with Andrea. Conversation perhaps and maybe a touch of the girl’s warm hand on Miranda’s skin.
An involuntary shiver cracked down her spine at the very thought of it. Try as she might, she simply could not undo whatever witchcraft Andrea had placed on her.
“Have you heard from Andy?” Cassidy asked rather carefully as they exited through the turnstiles.
“Not yet Bobbsey.” Miranda breathed; a trickle of panic tickling her insides at the prospect of Andrea not contacting her at all.
“You have her number though. So, you could always message her, right?”
“I...I do, yes, as well you know.”
“So...”
She sighed deeply, the beginnings of a headache pinching at her temples.
“So, nothing Bobbsey. We will wait and see what happens.”
“But what if she forgets?” Cassidy whined. “And we turn up and can’t get in.”
“She won’t forget.” Caroline chimed in firmly. “I just know she won’t.”
Miranda couldn’t help but smile at her eldest daughter and her unwavering belief in people. She hoped that life wouldn’t disappoint and jade her as much as Miranda’s had.
“I’m sure you’re right Caroline. Andrea seems to be a...a...well, that is to say a...a very genuine young woman.” She managed to stammer, her eyes rolling up to the heavens at how easily distracted the tennis star made her.
“I agree.”
“I hope you’re right.” Cassidy huffed.
So did Miranda. More than she would care to admit.
**********************************************************************************
“What was that today?” Lily hissed, as Andy’s coach bid them both a good night; the sound of the suite’s door closing with a reassuring clunk.
“I don’t know what you mean.” Andy replied, averting her gaze.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Pete said it himself Andy. You were distracted. That first set could have meant an upset for you.”
“I’ve come back from a fucking break before Lils.” She huffed, finishing off her glass of electrolyte replenishment.
“Yeah, you have, but that’s when you’ve been outplayed Andy. Today your head simply wasn’t in the game. Is everything alright? I...I know it’s coming up to the anniversary again, but...”
“It’s got nothing to do with that, I promise.” She assured, not wanting the conversation to drift towards her parents; a backstory she had learned how to manage for the most part.
“Ok, well I’ll leave it there then. Needless to say, it’s not just my job that makes me worry about you.”
Andy met Lily’s gaze and smiled. Sometimes it was easy to forget how long they had known one another; that Lily had been her confident much longer than being her exceptionally brilliant manager.
“I know, I...” She paused, rolling her eyes up to the ceiling as she considered what to say. “I met someone.”
“Who, when and where?” Lily questioned furrowing her brow. “Do I need to get ahead of a story?”
“No, no. Nothing like that. We’re not...I mean...fuck. It probably won’t ever come to anything anyway.”
And that was the sad truth of the matter. Much as she’d like to believe that she’d shared a moment with the achingly beautiful woman, Andy knew the likelihood of it coming to anything was a slim one. There was something of the unobtainable about Miranda. Maybe that was the reason she wouldn’t leave Andy’s thoughts.
Her past lovers had all been eager and available; suitable paramours to serve up to the public and wonderful enough women that she could sustain a relationship with them, at least on the surface. Jessie, her most recent ex, she had been with the longest and the tabloids had eaten them up as a power couple. Their lives were busy; touring part and parcel of both their careers, but the singer had attended as many matches as she’d been able to, and Andy had appreciated the support.
In the end however, she had not been able to commit. It hadn’t been because of a need for freedom, or another woman turning Andy’s head. It was the same story no matter who she was with. Love. It simply had never been there for her. An elusive and unreachable emotion that she had yet to experience with someone.
She’d loved her parents, loved them still within the grief she had learned to box away. And she loved Lily, her only constant in a world of change and transience. Of transaction and fame. But she hadn’t been able to fall in love, not even with Jessie. There just wasn’t that blinding ‘aha’ moment; that breathlessness where heart and mind collide, and you cannot seem to think about anything else but that person. That cord that suddenly pulls so tight between two souls that you think you might die if it ever broke.
Her father had referred to it as the ‘lightning principle’ when Andy had curled up beside him one day as a child and had asked what it meant to fall in love. He had described meeting her mother at a grocery store, a fleeting moment in time where two people were in the right place at the right time; how when their eyes had met, his chest had swelled, and his mind glowed with the light of a thousand suns. ‘And there she was Andy, and I knew, I just knew she was mine and I was hers.’
Andy swallowed thickly before sucking in a burning breath to stave off tears. Was that what was happening?
“Andy?” Lily asked tenderly.
“I’m alright. I just...I disappeared for a moment, that’s all.” She replied with a thin smile. “You don’t need to do anything, but I do need some passes for my closed practice tomorrow.”
“That’s fine of course, but am I to assume that one of these is for your mystery woman?”
“She’s hardly my mystery woman.” She snorted, trying desperately to brush her feelings aside until she could begin to sift through them on her own. “But yes. One of them is for her, the other two for her daughters.”
“Wait.” Lily replied, raising her pointer finger. “The two twin girls who you met yesterday. The redheads?”
“Yeah. Caroline and Cassidy.”
“Their mother being Miranda Priestly?” Andy nodded, feeling a shimmer of heat spreading across her cheekbones. “Who was also at today’s match.”
“Yes.”
“And she’s the one you...fuck, Andy. You mean to tell me you didn’t know who she was?”
“No. And she wasn’t previously aware of me either, which was...actually pretty great to be honest.”
“She’s a big deal in the fashion world. If she doesn’t approve it, the likelihood is that it’ll never see the light of day. She’s loved and loathed in equal measure.”
“I don’t know anything about that, except when I mentioned Vogue she sounded rather pissed.” Andy chuckled, recalling the pinched expression on Miranda’s lips; lips she was still yearning to kiss.
“Oh, that’ll have done it.” Lily snorted, before her features hardened a little, her tone serious. “She’s also painfully straight and old enough to be your mother.”
Andy dragged in a measured breath and nodded.
“Maybe, but whatever she is or isn’t, I’d just like the passes to be granted for her and the twins.”
“She’s not your usual type either.” Lily continued, seemingly oblivious to Andy’s need to crush the conversation. “You’ve never had a thing for older women before.”
“I have actually. Always in fact. I’ve just never had the pleasure of dating one.”
“Exactly. I mean look at your track record Andy. Young, fit, feminine and your own age.”
“So what?”
“Is this…fuck. I can’t believe I’m even considering asking you this, but…is this some sort of…I don’t know, like…like a mother replacement kinda thing?”
“Really Lily? What the fuck!” Andy raged, storming across the room and staring out across the city; her clipped fingernails clawing at the skin of her palms.
“Look, I’m sorry okay? But I had to ask. It’s my job to ask.”
“Yeah, your job. How could I forget.” She growled.
“That’s not fair Andy. I love you. I’ve loved you since we were seven. I asked because it’s what a best friend does. They ask the tough questions because it’s their job to. Because they walk the hard path through thick and fucking thin. Because I don’t want you losing your heart for the first time in your life to someone emotionally and physically unavailable.”
“Right.” Andy replied hollowly, her ire still rankling, though her heart burned with the truth of what Lily was saying.
“But I am sorry. I mean, like you’ve already said, it’s unlikely this is mutual so just ignore the past couple of minutes. You have practice tomorrow and your next match to focus on. You rely on the crowd, but you’re facing a Brit this time so don’t expect that same level of support. Pete has two matches he wants you to review tonight, focusing specifically on Boulter’s serve and backhand.”
“Fine, yes.”
“She’s not won against you yet, but you need to...”
“Yes, yes. I get it.” Andy spat, heading for her laptop and loading up her message from her coach.
“Andy, I...”
“I’ll see you tomorrow Lily.”
She heard her friend exhale and gather her things, but Andy couldn’t bring herself to look at her. To offer a platitude or a smile of reassurance. She felt exhausted, the mention of Miranda and then her family leaving her raw and exposed. She craved solitude and the focus that tennis had always managed to provide for her; a way of stealing her mind away from nebulous thoughts and darker urges.
“Goodnight Andy.”
The sound of the door was a relief, her shoulders dropping as she sank back on the settee, pulling her laptop with her, balancing it on her knee as her gaze fell on Katie’s Boulter warming up before the game began. An experienced player and often one that caused upsets in tournaments, Andy knew never to underestimate or underprepare, but an hour into the first video she realised she hadn’t been paying attention at all.
Exasperated, she shut the lid and spent twenty minutes going through a serious of stretches and reps, finishing up beneath the soothing stream of the shower and fresh bedwear.
Restlessness continued to prickle beneath her skin, her nails lightly scratching along her forearms as she channel hopped, the light from the muted tv the only one in the room; shadows yawning across the space with only her thoughts filling the silence.
And oh, how busy those thoughts had become.
“Miranda.” Andy said with a groan. That name and the woman it belonged to, had fast become a mantra, her breathing already falling out of kilter when she remembered she’d be seeing her again.
She located her phone and scrolled through her contacts, opening a new chat and typing out a message.
Andy: Apologies for the late hour, but I have arranged passes for the three of you if you’re still interested.
Andy stared down at the screen, her teeth biting into the skin around her thumbnail, Miranda’s status changing to ‘online.’
“What if she’s not? Fuck.” She huffed, her stomach rolling over itself as she noted ‘typing’ appeared below Miranda’s name.
Miranda: It is a very generous offer. My daughters have talked about very little else.
She grinned, her pulse thumping harder as she typed, unable to stop the flirtatious nature of her reply.
Andy: Just your daughters?
Andy almost dropped her phone when it started ringing, her hand shaking as she hit the green button and lifted it to her ear.
“Hi.” She said, her tone a tad higher than usual. She cleared her throat and starting again. “Hi.”
“Hello.”
She hadn’t had time to prepare herself for the sound of Miranda’s voice and the way it tickled her insides, her usual confidence trickling away like sand in an hourglass.
“Hi.”
‘Fuck!’
“I believe introductions have been adequately made.”
“Yes. Yes of course, I er...I apologise for contacting you so late.”
“Apologies you have already extended.”
“I, er...yes. I did. Right.” Andy couldn’t be certain, but she thought she detected a low chuckle through the receiver.
“And it was me that called you after all.”
“True, I...I don’t tend to do much more than text.”
“I suppose I am rather old fashioned then.” Miranda purred; Andy’s pulse thrumming in her wrists and neck as she settled backs against the sofa cushions.
“No, I...I like that you called.”
“Oh, well then...I’m...I’m very glad I did.”
A few heartbeats of silence transpired, and she wondered if Miranda could hear the unsteady breaths leaving her lungs or the huge smile she wore courtesy of the older woman’s slight slip of control.
“So...the passes.” Andy husked, keen to move them past any initial awkwardness.
“Yes. The passes.” Miranda murmured.
“They’ll be waiting for you at the gate, or I can get Lily to leave them at the reception of your hotel if that’s more convenient?”
There was a shuffling and rustling on the other side of the line that made Andy’s mind conjure up an imagine of Miranda tucked in bed in something silky.
‘Not helping.’ She chastised herself, waiting for a response.
“Lily?” Miranda asked.
“My manager and childhood friend.”
“Ah. Of course.” Andy couldn’t help but hear a sense of relief peppering Miranda’s words. At least that’s what her errant heart was telling her, but as it was a completely redundant organ save for doing its actual job most admirably, she tried not to dwell on it as Miranda continued. “It’s very kind of you. My daughters are really looking forward to it.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” She answered, her need to tease slipping to the forefront. “But are you Miranda? Are you looking forward to helping me practice?”
A pause, some further rustling sounds and a small creak that had Andy biting her bottom lip hard.
“I do believe my talents lie elsewhere Andrea.”
It was all Andy could do not to groan, the weight of her name dropping through the centre of her body and landing squarely at her core; a wet heat starting to radiate.
“I…I erm…well, I did have a witty and flirtatious retort for what I expected you might say, but...but you seem to have rendered me rather speechless.”
“And how pray tell did I manage that?”
“You used my full name. No one does that.”
“It was very clearly printed on the scoreboard.”
“True, but everyone just calls me Andy. I prefer it that way.”
“I see. Well, I confess I struggle with abbreviations at the best of times and find myself unsure as to how to proceed, given my predilection for full names and your insistence on shortening your rather beautiful one.”
“Call me it.” Andrea said rather desperately.
“I…I’m sorry?”
“Call me it again.” She repeated.
She heard the sharp gasp in her ear followed by a tremulous series of harried breaths, as her blood rushed hot and thick through her veins.
She worried that she may have tipped them both too quickly over the edge; that she might just have lost whatever remote chance there was, that Miranda might be interested in her. It was reckless. Dangerous. It was...
“Andrea.” Miranda all but sighed and Andy dropped the phone.
“F…fuck.” She stammered, her fingers scrabbling to retrieve it; her mouth flapping open and closed as she scrambled for what to say. “I...that’s er...it’s...I...”
“You...?”
“I...I like the way you say it.” She finally admitted.
“Then it’s settled.” Miranda hummed.
Andy could hear the satisfied smile she was picturing on lips she was beyond eager to kiss, pondering if the palpitations in her chest were something she should be concerned about.
“Ok.”
“Good.”
“You...you didn’t answer my question, about the er...the passes.”
Another brief moment of silence stretched between them and Andy took the opportunity to shut off the tv and pad barefoot into the bedroom.
“I do believe that reception might be the easiest for all of us.”
“Oh?”
“As we’re staying in the same hotel.”
Andy’s heart skittered to a thumping halt, slamming into her ribcage at the knowledge that they were both residing under the same roof; a sudden need to explore the entire building and bang on every suite and overpriced room until Miranda opened her door.
“What number?” She asked carelessly, blurting out her question with a breathless growl.
“I’m a little too old for midnight assignations don’t you think?”
“I disagree wholeheartedly.”
Miranda’s laugh was genuine and gentle, and Andy couldn’t help the grin that spread across her features on hearing it; already wanting to hear it again.
“Whilst your confidence in my...abilities has been duly noted, I am already in bed.”
“You’re...you’re in bed?” Andy managed to mumble; her previous picture of silk-clad Miranda making her skin prickle deliciously.
“Where else would I be at such an hour? Honestly Andrea.”
“I...I’m getting into bed as we speak.”
A long, drawn-out hum that did unspeakable things to Andy’s libido, glided into her ear, warming her faster than the duvet she was tugging in place.
“You played well today.” Miranda stated softly, just as Andy’s head touched the pillow.
“That’s very kind, but I really didn’t.”
“Oh? You won did you not?”
“Yes but...I wasn’t on form. My head was someplace else.”
“And where was it, pray tell?”
Andy sighed, unsure how much to divulge given the delicate balance she was walking and how new this ‘thing’ was with the Queen of Fashion.
“Not in the game. My coach wasn’t best pleased, so I need to make my practice time count if I’m going to advance further.”
“I do not want to hinder you in any way Andrea. Me or my girls.”
“You didn’t...haven’t, er...don’t. I wouldn’t have asked if I had no interest in you being there.” She admitted sincerely, cradling the phone a little tighter.
“As long as you’re sure.”
“I am...sure, that is.”
“Acceptable.”
“I should...I should try and get some sleep.”
“Yes. I apologise for detaining you longer than was necessary.”
“It’s not needed. I’m...I’m really glad that you called.”
Bedsheets shifted and Andy could make out the sound of a lamp being switched off. The intimacy of the moment was palpable as she imagined Miranda turning towards her on the opposite pillow, their noses brushing together as they acclimatised to the darkness.
“I...I’m...yes.”
“So I’ll see you tomorrow then, well, today.”
“Yes.”
“Goodnight Miranda.”
“Goodnight Andrea.”
Andy rolled her eyes up to the ceiling as the call disconnected, a groan finally able to tumble free.
“Fuck. Fuckity fuck!” She growled.
It had been one thing crushing on an older woman and fantasising about what might be; reaching for the unobtainable, but this was snowballing into something so much more. So much deeper. Something she was ill-equipped to handle.
She placed a palm over her heart, the steady rhythm of it still quicker than her usual resting time. And she knew why.
Miranda.
From that first glance and the stormbound eyes that had fixed Andy to the spot, she had begun to crumble. She wanted to touch her again, to have her hands hold and clutch, her questing fingers gliding along supple pale skin that was softer than it had any right to be.
And now, the phone call. The way in which the older woman had said her name; the mellifluous over pronunciation of it that had sent a bolt of fire straight to her groin. She was positive she had never heard a voice more arousing, so perfectly balanced in tone and pitch. It was a delicious torment she yearned to hear again.
“Miranda.” Andy sighed, settling on her side and placing her palm on the empty pillow. “Just a few more hours to go.”