Love Means Nothing: (A New Adult Sports Romance) Read online

  Love Means Nothing

  F. S. Hendricks

  .

  Love Means Nothing

  Copyright © 2021 by F. S. Hendricks.

  All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations em- bodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organiza- tions, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For information contact :

  [email protected]

  ISBN :

  First Edition: September 2021

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  This book is dedicated to my siblings : Lesslee, Freddee and Trip, whose Love Means Everything !

  CONTENTS

  Love Means Nothing

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1 Ashley

  Chapter 2 Ashley

  Chapter 3 Ashley

  Chapter 4 Ashley

  Chapter 5 Ashley

  Chapter 6 Ashley

  Chapter 7 Ashley

  Chapter 8 Ashley

  Chapter 9 Luca

  Chapter 10 Ashley

  Chapter 11 Ashley

  Chapter 12 Luca

  Chapter 13 Ashley

  Chapter 14 Ashley

  Chapter 15 Luca

  Chapter 16 Ashley

  Chapter 17 Ashley

  Chapter 18 Ashley

  Chapter 19 Luca

  Chapter 20 Ashley

  Chapter 21 Ashley

  Chapter 22 Ashley

  Chapter 23 Luca

  Chapter 24 Ashley

  Epilogue: One Year Later Luca

  Chapter 1 Ashley

  “You have to put more topspin, Ashley. It’s landing a foot out,” Coach Chris shouted over to me.

  It was Monday afternoon, one of the three days a week I am lucky enough to score a private lesson. Coach Chris was not just any old tennis coach; he was my saving grace! He stuck by my side for years, and he never failed me. I swear he could assume the title of Tennis God; he knew everything about the sport of tennis.

  “Ok. Got it,” I replied.

  The lesson was about to wrap up, and I knew how he hated to end on a bad note. I let the ball come to my racquet, brushing it in an upward motion to add the right amount of topspin.

  “There you go, do it again!”

  Chris was always motivating, and he wasn’t the yelling and punishing type of coach. He would ask certain questions, make observations, and work from there. Again, I paid attention to the ball coming my way. He was feeding to me from the baseline.

  I watched the bright yellow ball spinning towards me, a bright contrast to the blue hard court we were playing on. Every time I hit the ball just right, a sense of euphoria passed over me. It felt perfect, and I was addicted to it. I wanted to hit it perfectly, again and again, and again.

  After about ten more shots, Chris called me up to the net, “I have some good news for you. You know the new sponsor you got?”

  Having recently graduated from college, I was a professional tennis player, but I by no means had the financial funding a normal tennis player would. Most tennis players either came from money or had the financial backing to be able to travel the world and compete. Me, I barely made enough to buy groceries for the week. Coach and I trained at the courts at my apartment complex. They were cracked all over, uneven, but it was somewhere to train. I couldn’t afford to pay a country club to train every day.

  A few weeks ago, Coach Chris got a call from an anonymous sponsor. They thought I was a great up-and-coming player and would love to help support me on my journey. They were donating big time, and I would take anything I could get. Anything to help me accomplish my dream of a Grand Slam title.

  “Yeah, what about them?” I asked.

  “Well, they recommended a fitness trainer and are going to cover the cost of hiring him for you.”

  “That’s amazing!” I replied ecstatically.

  A fitness trainer! I had been going to the gym on my own a few times a week, but other than getting my heart rate up and blood pumping, I had no idea what I was doing.

  Fitness was a huge part of the game, and the level of a player’s physicality often determined the winner in grueling matches. I practically was bouncing off the walls. When I was younger, the girls I grew up competing against all went to high level training academies.

  Then they went to big Division I colleges and had optimum training in all thing’s tennis. I graduated two years back from a small Division III college and had to schedule extra hitting practices, go to the gym on my own, and worked hard day after day to get to where I wanted to be. I was lucky enough to earn a full ride academically, and I wouldn’t have traded my college experience for anything. Now I was in the big time, the pros. This opportunity was my chance to step up my training to a whole other level and keep up with my opponents.

  After years of bad luck, I feel as if it is slowly turning in the right direction.

  “We will meet him out at lunch tomorrow. His name is Luca,” Coach said.

  I could barely contain my excitement as we picked up the balls. Coach would shoot me amused smiles every once in a while. I quickly finished cleaning the court, then headed back to my apartment upstairs.

  The lobby was crummy, with elevators that operated only 50% of the time, so I always took the stairs. I headed up to the third floor and unlocked the door.

  My apartment, room 816, was small: one bedroom, a living room, and a kitchen. The only bathroom was attached to my bedroom. Even though it was tiny, I still called it home. My bookshelves were filled with books covering everything from tennis strategies, mental health all the way to romance and fantasy novels. When you walked into my apartment, it was obvious that reading was my favorite thing to do in my free time.

  In the corner of the living room, I had my old tennis stringer that I bought from a garage sale. It was expensive enough to buy the string for the racquets, let alone pay someone to do the work for you. I taught myself to string quickly with a few YouTube tutorials and caught the hang of it.

  I wasn’t the neatest person in the world, but I wasn’t really planning on anyone being here other than me. Certainly, no guys. I haven’t had a boyfriend since college, and even then, it wasn’t serious. Usually, they broke it off once they saw how busy I was. I often scroll through Instagram to see all the girls who used to be competitive junior tennis players. They are all mostly rich, stay-at-home moms now.

  Not going to lie, I envy them. I wish I had that comfortable life, with a family, and a loving husband, but I have invested too much time into my dream to call it off now.

  I tossed my racquet bag on the couch, and made my way to the bathroom to shower, and change into my PJs. The next day, I was supposed to hit in the afternoon with a guy named Brandon. Apparently, his ranking was good enough to already qualify for the U.S. Open. I was lucky that he wanted to take the time to hit with me. I have never met him before, but the sponsor recommended him. I would be down for a tennis boyfriend. I wish I knew who this so-called sponsor was so I could thank them.

  I grabbed a bowl of cereal, a bag of chips, and an apple before heading to my bedroom. Not the healthiest meal, but honestly, my fridge was kind of empty, and I didn’t have enough money to order takeout.

  I passed over with bare feet to my bed and got snuggled up. Even though I was 24 years old, I still loved my sleep like a teenager;
every bit I could get, I was grateful for. After a long, hard day, my favorite thing to do was to read until I fell into a deep sleep.

  *****

  “First Watch, turn here,” Coach instructed me.

  I pulled into the restaurant’s parking lot. We were supposed to meet Luca at 11:00. I wore my tennis training clothes, a grey T-shirt from a tournament, and a pair of running shorts. I wasn’t dressed to impress, but I had to go straight from this brunch to meet the new guy, Brandon. We were going to hit at his club, and the sponsor had already covered the cost.

  Coach and I walked into the restaurant and looked around. In the corner was a man looking around like he was waiting for someone. I pegged him as our guy. I turned to ask Coach if that was him, but he was already headed in that direction. I followed him soundlessly, feeling nervous.

  The man seemed to be a few years older than me but had an air of confidence of someone much older. He looked up at us and had the most beautiful blue eyes I had ever seen. I could get lost in those eyes and never want to be found. When I finally dragged my eyes away to survey the rest of him, the breath was knocked out of my lungs. He was gorgeous, tall, muscular yet lean, and had a dominating presence. His face looked straight out of a magazine, with a chiseled jaw, plump pink lips, and hair so dark brown it almost looked black.

  I wanted to run my fingers through his hair. It was probably so silky and soft.

  “Ashely,” Coach Chris said, snapping me out of my daze.

  I know Luca noticed because of his amused smirk. He stood up from his seat, towering over me. I was a tall girl, around 5’9, but he made me feel short. He had to be about 6’4.

  He reached out his hand for me to shake. He smelled of mint, soap, and man. I had to restrain myself from pulling his neck down to inhale more of his clean scent. I took his hand, and a shock went through my system. I felt warmness spread from where his hand connected with mine through every inch of my body. If this was how good touching his hand felt, I wondered how amazing it would feel to touch more of him. I felt my heart pounding in my chest as I pictured having his hands all over me.

  I wasn’t sure if he felt a connection too; he locked his eyes with mine, widening slightly, but then said, “Luca Renard.”

  “Ashley Carrington,” I replied, smiling up at him.

  I held onto his hand a moment too long and then went to sit across from his chair. Coach sat beside me, and our waitress approached. She seemed to focus all her attention on Luca. She asked us for our order. Luca ordered an egg-white veggie omelet with oatmeal and mixed greens and water. Coach ordered his usual eggs, sausage, toast, and water. I ordered my favorite lemon pancakes and water. When she got all our orders, she gave Luca a smile and walked off.

  “So, Luca, did you play any sports?” Coach asked him.

  “Yeah,” he responded, shivers shooting down my spine at the sound of his voice. I tried to break apart a piece of bread to busy myself.

  “I played baseball in college and played pro for a little bit. I actually played for the Tampa Bay Rays, but I tore my ACL during a game. It put me out of the sport for good. However, I was used to being active, and I loved fitness training, so I put all my energy into fitness and training others. I’ve trained a few other professional athletes, some basketball players, a football player, even a golfer. Tennis should be interesting though,” he crossed his arms, and his glance went my way. “It is a very versatile sport. You need every aspect of your body to be successful and work as one instrument. It requires strength, speed, endurance, and mental toughness. How physically fit do you think you are?” he asked me.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat, “Well, I haven’t really been able to afford good training. So, I just train on my own. The equipment in the gym at my apartment is crap, so I’m mostly doing just body weight stuff now.”

  The waitress brought our food, placed her hand on Luca’s shoulder, then asked if we needed anything else. Luca winked at her and told her we were all set.

  He turned his attention to me. When his eyes locked with mine, I could not think clearly. I felt like he could see into my soul. I tried to concentrate on my food and not get all flustered like the waitress.

  “What are your goals?” he asked me.

  “Huh?” I answered, caught off guard.

  “Your goals? Ambitions? Dreams? If you don’t have any, I might as well walk out of here right now.”

  I put down my fork, “No, no. Wait. I have goals. You may find them unrealistic, but I want to win the U.S. Open. I was able to compete in the qualifiers last year, but I lost in the second round. I want to win it, and I don’t care if it takes me years to do it. If I’m down 40-love, that only makes me work harder. I am either going to make it or die trying.”

  I set my jaw and looked him straight in the eye, “I need a trainer who is going to push me to the next level. I’m done being the girl people forget about. When I am done, they are going to remember my name. I think my physical training will be a stepping-stone to help me get to that level. If you think you can get me there, then you have the job. If not, there’s the door.”

  He looked at me with an amused smirk on his face, “I believe I can do that. We will need to start with the basics, though. Fitness tests, nutrition plan,” he eyed my pancakes. “When will I be able to see you play?”

  He crossed his arms over his broad chest, done with his food, and leaned back in his chair. He looked relaxed, content even. I had to force my eyes away from his bulging biceps.

  “I am hitting later today with a new hitting partner. You can come watch or come another day.”

  “I’ll be there,” he replied. “What time?”

  “Right after our meeting with you,” I said.

  “Ok. I will follow you there,” he said as the waitress came by with the bill for the table and handed it to him.

  He was intimidating. I was nervous to see what he had in store for me. My mind drifted, thinking about working out with him, having him spot me, and all his sweaty muscles. When I realized my mind had wandered again, he was staring at me, waiting for my response. The way he looked at me made me feel like I was just an annoyance to him, a pest, another project for him to take on.

  “I’m headed to the bathroom, then we will head over to the club,” Coach said.

  “Sounds good, Coach,” Luca replied.

  When Coach Chris left Luca abruptly sat up and leaned across the table. His warm breath fanned my face, “Listen, I’m your trainer. You are going to be pushed by me. You might not like me some days. Hell, you may even hate me, but if you want to be the best like you say you do, you are going to do everything I tell you to do. I am not your friend; I am just another opportunity to help you get closer to what you always wanted.”

  Shocked, I stared at him. It was the first thing he said to earn respect from me. I sat back, letting out a nervous breath, and he sat back too, shooting me a wink like he gave to the waitress earlier.

  Coach walked back our way and silently motioned to the door. Noticing we didn’t pay, I got out my wallet from my purse. I reached for the bill, but a warm hand landed on my arm, “Don’t worry, I got it,” Luca insisted.

  I tried to refuse, but it was no use. With a huff, I got up out of my chair and headed out towards my car. I hopped in my Ford Fiesta; Coach was already sitting in the passenger seat. I started my engine as I noticed Luca slide into an elegant, black Mercedes.

  The Mercedes followed us all the way from First Watch to the Golf and Tennis Club of Clearwater.

  Chapter 2 Ashley

  We pulled up to a country club with a beautiful view. It was right on the water and had the most gorgeous trees in rich shades of green.

  I popped the trunk and got out my Wilson tennis bag. Luca slid into the parking spot next to us, grabbing his shades before getting out of the car.

  His muscular body was on display in his form fitting shirt. I could see the shape of his ripped abs through his shirt, which was very distracting because my hand missed the
lid of the trunk when I tried to close it. He came over, gave me a sheepish grin, and closed it with a thwack.

  We made our way up the stairs to the entrance; Coach was already far ahead of us. Luca held open the door for me as we entered the elegant lobby.

  The lady at the desk had a permanent scowl on her face, and I hoped that Coach already asked what court we were on. I followed him out.

  Older players gathered around tables drinking coffee and chatting, while groups of teenage girls, wearing swimsuits that were more expensive than my car, were talking excitedly and headed towards the large swimming pool. I spotted Coach walking down the stairs of the patio, and I began following him with Luca on my trail.

  “So, this Brandon, is he supposed to be any good?” Luca asked.

  “Yes,” I replied. “He already has a good enough ranking to qualify for the U.S Open and has a UTR (universal tennis ranking) of 14. I’m rated an 11, and desperate for players to hit with, so I think he will be great. Hopefully, he will think I am good enough to keep hitting with.”

  He answered with a grunt and kept walking beside me. We stepped onto the clay court as Coach introduced us, “Hey, Ashley, this is Brandon and his Coach Franco.”

  I was stunned. Brandon was tall and blonde with piercing green eyes and dimples. Brandon had that golden boy look. He put his hand through his hair and smiled at me. It dazzled me completely. I am usually picky about who I find attractive, yet I meet two attractive guys on the same day.

  “Hi! This is my new trainer Luca. He is going to be observing our hitting session if that is ok with you?”

  “Yeah! That sounds great!” Brandon replied as he led me over to the benches. “We can just rally today, and maybe next time we can play a match or something.”

  Next time! Yes!

  “That would be good! I have a new can.” I pulled out the new can of balls from my bag.

  I peeled back the metal, opened the can, and placed the balls on his racquet, and went to get my hat and sunglasses out of my bag. From the corner of my eye, I saw Luca standing outside the court’s fence. He looked indifferent, and scarily intimidating, with his arms crossed and wide stance.