The ‘working for a girl’ comment aside, it was the most complimentary Todd had ever been. Charlie tried not to smile. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I know I can.’

‘Good. Get some dinner and a solid nine hours. Tonight I’m leaving you coverage of a match between Ivanov and Azarenka from a couple of years ago. I want you to pay particular attention to the way the two women interact as they’re preparing to play, switching sides, et cetera. It’s clear as day they want to fucking kill each other, and I think it’s damn good inspiration. I’ll see you at the gym tomorrow at seven-thirty sharp.’ He walked off without saying good-bye to either Dan or Charlie.

‘Hey, you want to grab some food? I was reading about a great ramen spot right off campus, and I promise not to tell Todd …’

It sounded appealing – the restaurant, the food, Dan’s easy company – but she couldn’t make herself say yes. She had that strange jittery feeling she got after losing a match or downing a double espresso, uncomfortably amped up and exhausted at the same time.

‘Or I can certainly be persuaded to hit up the In-N-Out in Westwood. I mean, that’s never a bad option either.’

Charlie looked him in the eye. ‘Actually, I think I’m going to take a rain check tonight. Just eat in my room and get to sleep early. I want to make sure I’m not coming down with anything …’

‘Sure, yeah, no problem,’ Dan said quickly.

‘Sorry, I just … I just need to—’

‘It’s totally fine. Have a good night, okay?’ He immediately turned to walk away before remembering he was carrying her racket bag. ‘Oh, here. Do you want me to drop this by your hotel? I don’t mind.’

‘No, not at all. But thanks.’ The awkwardness was palpable.

Charlie waved as Dan trotted off, feeling both guilty and relieved. She was about to head into the locker room before remembering that she was free and clear and would be so much happier soaking in a long bath in her luxurious hotel room. It was a little over three miles from the campus to her hotel, and although Charlie had planned to walk across Wilshire Boulevard and maybe take a quick detour to window-shop Rodeo Drive, she made a game-time decision to jump in an Uber. At the hotel, she walked into the restaurant to request that a salad be brought up to her room and promptly ran smack into Brian, her ex-boyfriend from freshman year.

‘Charlie Silver,’ he said. It wasn’t a question or a statement so much as a declaration.

He was not wearing hiking boots or a fleece vest or those army-green cargo pants that zipped off to become shorts. No sexy two-day stubble. No longish hair. He didn’t even really smell the same: Charlie couldn’t detect a hint of sweet smoky pine, as though he had just returned from fighting a forest fire. Instead, this grown man wore a suit. And not just any suit, but one that was tailored enough to hold its own on the streets of Paris or Barcelona. He was clean-shaven and fit, and although there wasn’t so much as a crinkle around his green eyes, he looked older, more mature.

‘Brian.’ She wasn’t at all surprised to see him, nor was his new clean-cut appearance any sort of shock. He never updated his Facebook account, from what she could tell – obviously she checked every now and then – but he regularly posted pictures on Instagram, which of course she followed. He and Piper also kept in touch, so Charlie already knew he returned to LA often to recruit on campus, that he was currently living in Chicago, and that his girlfriend, who looked like Jenna Bush’s doppelgänger, had recently moved into his apartment. And despite her knowing all this, tonight was the first time she’d seen him since the summer after her freshman year.

Brian grinned. ‘What are you doing here? Doesn’t your dad still live in Topanga?’

Charlie could feel her cheeks redden. Naturally she felt guilty for staying at a hotel instead of at her father’s. Leave it to Brian to home in on that in half a second. ‘Oh, you know, I played an exhibition match tonight, and the school offered to cover my room so I wouldn’t have to drive back late … I was just on my way to shower …’ She remembered only then that she was still wearing her soaking wet practice clothes and took a step back in case she smelled. God forbid she ever ran into an ex wearing actual clothes – no, she had to be clad in head-to-toe sweat-wicking fabrics with her greasy hair tied off into a messy bun. A red and bumpy chin from some sort of adult-onset acne. And probably bad breath.

‘Well, you look great,’ Brian said automatically, because he couldn’t possibly mean it.

‘I look like Courtney Love on a bender. Maybe worse,’ Charlie said.

Brian laughed. ‘Listen, do you have time for a quick drink or a coffee or something?’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I have a work dinner at nine, but I’m free until then.’

She froze for a second. The last thing Charlie wanted to do was make small talk or, worse, hear about Brian’s new girlfriend. The bath in her room was calling to her, as was dinner under the covers with HGTV for company.

Brian must have seen her hesitation. ‘Come on, fifteen minutes. For old times’ sake.’

She couldn’t think of an excuse fast enough – she clearly wasn’t headed anywhere the way she was dressed – and it had been forever since they’d seen each other.

Charlie nodded. ‘I can do fifteen minutes, but then I really have to get upstairs. Should we sit here?’

The waiter came to their table. Charlie ordered a club soda with lime, and Brian sheepishly asked for the spiked pink lemonade. ‘With an umbrella, if you can,’ Charlie added. ‘He really likes those.’

It wasn’t nearly as awkward as it should have been, this acknowledgment of an old inside joke. But it was quickly followed by an acutely uncomfortable silence.

‘So …’ they both said, and laughed.

‘So … congratulations on everything. Seriously, Charlie, what you’ve done is incredible. What are you now? Top twenty? Higher? It’s really terrific.’

Charlie tried not to look too pleased.

‘Oh, thanks. It feels good to break into the top twenty, definitely. I was injured at Wimbledon last year, and it’s been a long road back. I hired a new coach, and he has me on a whole new program, so things are hopefully headed in the right direction.’

‘Eversoll and Nadal’s old coach, right? Aren’t you the first woman he’s ever worked with? Very impressive.’