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Robbe hadn’t expected them to actually play tennis, but after Sander texted him later that night saying he was deadly serious and that he was going to kick his ass, he had no choice but find a racket from the cupboard under the stairs filled assorted, forgotten sporting equipment and meet his boyfriend, for what was probably not going to end up being a friendly game of tennis.
“Well, well, well, IJzermans, look who came to play” Sander was already at the court, dressed in gym shorts and a t-shirt, which, was not the norm, but a pleasant surprise, and after not seeing Sander in the flesh for over a month now, he could be wearing anything and he would have thought he was the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on.
Robbe shook himself out of the thought “Well I did have to prove that I was the sporty one in the relationship, surfing, skating, tennis, you name it, I’m the best.”
“All I’m hearing is talk, why don’t you show me these so-called ‘skills’ and we’ll see who is the master of tennis, loser owes the winner, oh, I don’t know, a kiss?” Sander tilted his head, pouting.
“Sander” Robbe sighed, “you know we can’t.”
He gave him a sad smile, all he wanted to do was hold him, touch him, kiss him, but he knew he couldn’t, and being this close was just about killing him.
“Okay, okay” Sander put his hands up in defeat “fries then?”
Robbe smiles.
“Deal”
They shake the air as if they are shaking hands, and the game is on.
The game starts off cordially, a volley here, a volley there, a few aces on both their parts, and after a few games into the first set they are tied 5-5. It was Robbe’s turn to serve. Holding the ball to the racket, on the left side of the court. He stares at Sander, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, spinning his racket in both hands diagonally across from him.
He tosses the ball upward and swings, hitting the ball into a sweet spot, acing Sander yet again.
“Ha!” Robbe exclaims, “Fifteen, love”
“You know, it’s cute and all, but why do you keep calling me love?”
Robbe stares blankly at Sander.
“You’re not serious are you?”
“Yeah, it’s sweet, cutie, but you really seem to love saying it after every point.”
Robbe bursts out laughing.
“You do know that love means zero, right?”
“Huh?”
“Love means zero, so I’ve not been calling you 'love', I’ve been saying the score, although if you like it so much, I might start...”
“So I could say ‘love' stars on booking.com then?” Sander smirks.
Robbe chuckles and shakes his head.
“Sure.”
“How come you know so much about tennis? I thought you didn’t play?”
Sander bounces the tennis ball up and down with his racket.
“I don’t. But when I was younger, Mama and I used to watch it together, she loves it, Wimbledon, French Open, you name it, every game was on TV, and when I was little, it was like, our special thing, we stopped doing it so much as I got older, I don’t really know why, but I still remember how the scoring works and that love means zero.”
Sander smiles.
"See, you do have traditions."
Robbe gives a shy smile in return. He shakes his head.
"Yeah, yeah, okay, now c’mon enough talking, give me the ball back, it’s still my serve and I want to prove my superiority in sports once and for all."
Sander chuckles, the way he does whenever Robbe says something amusing to him.
"Okay. Love."