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When Enemies Attract	By : tennisstar Category: Individual Celebrities > Athlete/Sports Misc Views: 3351 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not know Roger Federer or Novak Djokovic, or claim that this is in any way representative of their true lives. I do not make any profit from the writing of this story. This is fiction.

Chapter List
- 16
- 17
By the time Christmas rolled around, Roger was fairly depressed. He was only doing a couple hours of maintenance training a week, so most of his time was free for Mirka to claim, and since Roger ran out of good excuses weeks ago, he justmindlessly went along with her errands.
They went Christmas shopping for hours on end, caught up with old friends over coffee or lunch, and visited family, none of which got him in the holiday spirit. He didn’t even realize how grumpy he was until Mirka jokingly called him The Grinch. You know you must be in a foul mood if Mirka is in better spirits than you, Roger thought bitterly. He just hoped he’d be in a better mood by his parent’s Christmas party.
The only thing keeping Roger sane was his knowing the exact reason why he was feeling so down, though he found it difficult to accept. Over the last couple months, he had been slowly disconnecting from this life, changing so he could no longer relate to the people around him. Roger felt like an actor in his own life, playing the role of his former self, or really, Mirka’s version of him. It was getting exhausting and Roger still had another week of “vacation” left to endure.
This became fairly obvious to Roger at one of the many business lunches Mirka had scheduled during the break. They were discussing business opportunities with his financial manager and Mirka kept droning on about capitalizing on the last wave of his fame with a new line of merchandise. He was shocked to hear that she was so heavily focused on his legacy, like she expected his career to be ending at any moment. Roger had come into the meeting hoping to get approval for more charity work, but Mirka shut down that idea quickly; claiming that the Roger Federer Foundation just built some courts in South Africa last year and that should be enough for awhile.
Roger was inspired by something Novak had said about how he wished he could’ve spent more time with his family when he was younger. Roger too was separated from his family when he was “discovered” as a potentially successful tennis player. Roger was sent to Basel for training when he was only eight, by age ten he only saw his parents a couple times a year, keeping in touch mostly through phone calls. He went an entire year without seeing Diana once when he was in junior training.
Novak’s story was similar, except he was sent to an academy in Germany. He didn’t see his parents or younger brothers for two years, not until he started competing as a junior all around Europe. That’s why his family went a bit crazy supporting him now, Novak explained, because they couldn’t be there in the early years, and because his coaches had practically raised him.
That’s why Novak’s family’s controversial purchase of an ATP tournament bothered him so much, because a junior program is what he thought Serbia truly needed, not a professional event. Roger remembered his impassioned speech well, the Serb’s words of frustration stuck with him.
“There is interest there. They watch us on TV and the kids, they just want to play, you know? But there aren’t enough courts or training programs. And there are only so many spots available in the academies of Germany and France for non-national players. That is how we should “give back to tennis.” Then we can buy a professional tournament…”
Roger knew deep-down that his relationship with Novak had something to do with the change in him. It seemed like the closer they got, the less attached he felt to the way things were before Novak. As their relationship developed, Roger felt like he was growing with it, but instead of feeling like a whole new person, he felt like he was reverting back to a former self that got buried many years ago. He was becoming a polished up version of that man.
Family time was Roger’s only escape from the suffocating world of Mirka. He didn’t have to be on edge around his parents, and just being back in his childhood home was comforting. And then there was Diana who never failed to amuse him. She would gladly psychoanalyze why he was feeling so lost, but Roger knew she would come to a similar conclusion. He just doesn’t fit into this life anymore and nobody likes being left out for being different.
He was glad that she arrived a few days early because Diana was the only person who would stand up to Mirka, and Roger felt his girlfriend really needed to be told off. With Diana’s arrival also came the feeling of being understood, a comforting force that made Roger instantly at ease, which is probably what makes her such a great therapist. That was especially true this time considering she was one of the few people who knew about his secret life, something that was beginning to feel unreal to him after weeks away from Novak. Those nights in the hotel rooms seemed like a fantasy world.
“She’s planning something,” Diana whispered cryptically to him when they met for tea, choosing a moment when Mirka was distracted, which happened to be a heated argument with the waiter.
“She always is,” he responded lightly. Roger was only slightly concerned. A scheming Mirka is always a dangerous one. Roger hoped it was just a challenging business deal that had her planning; otherwise this holiday could get much worse real fast.
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Even good-natured Ana was reduced to an eye roll as Marko asked his twentieth question since they sat down for dinner. Novak didn’t understand his sudden curiosity; Ana had been around their family for most of Marko’s life. True, she had grown up quite a bit in the last couple of years, but that should only convince Marko that she’s no longer on his level. The shy girl with braces might’ve been nice to him, but she was a tennis star now, a paid endorsement model; Ana didn’t have time for teen crushes. Mama and Papa Djokovic had already tuned their middle child out, choosing instead to correct Djorde’s unbecoming table manners in such a dramatically formal way that Novak would’ve sworn they thought they were dining with royalty. Ana’s parents were seated more favorably by Novak’s aunt and uncle, their former neighbors when they still lived in Belgrade, far away from the eccentrics in his close family.
Novak attempted to redirect the conversation around him several times, mostly for Ana’s sake, but Marko was relentless. The only time he would stop his obnoxious flirting was when Novak mentioned Ana’s blossoming career or Verdasco, both subjects Marko didn’t think he was allowed to have an opinion on as a much lesser player and less eligible suitor. To his credit, Marko recovered easily from Novak’s derailment attempts. Marko would just pause to allow Ana to respond appropriately, and then latch onto some vague detail of what she said and change the subject. If it weren’t so pathetic, Novak would be impressed. It’s not easy to turn Ana’s “I may go visit him in Spain next week” into a discussion on Madrid’s chances of winning the World Cup.
Marko had spent the better part of a week shopping for the perfect gift to woo Ana, finally deciding on a silk scarf that their mother helped pick out. She loved the scarf, but didn’t give him the kiss he was hoping for, which was probably best since they were surrounded by intrigued family members. Novak waited until just before Ana left to give his present so they could retreat to the safety of his room while their families were distracted. Novak didn’t want to outshine his brother, at least not publically; especially since his gift didn’t take nearly as much effort to choose since Ana told him straight out what she’d like a couple days ago.
On the plane trip back home from the US Open Novak asked how he could ever make it up to her, for everything she has done for him the last couple of months. “Well, you could start with these earrings,” she joked, pointing out a picture in the magazine she was flipping through. Novak leaned in closer to take a look at the jewelry.
“Stop it,” Ana said, shutting the magazine and tossing it aside. “After sixteen years of friendship you should know I’d do anything for you.”
Novak nodded, still trying to peek through the pages. “For free,” she added, putting the magazine away in her bag.
Novak felt the same, so he bought the earrings. He was already getting her a Christmas gift and it wasn’t often that you could get someone exactly what they wanted and surprise them. But as great as his gift was, Ana still beat him. She knew exactly what Novak wanted for Christmas, or really who he wanted, but she couldn’t really help with that. But, she could get him the next best thing. Before Novak even understood what it was, Ana grabbed the bottle of fragrance and sprayed it, a puff of liquid surrounded them and Novak could actually smell Roger. He closed his eyes and took in the musky scent, with just a hint of vanilla that Novak had always wondered about.
“I thought so,” Ana responded happily. “Roger is too honest to put his name on something he doesn’t use.”
Novak smiled, wondering how such a brilliantly clever person could exist. Her parents were calling from downstairs; it was time for them to leave, so Novak thanked her and walked her to the door. It wasn’t until later that he read what she wrote on the card.
“So he’ll always be with you,” she wrote in loopy cursive, and Novak hoped he always would be.
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Roger dreaded the Christmas party more and more with each passing hour as he helped his parents decorate the house and was told who would be there. The idea of spending the holiday with distant family members and random friends of his parents wasn’t exactly appealing with the way he was feeling. It was only at functions like this that Roger was truly aware of his fame. Lingering stares and nervous conversation were all he had to look forward to, that and an evening of playing the perfect couple with Mirka.
At least I have Diana, he reasoned, her snide comments always cheered him up and Jim’s cluelessness about Swiss customs was always good for a laugh. It reminded him of when he knew Andy Roddick in juniors, how eccentrically strange he had seemed compared to the mild-mannered Swiss players Roger had grown up with. He soon learned that Americans were just different. Not bad, just different.
Diana came over around noon to help their mother cook while Roger repaired a place on the roof that leaked when the snow melted; complaining the entire time that someone whose body is less valuable should be the one hammering away twenty feet in the air on a wobbly latter. His sister whispered to him in passing that she had a fantastic gift for him but refused to give any details. Roger wasn’t even sure what he and Mirka had gotten Diana, knowing Mirka, it was probably the ugliest necklace in the Vavrinec jewelry store, but Roger hoped she was mature enough to get his sister something nice.
Mirka joined them an hour before the party began, bringing with her the recipe for her mother’s holiday eggnog. She also brought their overnight bags so they wouldn’t have to drive through the snow at night. Roger was unnerved at how clingy she seemed since they had only parted for a couple hours. He was dreading another evening as her arm candy. Mirka surprised him by being friendly and attentive to his parent’s guests, even replenishing his drink for him throughout the night. Roger didn’t know why she was playing housewife hostess, but it certainly caught Diana’s attention.
“Someone is trying to get you drunk,” Diana said playfully as Mirka fetched him another cup.
“It’s just eggnog. There is like one shot of whiskey in the whole punch bowl,” Roger replied, knowing that Mirka wasn’t all that fond of alcohol or the improper behavior it created.
“Then it must be a guilty conscience. Has she done anything especially malicious lately?” Diana asked excitedly, ignoring Jim who rolled his eyes in disapproval when he looked toward Roger, but was snickering behind his wife’s back.
“Not that I know of,” Roger responded, knowing he shouldn’t answer, that only encourages her, but Mirka has been a constant annoyance to him for weeks now. It didn’t hurt to laugh a bit at her expense, did it?
“I’ll investigate,” Diana announced as Mirka approached with his drink. He didn’t hear from his sister again for at least an hour, and Mirka seemed content to just let him sit fireside with Jim who tried, as always, to talk about tennis. Roger respected the effort, knowing that Americans aren’t necessarily as tennis-aware as the European countries. Football was their main sport, that and baseball, basketball, even golf, all came before tennis. Roger didn’t mind questions like “what was your best hit this year?” or “how many net-hits did you get?” The genuine interest was there, the tennis knowledge was just lacking. Roger made a mental note to invite Jim to more matches, maybe have him sit next to Mirka or one of his coaches to learn more about the game.
Diana pulled him aside as their parents said goodbye to a couple of guests who were heading out early. “I think she stole some pills,” Diana revealed confidently.
“What? From who?” Roger replied, already assuming he was being updated on why Mirka’s conscience was weighing on her.
“Dad is missing a pill bottle. Mom asked me if I saw them around somewhere,” Diana said conspiratorially.
Roger sighed. “Di, Dad is old. Old people lose things.”
“I know,” she admitted, but she didn’t sound entirely convinced. “But that’s all I got. I guess if someone turns up poisoned to death, we’ll have a suspect.”
Roger rolled his eyes knowing that Diana was just grasping at straws. Mirka probably wasn’t up to anything at all, maybe she just wanted to be friendly. “What kind of pills were they? I don’t think dad is on any killer pills.”
“I don’t know. Mom wouldn’t say. Probably just high blood pressure pills or something,” she offered, shrugging the subject away and admitting defeat.
Gift time rolled around soon enough and Roger wished Mirka would’ve given him a recap before they were handed out because he ended up being just as surprised as the receiver when they unwrapped their gifts. Roger wasn’t surprised to see a gaudy gold necklace with large, oddly-colored stones given to Diana, nor the fine gold watch to Jim, Mirka always liked him just fine, despite his wife’s antics. Diana gave Mirka a pair of designer sunglasses, which Roger thought was quite nice until Mirka tried them on and she looked like a bug with a disproportionate face.
“And for you,” Diana said, handing him an envelope with a wide grin.
Roger was terribly confused. An envelope like this could only have a rather tall Christmas card or money. Neither seemed all that fantastic. A card was too simple and it seems a little silly to give someone money when he is pretty much set for life. Whatever it was, Mirka was leaning in close to get the first look.
“Plane tickets?” she announced, grabbing them from him to take a look.
“To Monte Carlo, home of casinos and near-perfect weather,” Diana said in a dramatic game show announcer voice telling the contestant what they had just won.
Mirka frowned when she saw Diana had written her own name on the extra ticket, claiming a sibling trip was just what she needed since Jim would soon return to the U.S. for a couple weeks to check on his businesses. Roger wasn’t exactly sure what it was that Jim did, but whatever it was he is fairly successful at it. He ran most everything from his office in Switzerland, his large staff following his orders in the States. Jim had to fly out a couple times a year to check on things, but other than that he stayed in Switzerland. Diana had talked a few times about moving to America, claiming there aren’t enough potential clients in their area in Switzerland. Apparently America has more emotionally damaged people in need of therapy and something about that seemed to excite her.
“A whole week? That doesn’t fit into the schedule,” Mirka said defiantly.
“Sure, it does. We leave tomorrow and get back just in time for Roger to meet you in Dubai for pre-Australian Open training.”
Mirka couldn’t really dispute that and walked away in a huff, claiming she had business meetings and appearances to rearrange. Roger didn’t remember hearing about these obligations before, but Mirka didn’t always give him much of a warning. He had already worked out his clothes with Nike, gone over his game plan with his coaches, reserved his usual suite and sent his rackets off to be restrung. As far as Roger could tell, he was all set.
“Why Monaco?” Roger asked suspiciously, wondering if his sister knew who lived in Monte Carlo that would interest him.
“I know the cutest travel guide who lives there,” she said slyly. Oh yeah, she knows.
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“Tell me again how crazy this plan is?” Mirka asked, her voice shakier than normal.
“It’s insane,” the man stated bluntly. “No Merry Christmas? Mir, you do realize this is a holiday, right?”
“Merry Christmas,” she said in a forced cheery voice. “Now tell me it’s crazy again.”
“That’s better. Merry Christmas to you too babe. Now what were you saying about a plan?”
“His sister is taking him away on some holiday. To Monaco of all places! Why the fuck would they want to go there?!”
“Well it is nice at this time of year. Actually it’s pretty nice year round. 300 days of sunshine…”
“You sound like a damn travel brochure. They’re going there because of the legal privacy. The perfect place to meet up with your whore on the side,” Mirka spat scathingly.
“Do you honestly believe his sister would support that?”
“I think she would do anything to break us up. Not that it would be too hard these days. I swear he wouldn’t even talk to me if I didn’t make him. It wouldn’t be that hard to steal him away. I have to do something to keep him.”
“No matter what he’s been doing, this is wrong, Mirka. If he ever found out, I don’t think he could forgive you.”
“I can’t let him get her pregnant first. And it’s the only way to make sure he’ll stay with me,” Mirka said, trying to keep the tears out of her voice.
“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” he said, sounding almost amused. Mirka wanted to smack him on the head or at least hang up dramatically, but he’s all she has right now and she didn’t want to be alone.
“Why’s that?” she demanded.
“I just don’t think he’s seeing some girl,” the man responded vaguely.
“I know he is cheating, we’ve already established that. I just don’t know who she is,” Mirka said, the subject had clearly crossed her mind many times.
“I’m not saying he isn’t cheating, I just don’t think it’s…never mind,” he cut himself off, not sure if he should tell her what he suspected. “Just don’t do something stupid, Mirka. Merry Christmas.”
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With only one glass of champagne, Roger was already feeling buzzed. Maybe it’s just the holiday spirit catching up with me, he thought cheerfully. Or maybe I’ve finally got something to be happy about. Roger usually had a higher drinking tolerance than one drink, but he was feeling unusually tipsy. He decided it was just the prospect of seeing Novak tomorrow that had him excited.
Mirka kept the drinks coming and Roger kept telling himself that he really loved eggnog, so much so that he decided he should drink it daily since it put him in the best mood ever. If I drink it always, I’ll never be unhappy again, he reasoned somewhat logically, and at the time that sounded about right.
Despite the alcohol coursing through his system, Roger was able to text Novak, letting his fingers remember the familiar sequence of buttons. “You didn’t tell me I see you soon!”
“That is how surprises usually work :)”
“And when I tell you I miss you, you couldn’t have told me?”
“Maybe I just liked hearing you say that. And it wasn’t my surprise to reveal.”
“Well I do miss you. But I’ll be all better tomorrow.”
“You should be careful what you type on that thing. You never know who could come across it,” a familiar voice spoke next to him. Roger looked up to find the friendly smile of Tiger Woods.
“Don’t I know it,” he said to himself, thinking of when Mirka found the webpage on his phone. Roger smiled, happy to see his friend. “When did you get here?”
“Just in time for dessert. We just flew over from Sweden. The kids wanted to be at home for Christmas morning,” Tiger said, nodding toward his children, asleep on a sofa.
“I think they’ve got the right idea,” Roger said, slumping into the cushions, feeling quite sleepy himself.
“Or maybe you do. I heard you’re headed for Monte Carlo tomorrow. Sans Mirka, how’d you swing that?” Tiger asked, his suspiciously curious tone going unnoticed by his drunken friend.
“Diana, of course. It was her idea. I’m just a pawn in their games,” Roger said dopily, not sounding all that perturbed by their passive-aggressive rivalry.
“Well enjoy it, man. Breaks are hard to come by in our business.”
“Right you are,” Mirka agreed, offering Roger another mug of eggnog as she whispered quietly to Tiger. The man rolled his eyes slightly, but returned to his wife who was attempting to wake the children to leave. Roger hardly remembered saying goodbye to the man, and the stream of guests that followed out the front door.
Once everyone had left, Mirka practically dragged him up the steps to the bedroom and helped him shrug off his clothes since the room was sickeningly warm and he didn’t have the strength. Roger kept thinking how sleepy he was, but his body felt too awake to slumber. Mirka was still moving around the room and watching her made him dizzy. He closed his eyes and just listened to the shuffling.
It was only a few moments that he stayed like that before Mirka was on him, shaking him awake. “em sleepy,” he mumbled out.
“No way. You can’t do this, not tonight,” Mirka replied. Roger heard plastic tearing and his eyes shot open.
“What’re you doin?” he managed to ask, adrenaline taking over.
“That should be fairly obvious by now,” Mirka’s as she ripped away his boxers and moved to roll the condom down his cock. “We always have sex on Christmas.”
“But I’m practically asleep,” Roger reasoned.
“Not all of you,” she said with a devious smirk, cupping his erection to prove her point. Roger wasn’t sure when he’d grown hard, he certainly didn’t feel turned on, but it didn’t seem like Mirka was going to relent.
“Fine,” he gave in, letting his eyes droop half closed. If she wanted to have sex with him, then she’d have to do all the work. As for him, Roger was just barely conscious enough to feel the vague sensations running through his tired body, and with his mind only dimly aware of his surroundings, it was much easier to pretend it was someone else riding his cock and kissing his neck.
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Roger woke with a killer headache the next morning, stumbling into the bathroom for some aspirin. His stomach was upset and he resolved never to drink eggnog again. He sat on the ledge of the bathtub, expecting his stomach to empty at any moment. As he sat there Roger noticed the condom wrapper in the trash. He really hoped Mirka had brought it with her since Roger hadn’t bought that brand in years, not since Jared Mason stopped selling them behind the bleachers after tennis practice when they were fourteen. All his friends had stocked up, each pretending that they had some use for the rubbers and weren’t just hiding them in drawers at their parent’s house.
Roger wasn’t sure how well he trusted a ten year old condom, especially since the used latex sheath appeared to be in worse shape than usual. Thank God for birth control, he thought, knowing Mirka was too responsible to miss a dose. He inwardly reassured himself that thirty year old women aren’t exactly fertile and 97 percent protection should be more than enough.
The panic of the faulty condom was enough to upset his stomach further into emptying. He brushed his teeth like five times after retching, further resolving to never touch eggnog again.
They left his parent’s house just after breakfast so he could get packing. Diana stopped by their apartment around lunch to “distract Mirka so he could pack ‘the good stuff.’” He felt terribly over-packed by the end of the day, lugging his three suitcases into a cab and helping Diana with hers. If Roger had it his way, he wouldn’t need to bring any clothes at all for this week, except maybe a pair of swim trunks.
Roger was surprised by the pouch of money Mirka handed him as they ran out the door to make their flight, reminding him that he isn’t the greatest card player and suggesting he “team up” with the more manipulative Diana who was surely an excellent gambler with her training in human behavior. Roger smiled at her kindly, trying not to question why she was being unusually nice and supportive. Maybe she feels bad about her aggressiveness last night, he thought, knowing she didn’t like seeing herself like that. Or maybe she really does have something to feel guilty about…
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Roger didn’t know much about Novak’s life in Monte Carlo. He knew the Serb hadn’t lived there long, just over a year, but Roger wasn’t sure what had drawn him so far from his family in Serbia. It was a nice place, Roger recalled from the many tournaments he’d played in the city. The beach was picturesque, though he never had time to go for a swim, and the weather was always sunny which made for perfect playing conditions. It was an odd thing trying to imagine what Novak’s home is like since they spent most of the year in various hotel rooms. His mind kept switching between the ultimate bachelor pad and a chaotic college dorm. He imagined Novak’s style would fit somewhere in between.
He was awed by the beauty of the city at dusk as the last remnants of light shone down on the water and the bright lights of the casino began taking over. That is where the car was taking them, to the casino where Roger would supposedly be wasting away a week gambling. The thought seemed silly now, to imagine him spending any significant amount of time there and he wondered why Mirka didn’t see through the flimsy excuse. Diana was looking forward to spa treatments and people watching. She has told him more than once already that a casino is an excellent place to observe the true character of people, watching people struggling with chance and wallowing in defeat. It sounded rather dreary to Roger, but Diana sure was excited.
Roger would be happy with just seeing Novak. After the stress of the holidays, complete with facing the demise of his relationship with Mirka and the realization that nobody back home even knows him anymore, Roger just wanted to be himself with somebody and Novak is the only person who makes him feel like he isn’t alone.
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Novak was slightly nervous as he fidgeted around in the hotel lobby, waiting for the car to bring Diana and Roger from the airport. It wasn’t that he was nervous to see Roger, his excitement for that is what kept him up all night dreaming of the possibilities this week could hold, it was that this meeting was happening away from the tour and outside of stuffy hotel rooms. They were in Monte Carlo, Novak’s new hometown, and it all felt a bit more real.
Novak hadn’t quite acknowledged the anxiety that loomed at the back of his mind, subtly reminding him that this was a big moment and it could only go two ways. They could come out of this week closer than ever, more secure and comfortable with each other, intimate in a way he had only dared to imagine.
That was his dream, but it was the other possible result that scared him, that had him literally shaking with fear. There are no rules in Monte Carlo; they don’t have to hide together away from the world because here they aren’t big stars, just regular people. Novak feared that a week would be just long enough for Roger to realize that outside of all the sneaking around, they aren’t anything special. Or worse, he could start to see Novak as the over-privileged brat he once saw, the one that Roger rather openly disliked.
Surely that was an irrational fear, but that didn’t keep him from rearranging the living room furniture three times this morning because he once heard that you can tell everything about a person from their home décor, and everything in his place looked juvenile, immature, or girly because Jelena had furnished most of his flat for him and he didn’t really think much about what she bought. Novak wished that Ana was around to tell him it would all work out, but she was in Spain with Verdasco and he didn’t want to bother her.
Sure, Jelena was here and she had been so helpful throwing together plans with him this week, but he found himself incapable of telling her the full truth. Living in the same apartment building as him, and being his only friend in Monte Carlo, she had seen a different side of him, the person he used to be. She wouldn’t understand what he has with Roger, how important it is to him, because she’s seen too many women come and go from his life to think him capable of caring this deeply. And most of all, she doesn’t know Roger and the power of his presence, or his significance in tennis, she doesn’t know how influential in their world he is or what a wonderful person he is away from the spotlight. She doesn’t understand what Novak would be losing if this doesn’t work out.
He sat down in a plushy looking armchair that was actually quite hard on his back, but it was better than standing there with weak knees looking like a child searching the crowd for his parents. Jelena watched him from behind the counter, looking strange in her businesswoman clothes. She had been promoted from clerk to assistant manager recently and didn’t have to wear the tacky khaki and navy blue uniform that most employees wore. Outside of the hotel, he’d only ever seen her in a t-shirt and jeans, or a swim suit if they went to the beach. It was odd to see her in her workplace, but she seemed to fit the roll of mini-boss quite nicely.
Novak hadn’t gotten up to nerve to tell her about who exactly he was meeting yet. She had figured out he was seeing a man, which didn’t seem to surprise her as much as it should’ve, but she didn’t know who the guy was, or why he was bringing his sister along. Novak still hadn’t quite figured out the best way to tell someone you’re dating Roger Federer. Whenever he thought about them dating it still seemed like one of those impossible dreams, that or the crazy ramblings of a madman. As far as the world knows, Roger is practically engaged, and he hates Novak, or really just dislikes him since Roger is too polite to ever hate someone openly.
Jelena flashed him an apologetic look and wandered off with a seemingly dissatisfied customer. No sooner than she’d shut the door to her office, Diana walked in waving for the bellman to follow with a cart full of bags and Roger walking beside him, insisting on carrying something. He felt his pulse speed up and couldn’t shake the smile on his face even if he wanted to. Diana spotted him quickly and before he knew it she had wrapped him in a tight hug. Roger abandoned his efforts when he spotted his boyfriend and gave him a jokingly apologetic look when Diana hung onto him for a bit too long, squeezing until his lungs felt tight.
Novak was anxious to get Diana settled in to her suite so he could steal Roger away from this part of town where the chances of them being photographed together were quite high. A quarter of an hour later they were back downstairs, wishing Diana luck as she walked into the Casino, fancy cocktail in hand, seemingly delighted by the plethora of gamblers, from the drunken addicts with rings around their eyes from lack of sleep to the newbies who are experiencing their first taste of success and desperate for more.
“I bet she’ll be running a gambling support group by the end of the week,” Roger joked, watching as she zeroed in on a bunch that looked particularly hopeless.
“Maybe she can take over the gamblers anonymous meetings at the hotel. They have one every hour of the afternoon to keep up with the guilt. I guess it doesn’t sink in until after lunch,” Novak quipped, earning him an amused chuckle. God he’d missed Roger’s laugh.
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As they walked down the street, away from the bright lights of the Casino and Roger’s sister who was happily gambling within, Novak slipped his hand into Roger’s, intertwining their fingers sweetly. Roger smiled at him briefly before pulling away, remembering there could be cameras anywhere and that the sight of them together could be career-ending for them both.
“What’s wrong?” Novak asked and Roger could see the hurt in his eyes.
“It’s just- someone could see us,” Roger explained.
Novak smiled amusedly, thoroughly confusing Roger. “Even if they did, they couldn’t tell anyone. At least not anyone outside of Monte Carlo...”
“Why not?”
“You’ve never heard of the Monte Carlo Discretion Law?”
Roger obviously thought he was joking. “No.”
“Most people call it Prince Rainer’s Privacy Law because it was his idea. After his wife’s very public death, Rainer moved his family to a villa in Monte Carlo and made a law protecting the city from reporters and photographers. He was trying to shield future generations of royals from the invasive media, but it’s mostly the celebrity residents that benefit.”
“Why haven’t I heard of this before?” Roger asked, excited by the idea of freedom. “We play two tournaments here a year.”
“The law isn’t quite so effective with a swarm of tourists in town, but technically they aren’t supposed to say anything. Even if they get a picture, the government will stop it from ever going public.”
“So then it’s safe to do this?” Roger asked with a devious smirk, taking Novak’s hand and pulling him close, the two of them leaning against a light pole, kissing hungrily and subtly rubbing against each other. Roger had missed the firm confidence of Novak’s lips, his taste, and the tenderness that was always there, even when they were consumed by the passion of the moment.
“Ahem,” they heard, breaking apart to find an older couple passing them on the sidewalk. Novak gave them an unforgiving glare that made it clear he wouldn’t be apologizing any time soon. The couple scurried off quickly after that, probably afraid they would start grinding on each other again.
“Just because they can’t tell on us doesn’t mean they won’t judge,” Novak said, rolling his eyes in annoyance. With one last peck, Novak grabbed Roger’s hand and continued their walk toward his home, though slightly faster than before, both anxious to get to Novak’s place to start the real reunion.
“Did you know about the law when you moved here?” Roger asked, curious why Novak would crave privacy two years prior, well before he had drawn much media attention.
Novak seemed to blush, but Roger couldn’t quite tell in the dusky lighting. He was slow to answer. “I wasn’t always the person I am now and it’s probably best that phase of my life stayed quiet.”
Novak didn’t offer any more and Roger wasn’t sure he wanted to ask for elaboration. What was he doing that needed that much secrecy? Roger wondered, trying very hard to ignore the voice in his head paraphrasing the Tennis Watch article about Murray and Novak’s party habits. He’d written it off as casual slander, but maybe there was more truth in the story than he’d been willing to see. If that was the case, Novak seemed appropriately shameful for his past behavior and Roger decided instantly that the Serb was forgiven for whatever it was that he didn’t want to talk about. Novak was looking back on that time with the embarrassed flush that only comes with all-knowing hindsight. Roger had a similar period in his life, when he gave into the temptation of alcohol and partying, but that ended abruptly with the death of his mentor. Roger wondered what Novak’s wake-up call was…
The walk was longer than Roger had expected, and he was glad that his bags were being delivered the next morning instead of having to lug them around for a couple of blocks. The city at night was truly a fantastic sight and Roger felt at peace as he walked through the streets with Novak by his side, occasionally pointing out an interesting landmark or sharing a story. Roger didn’t get to see Novak like this enough, happy and relaxed, free from the pressures of being an up-and-coming tennis star and sports celebrity. Roger had been unsure what to expect from this visit. They were so used to sneaking around that he didn’t know what it would be like to be together unguardedly. What he found was a sense of comfort, like they had always been together this way and always would be.
Just as the salty fresh smell of the ocean drifted over them, a large apartment complex came into view. The outside of the building fit in with the classic architecture of the city around them, though it was obviously quite a bit newer than the surrounding villas and shops. One side of the complex looked newer than the rest, though the bricks had obviously gone through an aging treatment in attempt to match. Roger figured they would look identical in a couple years.
Novak led him to the newer side, opening a tall gate that surrounded that corner of the building. Inside, Roger expected the air conditioning units and power generators that were typically hidden somewhere on the property behind fences like this. Instead, he found a rather large yard with a small garden, grill and patio furniture. Looking up he saw a balcony on the third floor that looked unlike the small rickety ones attached to the other parts of the building.
“Come on,” Novak said, guiding him around to the front entrance. They came into a hallway with several doors, though none on the same side as the one Novak stood beside. It seemed he had that entire part of the building to himself. Something about them being alone in the hallway as Novak shuffled through his key chain, examining the keys and mumbling about how he should really mark them somehow so he could tell them apart, made Roger feel the need to be closer to his young lover. He moved behind the Serb, hugging him from behind and kissing his neck. Novak tried to ignore him and stick to his task, but he found himself moaning and rolling back his head to give Roger better access.
Finally he found the key and they were on each other the moment the door was closed. Moonlight streamed into the room from the glass patio doors and Roger could see the little yard through them. Novak led him to what looked like a couch and they collapsed onto it. Clothes were shed quickly with the expertise they’d found over their months together, all while their mouths stayed connected. Roger looked around for something to serve as lube. He had some in his bags but they wouldn’t be here for another couple of hours.
Novak caught on quickly. “Side table, the drawer under the lamp.”
Roger looked at him oddly, wondering why Novak would keep it there, but his look was lost in the dark. He grabbed the bottle and a condom, returning to his place between Novak’s legs. He kissed his way back up to Novak’s mouth, missing him already. He poured the slimy liquid on his fingers and gently pushed one in. Novak tensed for a moment, but relaxed after a couple deep breaths. Roger moved his finger around experimentally, stretching the tight heat around him. He slid in a second digit, kissing down Novak’s jaw to gently suck at his neck, wanting Novak’s mouth to be free so he could hear his breathy moans. Roger twisted his fingers, searching for his lover’s prostate, smirking in satisfaction when he brushed it, causing Novak to cry out and mewl beneath him.
“I want you in me,” Novak whispered huskily with desire clouding his eyes. Roger could only nod, pulling out his fingers and rolling on the condom and coating his cock in lube. He pushed in slowly, but persistently, until his cock was fully engulfed. Then he waited, knowing Novak would need a moment to adjust to the slight burning and the pressure of being filled. He had his eyes screwed closed, reminding Roger that it had been nearly a month since they had done this and he hoped he hadn’t rushed anything.
“M’kay,” Novak said, wrapping his legs around Roger’s back and pulling his mouth close as Roger’s hips began to move, thrusting shallowly until he found his rhythm. Roger changed his angle slightly, rewarded with a shaky moan. Roger kept thrusting, closing his eyes in concentration. He was surprised how close he was already and determined to bring Novak off with him. Roger grabbed the hard cock in front of him and pumped it in time with his own thrusts. He felt Novak’s muscles spasm around him and his cock twitch in Roger’s hand. With four more thrusts, Novak was coming on his hand and their stomachs, the sight pushing Roger over the edge.
Roger pulled out gently, discarding the condom in a nearby trash bin and collapse into Novak’s arms. They laid there until their breathing evened out; relishing the feeling of being in each other’s arms again.
“So this is the living room,” Novak said smartly.
---------------------------
Roger had been in the apartment for two days before he actually took a good look around. He mostly found his way around by remembering the many places they’d had sex and the paths they stumbled along to get there. Novak was usually there to guide him, but the Serb was still asleep and Roger was hungry, so he sought out the designer kitchen that he vaguely recalled catching a glimpse of at some point. Bottom floor? He asked himself, nodding his agreement. It would be silly to put a kitchen anywhere else. He found the living room (and their favorite couch) and he remembered Novak fetching them some drinks from somewhere nearby.
He turned the corner and nearly ran into a stainless steel door covered in magnets. Roger was just about to nudge the door closed when it swung back into place right in front of him, revealing a dark haired girl who was far too perky for this early in the morning. She was so busy piddling around in the kitchen that it took her a moment to notice Roger frozen in the doorway. She yelped in surprise and moved back a couple paces, clutching her chest dramatically as she regained her breath.
“My God, you startled me,” she breathed, picking up an array of fruit that she had knocked out of the bowl on the counter. Roger looked at her closely, unsure who she was or why she was here. It occurred to him that he might’ve stumbled into somebody else’s apartment. He never really understood these loft-style apartments with minimal walls and almost no doors. But this woman looked familiar. Roger’s first guess was that he had seen her around the building somewhere, but he quickly wrote that off considering that the closest he’d been to outside since his first night here was answering the door for takeout food last night. Roger was certain he had seen her before, and not just in passing either. He felt like he had looked at her before, really looked and actually thought about her for a moment.
“Oh sorry,” Roger apologized when she was done picking up fruit.
When he looked closer, it was suddenly quite obvious who this woman was and Roger wasn’t quite sure how to act. Jelena Ristic, a girl he’s seen a dozen times in the stands, and brushed shoulders with at many events in the industry. Novak’s on and off girlfriend, or so the media claims, and Roger couldn’t help but wonder if they were supposedly on right now and what that meant for him. Just the fact that he recognized her was astounding considering Roger wasn’t exactly aware of the other player’s personal lives. Roger didn’t even know his good friend Roddick was dating anyone until he got their wedding announcement. In the last four months, Novak never mentioned Jelena, let alone the status of their relationships, not that they really discussed things like that. It’s not like I talk about Mirka to him either, Roger reasoned. He looked at Jelena skeptically, sincerely hoping that he wasn’t about to have an altercation with a vengeful (ex?) girlfriend.
“Oh my fucking God!” she shouted, her flustered shock turning into excitement. Roger was jilted by the swearing at this time of day, mostly because he didn’t yet know why she was cursing at him. “It’s YOU!” she shouted, rapidly moving toward him. She looked offended when he shuffled back a few paces.
Roger smiled hesitantly. He was suddenly quite happy that he’d remembered to pull on some boxers before wandering around Novak’s place or this would have been sufficiently more awkward. “Um yes, it’s me,” Roger replied lamely as she looked him over. He fought the urge to scuttle over behind the countertop to hide himself from this stranger.
She regrouped. “Sorry. I went a little fan-girl on you. My name is Jelena. I’m a friend of Nole’s,” Jelena explained much more rationally and from her side of the kitchen. Roger nodded, he’d figured out that much already. He was relieved that she didn’t introduce herself as his girlfriend. “I live a couple apartments over. I come bearing breakfast,” she joked.
Roger smiled, relieved this woman wasn’t about to slap him for fucking her boyfriend. “Nice to meet you,” Roger said sheepishly, embarrassed by his overreaction and the state of his appearance.
“I thought I’d bring over some groceries too. Not that Novak cooks or anything. I think I’ve seen six different delivery boys this week already.”
“Don’t listen to her,” Novak’s voice came floating in from behind them. “I’m an excellent cook. Practically a chef,” he said, stretching dramatically as he yawned and wrapping his arm around Roger with a quick peck.
“You must be joking. I’ve seen you burn toast…in a toaster,” Jelena quipped, offering them the muffins she’d been arranging on a fancy plate.
Novak feigned offense. “You’re so friendly in the mornings, Jel. The customers must love you,” Novak said sarcastically.
“Morning? In what time zone is it still morning?! I’m just humoring you with the breakfast food. It’s past noon, babe.”
Roger tried not to flinch at the casual endearment. It was entertaining to listen to their banter, but also a little disconcerting. Their tone was different than Novak with Ana, not quite as sibling-like. There was something flirty about their interaction that put Roger on edge. The only thing that kept Roger from being downright jealous was Novak’s hand, gently stroking his back, knowing that it drives Roger crazy. He suddenly felt very uncomfortable wearing only boxers, which wouldn’t hide much of his growing arousal. Damn, Novak and his wandering hand, Roger inwardly cursed, trying to figure out a way to make a quick escape. Novak must’ve figured out that they had company because he had the good sense to pull on some pajama bottoms.
“I’m going to go put on some clothes,” Roger announced, reluctantly pulling away from Novak. He tried not to notice Jelena taking one last glance at his body before he left the room. It was odd for someone to make him feel so flattered, and yet jealous at the same time. Novak was less subtle, pulling him back for a kiss and openly groping his ass.
“Save the shower for later,” Novak suggested with a significant look. Roger knew eventually he’d have to learn how to say no to Novak, but with offers like that, he wasn’t about to start trying now.
----------------
Roger wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but he heard his name before he was even five paces away from the door, and nobody can resist hearing people talk about them.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me it was Roger fucking Federer! Here I was thinking your little visitor was some random guy on tour, or one of those Spaniards, they all seem a little bisexual. I even thought it was Murray, at least that would explain why you two aren’t BFF’s in public anymore. And this whole time you’ve been dating the face of professional tennis, the best of the best, the great champion!”
Roger blushed, even if nobody could see him.
“Have you ever considered going into advertising? That was pretty good,” Novak joked. Roger could imagine giving him a look. “I know I probably should’ve told you, but we couldn’t risk people finding out about us. It’s too…”
“Important?” Jelena suggested softly.
“Yeah, something like that,” Novak answered sheepishly. Roger felt little butterflies in his chest.
“So how inappropriate would it be for me to get his autograph,” Jelena said, changing the tone back to playful.
“Jel!”
“What? How many famous people have I seen in their knickers?”
Roger blushed again. He hoped she meant that he was the only one, and that she’d never seen Novak wearing so little.
“It doesn’t have to be a poster or a racket. That’s too obvious. Just something simple, like this mug.”
“Hey, that’s mine!” Novak shouted and Roger could imagine him grabbing it from her like a child.
“Did you seriously write your name on the bottom of that cup?” Jelena asked, seeming shocked and entertained.
“I’m convinced that cleaning lady steals my stuff when I’m gone. This will make it easier to catch her.”
“She does not steal anything. I’ve known Hilda for years. I wouldn’t let her come in here if I didn’t trust her.”
“Then where is my coffee-maker?”
“I don’t know, 1998?” Jelena sniped. “People have espresso machines now. Why would she want something so outdated?”
Roger laughed and walked away. He liked Jelena, she had spunk, and that same aggressive sense of humor that Novak has. He still couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to them than just a friendship between neighbors. Roger quickly rummaged through his bag to find decent clothes, throwing them on without much thought. He felt weird leaving Jelena alone with Novak too long. His straight side might come back out of the closet.
----------------------
“The great chef Novak will be cooking dinner for us on Thursday night,” Jelena announced when he returned to the kitchen. Jelena had her back to him, doing something near the stove while Novak was sitting in the breakfast nook watching the birds outside and eating. Roger felt silly for worrying. He didn’t expect to find them making out or anything, just maybe flirting like before, only more openly since he wasn’t around.
“It’s going to be awesome,” Novak promised, waving Roger over to sit with him. Roger smiled, wondering how much of this bad cook thing was a bluff. Surely someone must’ve taught Novak to cook, though Roger couldn’t really imagine Mrs. Djokovic in the kitchen, pancake restaurant or not.
“You haven’t told us what you’re making,” Jelena teased, putting the Serb on the spot.
“Well I can make spaghetti…or spaghetti,” Novak said, exhausting the menu options he is capable of.
“How about some spaghetti?” Roger suggested, playing along.
Novak smiled. “I’ll take that as a request. Spaghetti it is.”
“Lukas will love that,” Jelena said, unknowingly relieving Roger’s nerves. She has a boyfriend! “Should I invite your sister? I’m going into the hotel soon. I could track her down,” Jelena suggested.
“That’d be great,” Roger replied, happy to include Diana.
Jelena forced a plate of veggie omelets on them and Roger was amused by Novak’s protests. She claimed that the next time she saw his trainer; she wanted to be able to look him in the eyes and say she’s not a junk food enabler.
“Oh and Luk wants to go to the beach soon. He gets out at noon tomorrow. Are you guys busy?”
Novak looked over at Roger, asking his opinion. “I brought a suit,” he replied. “And I’ve never been to the beach here before.”
Jelena smiled. “Then it’s settled,” she said as she rushed out the door.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The first thing Roger noticed about Lukas wasn’t his sunny blond hair or his big blue eyes; it was his age, or really the lack of it. Lukas is actually a child, probably around seven years old, and definitely not Jelena’s boyfriend. The question is, if he isn’t her boyfriend, or even an appropriate aged friend, then who is he? Lukas seemed just as curious about him, though the way the boy sized him up was almost predatory.
From the moment Lukas jumped out of the car, he was stuck to Novak’s side like glue, leaving very little room for Roger. The boy looked up at him skeptically as he pushed his way between them and made it clear that Novak is his for the day. Novak gave him a feigned stern glare, but he was clearly too attached to Lukas to tell him no. Jelena unloaded various bags of beach toys and supplies from her car and recruited Novak and Lukas into carrying them to their spot on the beach. Roger helped her with the picnic basket and cooler.
“He’s my nephew,” she explained, sparing Roger the awkwardness of having to ask.
“That makes sense. I can’t imagine someone your age having a child. You would’ve had to have been…” Roger hesitated, wondering if it was rude to speculate.
“I was sixteen when he was born. My sister was twenty-two,” she offered.
“Does she live here too?” Roger asked as they walked across the sand.
“Not exactly. It’s kind of a long story,” she said, backing away from the subject.
“Well I’ve got plenty of time,” Roger said, spreading out a towel to lay on where the boys had left their stuff. He offered the place beside him to Jelena. “There’s no way I’m playing Frisbee,” he joked, nodding toward Novak and Lukas.
Jelena smiled and settled in to tell her story, obviously delighted by her famous audience. “Well my sister isn’t exactly the ideal parent. She never dropped him on his head or anything, but for most of his life, she’s been kind of absent.”
Roger didn’t seem too freaked out by the hint of neglect, so Jelena continued. “My sister became a flight attendant when she was eighteen, she met a pilot named Johan and within a year they were married. They seemed happy at first, but it wasn’t long before she started hearing rumors of him cheating. She was worried he would leave her. Instead of approaching him about the rumors, she decided to find a way to make sure he could never leave her. She got pregnant.
“It actually worked, for a while at least. They were a happy little family until Lukas was about three years old. Johan went back to work, but he would come home as much as possible, bringing Luke whatever he picked up along the way. They were good together, but then the rumors started again and Shelly rushed back to work to keep an eye on Johan. Lukas got dumped on a full time nanny.
“It took us a while to figure out the situation because every time we came to visit, Shelly made sure she was there playing the part of the perfect mother. Last year I was visiting a friend in Marseille and I took a train over here for a quick visit. That’s when I met the woman who had been taking care of my nephew the past couple of years. She said that Shelly hadn’t been there in over three months. That’s when I decided to pack up my life and move to Monte Carlo. I was only twenty-one, I didn’t know much about taking care of a kid, but Lukas deserved more than absentee parents and a permanent babysitter. A couple months later, I filed for guardianship.”
Roger smiled at her, genuine and bright, making the girl blush.
“What?” she asked.
“That’s a beautiful story,” Roger said sweetly. “And you’re amazing for doing that for him. Not everybody would be caring enough to give up their whole life for their family.”
Jelena laughed. “Oh stop it! You are making me blush. Compliments from Roger freaking Federer, this is definitely a highlight.”
“Highlight of what?”
“My life,” she said, as if it was obvious.
---------------------------------------------------
It wasn’t until lunch that Lukas disconnected from Novak long enough to wonder who Roger was, and even then, it probably had more to do with how closely they were sitting than genuine curiosity.
“Who are you?” Lukas asked bluntly in a tone that would seem rude from anyone other than a child.
“My name is Roger,” he answered simply in what he assumed was a child-friendly tone.
“Where did you come from?” the boy asked, and Roger looked at the others for help. He liked children just fine, but he was a bit out of practice talking to them.
Novak smiled and came to his rescue. “Roger is my friend, Luke. He’s staying with me for a couple of days,” the Serb explained, taking Roger’s hand into his own reassuringly.
“In your house?” Lukas asked excitedly.
“Yes, in my house,” Novak repeated, somehow managing to not sound condescending.
“He’s your friend, like Andy?” Lukas asked, stuffing his mouth with potato chips and hardly aware that he was treading on a touchy subject.
“Kind of like Andy, I guess,” Novak responded vaguely.
“Do you play tennis too?” Lukas turned to Roger, finally excited by his presence. It seems like he was finally warming up to the Swiss man. The adults shared a bit of a laugh at that one before Roger responded that yes, he plays tennis.
“I like tennis. In a couple years, I’m going to tennis school like Djordje. He said I could,” Lukas explained as if the matter was completely up to Djordje to decide.
“Maybe. You might get to go to the academy in a couple years,” Jelena interjected. Lukas ignored her.
“Djordje is my best friend,” he told Roger. “We watch tennis together. Nole plays tennis in front of like, one hundred people. We sit in a special box with saved seats for us. Everybody loves Novak and they cheer his name.”
“A hundred people? That’s pretty cool,” Roger responded amusedly, sharing a smile with Novak. “I didn’t know you were so popular,” Roger teased the Serb, earning him a playful shove.
Lukas watched them with curious eyes before asking, “Why does Roger sleep in your house, but Andy sleeps at the hotel?” Roger waited for one of the others to respond. He assumed that when Murray came to Monte Carlo he would stay at Novak’s place.
“Um,” Novak said, searching for a child-friendly answer. He looked at Jelena who shrugged, giving her permission to tell Lukas the truth, if only he could find a way to explain it. Lukas beat him to the punch.
“Is Roger your boyfriend?” Lukas asked, shocking them all.
“How do you know—?” Jelena asked.
“I’m not a baby,” he answered coldly. “Lorin from school told me that her dad has a boyfriend, so now she has two dads and a mom. And her new dad is teaching her how to surf. It’s really cool,” Lukas told them, as if they didn’t know.
Novak shrugged; grateful that little Lorin broke the news to Lukas so he didn’t have to. “Well since you already know. Roger is my boyfriend.”
“I knew it!” Lukas shouted triumphantly, knocking over everything near him in his excitement. Novak gave Jelena a look that said, “That is what you looked like yesterday.” She punched him in the arm for that.
“I’m going to have a boyfriend too,” Lukas informed them. “Girls are icky,” he said, turning to Roger, who found himself nodding in agreement before he stopped himself. Trust a seven year old to bring out your true feelings in ten minutes when it took you years to figure it out on your own.
“Nole, do you think that Djordje will be my boyfriend?” Lukas asked hopefully.
Novak looked sad for a moment. “You can’t tell Djordje about me and Roger, buddy. He can’t know I have a boyfriend.”
“Why not? He thinks girls are icky too. I think we should all have boyfriends.”
“Maybe we should,” Novak agreed casually, earning a glare from Jelena.
“Um, or maybe you should wait a couple of years before deciding that,” Novak advised, Jelena nodded her approval.
“How many years?”
“Five?” Novak suggested and Jelena elbowed him in the ribs. “He’ll only be twelve!” she whispered.
“More like ten,” Jelena answered.
“What? Then he’ll be seventeen!”
“That seems like a good age,” Jelena reasoned, failing to see the problem.
Novak shook his head, “Fifteen is reasonable, seventeen is ridiculous!”
“Fine, eight years,” she relented.
Lukas pouted. “Fine, but I’m going to pretend Djordje is my boyfriend. We’re going to play football and tennis and video games and watch movies and climb trees and play race cars,” Lukas declared. “What else do boyfriends do, Nole?”
Roger and Novak shared an uncomfortable, blushing smile. “Nothing,” they answered together and Jelena had to hide her giggle. “That’s about it,” Novak confirmed.
-----------------------------------------------------
Jelena and Lukas left the beach just as the sun started to fall in the sky, leaving Roger and Novak alone to enjoy the sunset. The picnic basket was still half full and there were plenty of drinks in the cooler, they could stay out there all night if they wanted. The moment was so peaceful that it had Roger thinking deep thoughts.
“I wasn’t always the person I am now either,” Roger announced softly, remembering Novak’s words from earlier, explaining his move to Monte Carlo.
Novak looked at him with curiosity, mostly because Roger was continuing a conversation from days ago as if it had just happened. “Really?” Novak responded skeptically. He’d always known Roger to be this perfect man who was all polite manners and charm, Novak couldn’t even imagine him as anything else.
“Well I’m sure you’ve heard that I was a bit of a hothead as a junior, but at that age, who isn’t?” Roger asked, giving Novak a poignant look that clearly said you were one too. “But that’s not what I meant. When I first joined the tour I was lucky enough to have success pretty soon. Within a year of going pro I was already making the semis and finals pretty regularly, and even holding my own against guys like Agassi. I started thinking I was invincible or something. Instead of preparing for matches, I’d go out partying. I even went into a match once without sleeping or even showering; I just changed clothes and went on court. I wasn’t even giving half my effort and I still managed to make the top twenty. But I wasn’t enjoying any of it. That whole period of my life is a blur. Reporters still ask me about my match with Sampras in 2001 and I barely remember it at all.”
Novak was shocked; he didn’t know all of this. Roger was just breaking through the ranks and becoming a young superstar when Novak started taking tennis seriously. It was crazy to think that when Roger was partying all night in clubs, Novak probably wasn’t even a teenager yet. It seems that tennis players might go through similar processes. Go pro, get famous, go crazy, settle down and actually play some good tennis. Maybe the going crazy was part of the career cycle.
“What made you change?” Novak asked carefully, knowing that people don’t just decide to stop that lifestyle, something significant has to happen.
“One night I was out partying and a phone call came. My coach, the one who discovered me and taught me everything I know, he was dead. I might’ve been a bit traumatized by that call. For the rest of my life, that is how I will remember hearing the news, in some random club with a bunch of boozy strangers. I was probably doing the same when he actually passed away. I just kept thinking he was the man who introduced me to tennis, taught me to love the game, and how a gentleman should act on court. I had lost all that at some point and his death put everything back in focus for me. I figured the best way to honor him was to be the man, and player, he always wanted me to be.”
“I’m sorry that happened,” Novak sympathized. He never knew about this side of Roger, or heard this story about his coach. It must’ve happened while N was still training at the academy in Germany. They never let him think about anything other than the game there.
“Me too. I used to think it was my fault. I convinced him to go on that trip. He was scared but I talked him into it. I spent my twenty-first birthday making funeral arrangements for my dead friend, all that time thinking I’d killed him,” Roger paused and Novak just let him think.
“I don’t think of it like that anymore. I think of all he’s done for me and how thankful I am that he came into my life. I wouldn’t have made it out of Switzerland without him. Every time someone compliments me on my manners or what a gentleman I am, or speaks kindly of me, I feel like its honoring him.”
“That’s a beautiful story,” Novak commented. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”
Roger smiled.
“I’m surprised I haven’t heard it before with all those biographies out there in the works.”
“True. Most of them acknowledge the sudden change in behavior, but don’t know what to attribute it to. Who knows, it’ll be years before they can publish those. Maybe they’ll figure it out by then.”
They were quiet for a while, the soft sound of the waves lulling them into companionable silence. Novak didn’t even know his fingers were moving until Roger’s hand covered his to stop the movement. These light touches never failed to drive Roger crazy and he admitted as much.
“You’re driving me crazy,” Roger whispered breathily.
“Well, I’d hate for you to turn into a crazy person,” Novak said smartly, earning him a look that read “stop being a smartass.”
“What do you suggest we do then?” Novak asked, his hand teasing lower and really getting Roger going.
Roger looked around the beach nervously. They hadn’t actually seen anyone out here for over an hour, and even then they were so far of f in the distance that they were basically little blurbs of colorful spandex. “Out here?”
“Why not?” Novak asked seductively, kissing his way up Roger’s bicep and moving on top of the Swiss man.
“Someone could see us! And if they did manage to get a picture, I don’t think any government could stop it from going public,” Roger said, trying to muster up some sort of firmness on the issue, but realizing his protests were half-assed at best.
“If someone happened to see, if they figured out who we are, if they got a picture, if they got it past the government,” Novak said, punctuating each point with a kiss. “That’s a whole lot of if’s.”
Roger knew that as well as anybody. Most of their lives were left up to chance, but he didn’t have the same boldness in his spirit that Novak did.
“We don’t have to,” Novak said, climbing off Roger, breaking them out of the moment and back to reality. He sounded disappointed, but not at all resentful. Who said he was a brat who couldn’t stand not getting his way? Roger thought, feeling the selfless nature of the Serb even in this simple situation.
“Oh no you don’t,” Roger said, pulling Novak back over him, the Serb straddling his hips. “You don’t get to back out after you’ve got me all worked up like that,” Roger said, loving the bright happy smile he got in return. It’s not that Novak always had to get his way; Roger just couldn’t stand being the person to deny him. Besides, a little adventure every now and then wouldn’t kill him. What’s the worst that could happen? So what if someone got pictures of them, it’s not like he would play his matches any differently, and he’d always have Novak, and knowing that made everything risk worth overcoming.
Novak smiled and started undoing Roger’s swim shorts, taking his time as Roger squirmed underneath him. Once they were unfastened, Roger practically bucked Novak off of him to slide them down his legs. He wasn’t fond of Novak’s teasing pace. Novak smirked, amused by Roger’s excitement. Novak slid his own Speedo off seductively and with all the grace in the world, ensuring that Roger couldn’t look away or be mad at him, even if he wanted. Roger nearly shouted when Novak walked off and started digging through the bag that Jelena had left.
Just as he was about to ask, not very nicely, what the hell was in that bag that was more important than what they were doing, Novak returned to him, holding a condom and a tube of sunscreen. Roger smirked, wondering if Jelena had left that bag with them intentionally. Novak smiled and moved over him again, bringing their lips together and letting his hands explore Roger’s body underneath him. When they pulled away, Novak looked at the tube of lotion apprehensively.
“It was all I could find,” he explained as he squirted the greasy lotion over his fingers. To their surprise, it was purple. Not only were they left with sunscreen as their only lube option, it was bright, berry scented, purple, children’s sunscreen.
Novak laughed at the ridiculousness of it as he coated his fingers and snaked his arm behind him and started to prep himself. They had never done it this way, Roger thought. He was always the one to stretch Novak, and as much as he missed that feeling, in some ways this was much hotter. He wondered if Novak had ever done this before, and couldn’t help his mind from imagining the Serb doing this while pleasuring himself and decided that he might ask Novak to get off like this front of him sometime.
Roger decided to make himself useful, which basically meant slipping on a rubber and spreading some of the obnoxious sunscreen onto himself. Roger told himself he was just rubbing in the lotion to speed things along, but really, he couldn’t keep his hand away from his cock while watching Novak who had his eyes twisted shut as he flexed his fingers and tugged on his cock.
Roger knew the exact moment Novak’s fingers brushed his bundle of nerves. His eyelids twitched over his eyes and a shiver ran through his whole body. His legs probably would’ve collapsed underneath him if not for Roger holding him up.
“I’m ready,” he breathed and Roger pulled him in for a kiss as they moved into a comfortable position.
“Is it okay like this?” Novak asked, since he’d never been on top like this before.
“Perfect,” Roger said, letting Novak take the lead and set their pace.
Novak lowered himself on Roger’s length slowly, letting each inch stretch him like his fingers never could. Roger fought the urge to thrust up, the feeling of tightness heightened in this position and overwhelming him. Roger focused on kissing Novak and stroking his cock, anything to keep his hips at bay. He couldn’t believe how much tighter Novak felt in this position, especially compared to how a woman would feel.
Novak moaned as the last bit slipped inside him, filling him completely. He flexed his muscles, caressing Roger’s cock from inside. Roger let out an ungraceful ‘ugh’. Novak kissed him passionately, smiling at how he can reduce one of the most eloquently articulate men in the world to mere grunts.
“Feels amazing,” Roger whispered into his cheek.
“You have no idea,” Novak replied, giving his cock one last squeeze before pulling almost all the way out. He moved faster after that, bouncing up and down, Roger meeting him at every thrust. It was harder to find Novak’s prostate at this angle, but once Roger found it he aimed for it every time, loving the shiver he could feel pass through Novak’s body each time they connected. Just as Roger was beginning to feel his orgasm approaching, he felt Novak’s muscles spasm around him, ripping it from him.
Novak collapsed forward onto his chest and Roger wrapped his arms around him. He kissed his cheek sweetly and cherishing the moment as his ears began adjusting back to the soft sound of the waves breaking on the shore, finally able to hear more than his heartbeat and the sound of them coming together. They had sex on the beach, Roger still couldn’t believe it.
“I don’t want to get up,” Novak said after a while, and if not for the chilly night breeze, Roger would’ve totally agreed with him.
Roger laughed. “We might’ve been lucky enough not to be spotted tonight, but we’d be pretty hard to miss tomorrow. I’m sure some runner would come over here while we’re sleeping and think we’re dead bodies washed up on the beach.”
“Well that’s pleasant,” Novak said jovially. “Then someone would definitely take pictures. How often do naked bodies wash up on the beach?”
“Probably more often than you’d think.”
“Okay fine, I’ll get up,” Novak relented; sliding Roger’s softened cock out of him carefully. “But only because I have no interest in being photographed like this,” he announced, indicating the purple lotion that had somehow found its way all over his body and the sand that was beginning to cling to it.
“I guess one more dip in the ocean is in order,” Roger suggested, noticing that he had not been spared from the purple mess either.
“I’ll race you there,” Novak said playfully, taking off in a full sprint.
Roger was only a second behind him, anticipating the challenge as soon as they stood up. Novak may be several years younger, but Roger was in much better shape, at least according to John McEnroe and Brad Gilbert, but they’ve never seen Novak like this.
--------------------------------------------
They pulled on their clothes quickly after toweling off, the chilly breeze feeling much colder after drenching themselves in water. Roger was amused when Novak skipped the Speedo altogether and pulled on his cargo shorts, explaining, “I can’t go walking around in that at this time of night. People might get the wrong idea.”
Roger nodded in agreement. As much as he loved Novak in the Speedo there was no denying that away from the beach, wearing only that suit, he might have looked like a stripper.
When they got to the place where the beach met the street, near the car park where they met up with Jelena earlier, Roger noticed a fairly obvious sign that he had somehow missed before.
“Private Beach property?” Roger asked incredulously. Novak just smirked. Underneath those words were two more, Novak Djokovic.
“You mean that whole time, nobody was allowed to come near us—by law?”
“They could walk along the shore. I don’t own the water,” Novak replied smartly.
“But you let me worry about people discovering us when we were safe the whole time?”
“What is life without a little perceived danger?” Novak answered innocently, but he couldn’t keep the smile away. “I was going to tell you, but then you said yes anyway.”
Roger smiled back, not happy about being tricked, but happy he let himself be free, daring, even if he was safe all along.
“You really are a jerk,” Roger said, giving the Serb a playful shove.
“I think you mean the Djerk,” Novak corrected, for once not minding that name.
-------------------------------------------------------------
It turns out that Novak’s version of spaghetti is ready-made, boil-and-serve pasta, and store-bought sauce. Roger laughed when Novak picked up these items and headed for the register.
“She’s going to know if it’s all store-bought,” Roger claimed.
“I never said I could make it from scratch,” Novak reasoned innocently.
“Go get a basket,” Roger directed, smiling at the adorableness of Novak’s lack of culinary talent as he put the processed items back on the shelf. It amazed him that anyone could get to Novak’s age without learning how to cook something. When Novak returned, Roger had an armful of ingredients, all of which he explained to the Serb as he placed them in the basket.
“The pasta can stay. Nobody makes their own pasta anymore, except really authentic Italian grandmothers,” Roger joked. “It’s a pain to make the dough, and honestly, I don’t taste the difference.
“The bread is easy too. You just get a loaf from the bakery, smear on some butter and garlic salt and toast it.”
“Why are you telling me all this?” Novak asked, surprised by Roger’s willingness to share in the silly bet.
“Because you are still making dinner,” said Roger, smirking. Novak looked over the ingredients in the cart, confident that he didn’t know what to do with any of them. “I’ll help, of course, but you’ll feel so much better if you can prove Jelena wrong without lying.”
Novak kissed him sweetly. “Thank you,” he said with a shy smile.
“For what?”
“Teaching me to cook something. Nobody has ever bothered, they just tell me how bad I am at it.”
“Well, don’t thank me yet, I haven’t seen how hopeless you are yet,” Roger joked.
------
As they were walking home, a little brown fluff ball started following them. When Novak noticed their follower, he broke off a small piece of bread and called for the dog to move closer. He made all sorts of whistling and kissy noises, but the dog just stared at him blankly. Then he tried talking to it, to Roger’s infinite amusement.
“Viens ici, chien!”
“Viens chiot!”
“Ici cher!”
When he said cher, the little dog trotted over. Roger laughed at him for speaking French to the dog.
“What? People mostly speak French around here. Why wouldn’t he understand?”
“You know if you give that dog food, it’ll follow us home,” Roger cautioned him.
Novak smiled, “I’ve never had a dog,” he said innocently. “And this one doesn’t have a collar.”
“Jelena is going to kill you,” Roger said, leaning down to pet the pup. “Tu es mignon.”
“I’ll just tell her it’s for Luk. She wouldn’t take a dog away from a child,” Novak defended, though he didn’t look quite certain.
----------------------------
Roger watched the tomato sauce as it simmered, smelling the delicious aroma. He was looking forward to seeking the look on Jelena’s face when she tastes it.
“Roger!” Novak yelled from the bathroom where he was attempting to wash the dog they found. There was no way Jelena would let any animal near Lukas if it was covered in dirt with knotted hair. Roger ran over to find Novak drenched in water and soapy bubbles, holding the dog triumphantly in the air. “This dog is white!”
Roger laughed, looking into the murky brown bathwater, grabbing a towel and taking the wet dog from Novak’s hands. Novak was right, it was no longer the beige color from before, it was now pristinely white. “Now he looks like a snowball,” Roger commented as he patted the water from the dog’s back.
Novak looked down at himself and the foul-looking water under his feet. “I don’t have time to shower, do I?” Novak asked, wiping off the clumps of soap bubbles that had attached themselves to his arms and shirt.
Roger shrugged. “There are worse things to be covered in than soapy bubbles,” he said, holding back a laugh. He tossed a towel to Novak and chased the half-dry dog into the kitchen where he couldn’t get anything too wet.
--------------
“What the hell are you doing?” Novak asked as he walked into the kitchen, finding Jelena digging through the trash. “You said you were getting more wine.”
“I’m just trying to figure out how you did it. I’m seriously impressed,” Jelena said.
Novak blushed. “Roger might’ve helped,” he admitted.
“I knew it!”
“He didn’t actually make anything, he just told me how,” Novak defended.
“He taught you?” Jelena asked with wide excited eyes.
“Just one dish. It’s not like I’m some great cook now or something,” Novak said, trying to be casual.
“Oh my God! You totally love him!” she practically squealed.
“Shh,” Novak insisted, nodding toward the door. “Don’t you dare tell,” he warned dramatically in a stern tone, but he could hardly keep from smiling.
“Why would I tell him? You have to, of course!”
“No way, I don’t—” Novak defended, not finding the words. “You can’t just love someone after three months.”
“Uh huh,” Jelena said, skeptically.
“Damn,” Novak said, finally realizing how deep he was in.
---------
“I am truly impressed,” Diana admitted over wine and dessert. “You’ve only had him two years and there is no sign of abandonment issues or insecure attachments.”
“Um, thank you?” Jelena accepted the compliment, but she didn’t entirely know what Diana meant.
The Swiss woman smiled. “I just mean, under those circumstances, being separated from parental influence for so long, a kid could come out of it pretty screwed up. Lukas seems pretty well-adjusted and dare I say it, normal,” Diana observed as they watched him try to teach the pup to fetch.
“That’s what I was going for,” Jelena commented. “Any chance a kid his age could actually care for a dog?” she added, glaring at Novak.
“Sense of responsibility is fairly well developed by seven. If the commitment is there, sure,” she advised.
“Viens, Pierre,” Lukas said, bringing the dog in the house. Jelena rolled her eyes.
“Pierre, huh?” Novak asked with a raised brow at Jelena.
“Yeah, like the fireman,” Lukas explained simply.
Jelena laughed. “Pierre is my ex boyfriend. I think Lukas liked the rides on the fire truck more than I actually liked the guy.”
“Pierre’s not a bad one, better than our name,” Roger said.
“What was yours?” Diana asked.
“Nole was calling him Cher.”
Jelena and Diana erupted in laughter, not bothering to explain.
“What’s wrong with that?” Novak asked. “It’s the only thing he answered to.”
Diana laughed. “You guys are so gay. Who names a dog after Cher?”
---------------------------------------------
Roger collapsed onto the bed, shrugging off his clothes and slipping under the covers. He never thought getting noticed by a crowd and trying to be casual while tourists played paparazzi would be so exhausting. He could hear Novak in the shower, but for once he didn’t feel like joining. Keeping your balance on the slick surfaces of the shower was actually required a fair amount of effort, which he was usually more than willing to contribute, but not on days as long as this one had been. He did intend on staying awake until Novak emerged from the shower, at least to announce that he was back and say hi, but Roger couldn’t stay awake with the comforting patter of the shower in the next room lulling him to sleep.
He knew he couldn’t have been sleeping long when the soft click of a door opening roused him awake, but Roger felt rather rested for the short amount of time. Novak must’ve seen him sleeping because he was obviously trying to be quiet, not even yelling out when he stubbed his toe in the dimly lit room. Roger’s eyes were adjusted to the minimal lighting by now and he could see Novak perfectly in the bluish moonlight streaming in through the windows and the yellow stream of light coming from the bathroom. The Serb had a towel securely fastened around his waist as he dug through the closet. If he was going through laundry anywhere as fast as Roger was, he might have trouble finding any underwear. It seems like every time they try to get dressed for the day, they end up stripping down by noon anyway. Novak seemed to come to a similar conclusion as he gave up for the moment and started to towel off.
All those who say tennis players are not muscular clearly haven’t seen Novak stretching in the moonlight. He wasn’t ripped like Nadal, but there was a certain beauty to Novak’s lean but solid frame. The toned muscles of his back rippled with the effort of drying off and the light sheen of water covering his body added a lovely glow. Roger felt like a creep for watching, but it almost seemed like Novak was putting on a show for him. The way he bent forward to rub down his legs, just barely parting the cheeks of his ass, but not quite showing anything. Roger felt his cock throb in response, begging for attention. He let his hand slip into his boxers and stroke himself. He figured, if anyone was allowed to watch Novak like this, it was his boyfriend.
Roger’s eyes fell closed when he worked himself near the edge. He might’ve looked asleep if not for the frantic motion of his hand beneath the sheets. Novak fell into his place on the bed, enjoying the startled look on Roger’s face and how quickly he stopped his movements when he was caught.
“When did you know I was awake?” Roger asked as Novak greeted him with chaste kiss.
“I didn’t for sure. If I looked it would’ve ruined the effect, and if you were asleep I’d have felt awful silly,” Novak replied playfully.
“Well I’m certainly awake now,” Roger said, his breathing not quite evened out.
“Yeah, you’re definitely awake,” Novak said, cupping his hand over Roger’s hard cock.
“Yeah,” Roger moaned his agreement, which ended up sounding a bit more like, “ugh.”
Novak smiled deviously and Roger only had to wonder for a moment at what Novak was thinking. The Serb slid the sheets down Roger’s body and breathed over his length. Roger felt his cock twitch in anticipation. Novak started slow with teasing licks until Roger was little more than a squirming mass beneath him.
“More,” Roger pleaded, twisting his fingers through Novak’s short hair but never pushing.
Novak smiled, giving up the game and giving Roger what he wanted.
It wasn’t long until Roger was on the edge, just when the Swiss man was about to let go, Novak pulled away, wrapping his fingers tightly around the base of his shaft. Roger looked up at him with wide, desperate eyes.
“Do you want my mouth or to fuck?” he questioned bluntly.
Roger’s eyes nearly rolled back in his head at the suggestion, but he was torn. Mouth would be immediate and he really wanted a quick release, but he knew fucking Novak would give him a better orgasm and get them both off, hell just thinking about it nearly sent him over.
“Let’s fuck,” Roger mumbled.
Novak smiled, clearly getting the answer he wanted. After all this teasing, he was hard too and he really wanted more than a hand job. Novak climbed off of Roger and emptied the drawer of supplies, handing them to Roger. He started to lie down on his back, but Roger kept him upright, redirecting him with a smile. Novak was kneeling when Roger pushed his shoulders forward so that the Serb was balancing most of his weight on his hands and the rest on his knees. Roger moved behind him, their bodies melting together seamlessly. Roger kissed the back of his neck and ran his hands over the same back muscles he was admiring earlier.
Roger kissed his way down Novak’s back, relishing the little moans he received when he found a particularly sensitive spot. He traced the line of Novak’s backbone with his tongue, feeling a shiver shake through the Serb when he got near his backside. Curious, Roger did it again, daring to go a bit lower and found Novak very receptive.
Roger remembered reading about this on that website months ago, but it had never really crossed his mind to try it. He remembered thinking it was a little gross back then, and even now he probably wouldn’t be considering it if Novak hadn’t just come out of the shower, but for some reason he really wanted to try it now. In the past, they’ve always fucked face to face. From the very first time Roger suspected it was a trust issue more than an intimacy one. He wanted to try it like this after watching Novak from behind, and he hope that rimming wouldn’t be taking it too far.
It was the kind of thing that you wouldn't think about doing, it doesn't come up in your fantasies or dreams, but then there is a moment when you find yourself so turned on by the idea that only a no from your partner would banish the thought. That is how Roger found himself hesitantly licking at his boyfriend's wrinkled flesh. He probably wouldn't have been this brave if Novak hadn't just come from the shower, the heavy scent of soap still coated his skin. If Roger was at all unsure, his doubts were crushed when Novak moaned and pushed against his hesitant tongue, reaching his arm back to connect with Roger somehow. The Swiss man held his hand as he stretched Novak's hole with his tongue.
Roger couldn't get nearly as deep, and he wondered how effective this method of preparation truly was, but he had to admit it was hot. If any doubts of his sexuality remained, Roger must've crushed them because there is nothing more gay than sticking your tongue in a guy's ass, actually the fact that he wanted to do it without being asked might be slightly more gay. Roger slipped in a finger alongside his tongue and reached as far as he could, circling gently, as gracefully as he could.
As much as he liked exploring this new sexual medium, Roger was getting painfully hard again and he'd been waiting a long time to get off. He licked his way up Novak's back and sucked on the Serb’s neck, vaguely aware he was leaving a mark. "You ready, baby?" he asked, and Novak panted a "God, yes."
Novak moved to lay flat on his stomach, but Roger pulled him up so they were kneeling on the bed, their bodies melding together. He could get so close to Novak like this, every part of their skin touching and he could feel the tight muscles in the Serb's back. Roger could feel his uncertainty, just a slight tremble that ran through him, but when Roger placed a reassuring hand on the small of his back, the Serb relaxed, trusting him completely.
Roger kissed along Novak's neck and shoulders as he slipped on a condom and liberally applied the lube, vaguely noticing that this once new bottle was almost empty. He slipped in carefully, very aware that switching up the position took away some of his acquired skill and knowledge. He didn't know if it would feel differently for Novak this way, so he waited until Novak was pushing back against him to move.
Roger kissed along Novak's back and he thrust into the Serb, enjoying the hands free nature of this position, everything just seemed to fit. He ran his arms down Novak's tense arms and found his hands twisted in the sheets. Roger placed his hands over Novak's, intertwining their fingers as he maneuvered to find Novak's lips. They had left enough of the covers beneath Novak so that he could get a fair amount of friction on his cock while Roger pushed into him. It was more difficult to balance this way, but Roger felt like he was getting deeper, touching places in Novak he'd never felt before. And the slight curve of his length seemed to line up favorably to Novak's prostate. It wasn't long before they were coming, Roger first, still sensitive from all the teasing and his most recent masturbatory dream coming true moments after he'd thought it, followed by Novak a couple of strokes later.
Roger collapsed, trying his best to roll to the side with his tired muscles. Novak was in a similar state, panting it out with a blissful look on his face.
"That was amazing," he said softly, kissing the tip of Roger's nose as their heads shared a pillow.
"Unbelievable," Roger agreed happily. It is times like this when the Swiss man was so consumed with happiness that he thinks nothing will ever rival it, only to be disproved days later by something else Novak does. There's a word for that, Roger thought vaguely, pulling Novak closer to him as they drifted off to sleep.
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On his last day in Monte Carlo, Roger woke relatively early, at least in comparison to the late mornings he’d grown accustomed to this past week. It seems like Novak was feeling less lethargic as well because when Roger looked out the large class doors of the balcony, he could see the Serb lounging against the banister, soaking up the sun and enjoying the view. Roger untangled himself from the covers and joined him.
It looked pleasant enough outside and from Novak’s state of undress, Roger assumed he would be just fine in only his boxers as well.
“It’s freezing out here!” Roger announced dramatically as he slid the door closed behind him, earning him a half laugh from Novak and a tail wag from Pierre, who was lying on a welcome mat Novak had ironically placed on his third floor terrace.
It’s not that bad, at least for January it’s not,” Novak corrected, opening his arms for Roger to hug him for warmth. Roger agreed. It couldn’t be lower than 60 degrees, but it never got very cold in Monte Carlo and he wasn’t expecting it.
“It does feel rather chilly,” Novak admitted as Roger rubbed the goose bumps on his arms. Though I’m not sure we’re in the best state to judge the weather,” Novak added playfully. “Not many temperature readings are gathered in only underwear.”
“Probably not,” Roger agreed, moving to embrace Novak from behind so they could both enjoy the twinkling effect the sun had on the water as it inched up the sky. Roger wrapped his arms around Novak’s waist, pressing their bodies together and resting his chin on Novak’s shoulder. They were comfortable here in the morning quiet, and the world felt peaceful.
Roger found himself thinking along a path he didn’t usually care to venture: the future.
Roger has always lived in the present. In this match, this meeting, this interview, this moment. He didn’t look ahead to the next tournament until he was done with the current one and he never looked ahead, expecting a grand slam to go a certain way. . For all Roger knew, his career could be over tomorrow and that is what he hated thinking about most, what was a great champion to do after he’d been dethroned for good?
He couldn’t help but feel sad that one day he wouldn’t be a part of the tennis world, the very thing that had occupied his life wholly for the past two decades would be in his past. Roger never had thoughts of what he would do when that day came; he left those unpleasant thoughts to Mirka, who had already dealt with her own fall into insignificance.
Mirka had plans for them, Roger knew that well. She wanted marriage and babies, hopefully in time to watch their father play while he’s still important. Then they would retire to some handsome estate in Switzerland and live as simply as two such elegant and sophisticated people could manage. And most of all, she wanted to find some way to keep them relevant and famous for the rest of their lives. It all felt so contrived, and if he was really honest with himself, it didn’t feel like a life he could be happy living.
That is why Roger was surprised to find himself dreaming of more mornings like this, simple and lovely, so contentedly comfortable together. It felt effortless and natural. He could imagine them just like this in a month, or a year, or maybe even five years down the road. Just staring out into the horizon, he thought about waking up to this view every morning. And after seeing how naturally good with children Novak is, Roger could imagine them building a life together, a family. Standing there with Novak, he could picture them always being like this, and for the first time in many years, Roger didn’t fear the future. If the future meant being with Novak, he welcomed it. To Roger, this felt like forever.
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When Enemies Attract