Adult-FanFiction.org : Celebrity

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
- 3
- 4
- 5
Chapter 4
After the text conversation on the plane, Roger and Novak found something to talk about each day. It was little things, usually starting with a generic “hey what’s up” or “how are you?” Novak told him about his brother’s birthday and their silly family traditions. Federer spoke of his new hitting partner, a hot headed junior who reminded him greatly of the Serb when he was younger. Roger was sure he hadn’t used his cell phone this much in a month ever, or enjoyed texting so much. Mirka occasionally got suspicious of his recent phone activity, glaring at him as he typed away during sponsorship meetings or checked his phone during a practice session. She dared to ask him once who he was talking to all the time. Roger lied, telling her Rafa instead of Novak, whom the public still believes him to be at odds with. She accepted that answer happily, probably relieved that he wasn’t chatting up some girl. Roger felt guilty for lying, not that talking to Novak should be any different than talking to Rafa, but somehow it was different.
They didn’t see each other again until the Pacific Life Open. Roger was in the player’s lounge on the highest level of the stadium, overlooking court one. He found Nadal almost immediately and they ordered drinks together, non-alcoholic of course. Andy Roddick joined them with fresh Davis Cup match stories for their enjoyment. The American team always seems to be up to some mischief, no doubt due to troublemakers Andy Roddick and Mike Bryan. Novak walks in with Andy Murray on his side, an aura of smugness surrounding them as they spoke quietly. Novak eventually noticed his new friend sitting across the room, catching his eye and offering a sly smirk. Roddick noticed the gesture, commenting irritably, “Of all the people to win a Slam, did it have to be that arrogant prick?”
Federer smiled to himself, but nodded in agreement, as far as Andy knows they hate each other.
“His attitude is off, but the play is there,” Rafa added, taking a neutral viewpoint.
Apart from that meeting, Roger only saw the Serb in passing. They had agreed to lay off the texting during mutually-entered tournaments, not wanting friendship to get in the way of competition. It wasn’t until the quarterfinal round that they met in the locker room. Roger had just found out that his opponent, Tommy Haas, had withdrawn upon arrival that morning citing injury. Roger ran into Stanislas Wawrinka as he was packing up his things to leave.
“Roger, hello!” his compatriot said brightly.
“Hey Rink,” Federer replied. “You playing today?”
“Yeah, I’ve had a good draw so far…” Wawrinka said, nervously explaining how he made it so far. He was not nearly as talented on court as Roger, his occasional doubles partner. Roger almost always made the finals and Stanislas usually only made it to the quarters, his current round in this tournament, though occasionally making appearances in the semis. It was strange talking to Roger about tournaments sometimes, how can he be appropriately confident if Roger was still competing?
“It takes more than a good draw to get to the quarters, Rink. You’re doing good,” Roger said, effectively restoring his friend’s confidence.
“Thanks. Have you played your quarters yet?” Wawrinka asked, knowing Federer was scheduled to play that day.
“Speaking of lucky, Haas withdrew this morning. I’m through to the semis,” Roger said, as casually as he could manage. He knew his friend had fought hard to get to the quarters, whereas he had coasted, and now Roger is lucky enough to get a bye into the semifinals.
“Lucky lucky. So you’re free for the day?” Stanislas asked, slightly jealous.
“Yes. I don’t really know what to do with myself,” Roger joked.
“You could watch my match, if you’d like. Might come across one of us later in the tourney,” Wawrinka suggested. He knew Roger rarely attended other player’s matches apart from in a team setting, but it was worth asking since he didn’t seem to have other plans.
“Sure, sounds good,” Roger agreed. “I may watch from the lounge, though. It’s a bit hot outside.”
“Great,” Wawrinka said happily, knowing he would need all the support he could get.
“Who are you playing?” Roger asked. He hadn’t looked at that side of the draw yet, knowing it was pointless to predict results until the last rounds.
“Djokovic,” Wawrinka said simply. Roger nodded, feeling flushed all of a sudden. Stanislas’ coach pulled him away to go over last minute strategy, leaving Roger awkwardly hovering in the locker room.
“Roger,” a friendly voice said from behind him, a firm hand resting on his shoulder.
“Ah, Novak,” Roger said, turning around to find the Serb smiling brightly.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said, still smiling. “I heard about Haas, knee injury.”
“Yeah, they just told me,” Roger said, suddenly feeling out of place. He didn’t really have a reason to be hanging out in the locker room anymore.
Nalbandian’s camp came billowing through the room, nudging Novak and Federer into a smaller area of the room, conveniently hidden from the reporters who had just entered the room, desperate to ask Nalbandian about his match.
“Good thing they can’t see us here, our secret friendship would be ruined,” Novak joked. Roger smiled, but was distracted by other things, like how close he was standing to the Serb now and the crisp smell of soap that was radiating from the younger man.
“I haven’t seen you around much,” Novak said lightly. “Except that day in the lounge. I was going to come say hello, but I didn’t think Murray would fit in.”
“Why not?” Federer asked, knowing Novak was looking for him to ask that question.
“Well if I joined you guys, then it would be all the Grand Slam champions here at one table…and Murray. It seems you’re only friends with us Slam winners,” Novak said with a smirk.
“That’s not true!” Roger said defensively, but the look in his eyes said he was joking.
“Really, who do you know well that doesn’t have a slam?” Novak asked, moving closer with a competitive smirk.
“Um,” Roger thought carefully. Surely he knew someone that didn’t have a slam. Just as he was about to say Wawrinka, Novak spoke again, “Besides your compatriots.”
That made things more difficult for the number one player. He said hello to almost every player on the tour, whenever he saw them, but that was being polite, not friendship. It wasn’t that he didn’t like them, they didn’t try to get close to him. When he drew a blank, Roger admitted, “Okay so maybe I don’t have many non-Slam friends, but that isn’t my fault. It’s them who don’t talk to me.”
“I know,” Novak replied simply, smiling devilishly. “They’re all intimidated by the great Federer, that is, until they snatch a big one from him.”
Roger shook his head at the younger man, wondering how someone can be so insightful and arrogant at the same time. “Is that what it is?” Roger asked rhetorically, eyeing the Serb suspiciously.
“So what are your big plans for your free day?” Novak asked interestedly.
“Actually I have been invited to watch your match,” Roger said snidely, knowing not even the clever Novak would be expecting that.
“Oh, really? And you actually accepted. How odd,” the Serb said playfully.
“How is that odd?” Roger asked confusedly.
“You never watch matches live,” Novak said, only realizing afterwards what a creeper he sounded like. "Everyone knows that," he added quickly.
“Maybe not. But since it fits my schedule so nicely I thought I might as well,” Roger said lightly, noticing the embarrassed flush on his friend’s cheeks. Roger wasn’t bothered that he knew his habits, most players on tour did. For some reason he just attracted that kind of attention, the I-want-to-know-every-little-thing-he-does kind of attention. “It’s not often I can watch a match where no matter what my friend wins,” Roger said jokingly, making Novak smile proudly, only dampened slightly by Roger’s lack of assumption that he’ll win.
“True. I bet Stanislas will be wishing he hadn’t invited you later, I’m feeling a total shut-out,” Novak said confidently. Roger frowned for a moment at the Serb’s obvious arrogance, but reminded himself that it was just confidence taken way too far. It didn’t take long for the number one player to realize that it was a front that Novak put up, to keep himself mentally tough for matches, and for some reason it seemed to double around Roger, making him twice as annoyingly arrogant.
Roger found himself less bothered by his friend’s smugness, now that he knew why the Serb acted that way. Similar accusations had been made toward Federer by players on tour, though the Swiss man certainly had a lot more reason to act that way, dozens of trophies worth of reasons. Novak startled the older man from his thoughts with a question out of the blue. “Have you been to the trainer today?” Novak asked in a worried tone.
Roger was just as stunned by the man’s concern as he was by the sudden question. “I stopped in for a short visit before my match, which didn’t actually happen. How did you know?”
“I can smell that cream they always use, the one that burns,” Novak said, sniffing in the air around him.
“Yeah. They put it all over my back,” Roger said, as casually as he could manage, considering he had just been told he smells like Icy Hot.
“Are you hurt?” Novak asked, still seeming unusually anxious about Federer’s health.
“I hope not. It’s just a bit of a twinge,” Roger said honestly. It had been bothering him for the past couple of days, but it was more of a discomfort than pain.
“Well I hope it gets better so we can play in the finals,” Novak said with his overbearing confidence obviously still intact.
“Right,” Roger said awkwardly. “Let’s hope.” He wasn’t used to players wishing him good health. Other than Rafa, most players would be wishing him an awful disease that took him out permanently. He may be regarded as one of the most likeable guys on tour, but that doesn’t mean they like him around on the court.
Novak’s manager started saying his name loudly, forcing him out of hiding. “I guess it’s about warm up time. Will you be in Wawrinka’s box?” Novak asked, referring to allotted space each player got for their friends and family, or coaches and managers, each match.
“No, from the lounge,” Roger replied, wondering vaguely why Novak wanted to know.
“Cool,” Novak said, gathering his stuff to leave. Roger reached out his hand, preparing for a good luck handshake, but the Serb pulled him into a hug. “Good luck,” Roger said awkwardly as the younger man briefly held onto him with his tennis backpack dangerously close to hitting Roger in the face.
“Thanks, Fedi,” Novak said kindly before walking away quickly to acknowledge his panicking manager, leaving Roger to wonder when Novak had given him that nickname.
--------------------------------------------------------
Roger was amazed at the effort the Serbian was putting forth. He had an awful habit of playing lazy when his opponent was beneath him skill-wise, and even then he had a bored persona that flipped on, yawning whenever possible like he’d rather be sleeping, drawling his words rudely. That player wasn’t here today. Novak was respectable, likeable, even applauding a few excellent shots by his opponent. Federer’s one complaint with him was that every time he made an awesome shot, the Serb would do his “come on!” as usual, but instead of looking over at his opponent, he would look up to the players’ lounge, where he knew Roger was sitting. Luckily the commentators were clueless. They claimed that “Djokovic looks like he’s ready to take a break from this heat, grab an icy drink from the player’s lounge, eh?” They couldn’t see Roger through the tinted windows of the lounge, but somehow Novak knew exactly where he was sitting, and if not for the shadowed glass they would have made eye contact each time the Serb looked up.
The match was fairly short, Novak had won easily in straight sets like he predicted, though Wawrinka had managed to take him to a tiebreak for the first. Roger missed the last bit of the match, but he watched it on his phone as he rode to a dinner-meeting with his camp. They didn’t mention the player’s box again, though Novak obviously took a long glance up there after he won. Roger felt a flutter inside when he saw this, knowing somehow that Novak won that match for him.
Roger reluctantly told his camp about his back problems, which weren’t aided much by the trainer’s treatment. It was concerning for the group, considering something like that could easily lose him the tournament, it was only best two sets out of three. There was no recovery time, like there were in Slams. After that unpleasant news, Roger felt freed from a little burden. If he didn’t win this tournament, at least he’d know part of that was due to his ailing back. By the time dessert came around Roger was quite happy, knowing that this stressful meeting that he was dreading all day actually went alright, tentatively admitting to himself that Novak might have something to do with his good mood as well.
As soon as Roger thought the Serb’s name, his phone buzzed in his slacks as if on cue. Roger hesitantly dug in his pocket for the cell, pulling it out smoothly, but keeping it hidden under the table. He daringly flipped it open and read it while the others were enjoying dessert. “If Stan wanted to win he shouldn’t have given me an audience worth impressing =]” Novak wrote playfully. Roger smiled widely, though quickly flattened his features out into an indifferent stare when his manager looked over at him expectantly, apparently he had asked something…
Roger couldn’t send a response until he was in the car going back to the hotel. It was just Mirka with him in the taxi and she was chatting with her mother on the phone. Even though his girlfriend was distracted, Roger still hid his phone behind his leg to type, furthest away from Mirka’s casually prying eyes. “Hey rule-breaker, he at least made you play a tiebreaker =P”
Mirka wrapped up her conversation, which was getting a little heated anyway. She turned to Roger and asked him again who he had been talking to, knowing that he almost never texted other players during tournaments. “Tiger” Roger replied, referring to his good friend Tiger Woods. “He’s just trash talking. Has a golf game tomorrow and he thinks he will do better in his then I will in mine.”
It was a believable lie, and Mirka seemed to happily accept it. She liked his friendship with Tiger, especially liked it as his manager. The story seemed to entertain people, two great players of different sports coming together, supporting each other, appearing together in public. Roger was almost wishing he hadn’t mentioned it to her, considering she had that look on her face like she was planning something, probably some shared sponsorship deal where they would have to do photo shoots together or make commercials. It wasn’t that he didn’t like those things, they brought in just as much money as these smaller tournaments, if not more, but it was annoying that they couldn’t even have a conversation without her switching into manager mode and him…lying to her about a secret friend. Some relationship they had.
“6-2 in the second makes up for it =/” Novak replied. Roger was dying to look at his phone, to read the message, but Mirka was watching him now, calculating. There were only so many times he could lie without her catching on, should he risk it again?
Eventually they got back to the hotel, and Roger all but ran to his room. He was thankful he had this retreat, away from the prying eyes of the world and…his girlfriend? Roger wondered vaguely when he felt the need to have a place away from her, but decided it was long before this thing with Novak, so he felt nearly no guilt in hurriedly reading, laughing and replying; though he promised himself he would keep the conversation short, since it was breaking the rules.
- 3
- 4
- 5
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

When Enemies Attract