Game, Set... Match?

Jason slumped back into the couch, lazily bouncing a tennis ball off the wall. Doubles tournaments had been wearing him and Ryan down. They’d played in seven, maybe eight of them, and had little to show for it besides second-place trophies and barely enough money to cover their travel expenses. The big tournament was coming up soon, with its largest prize pool yet, but they both knew the competition would be brutal.

Jason’s gaze drifted to the flyer pinned to the corkboard, his mind wandering. “You know, the mixed doubles division would be so easy if one of us were a girl,” he joked. It was just an offhand comment, but Emily, who had been walking past with a plate of snacks, stopped dead in her tracks.

“I could make that happen,” she said, smirking.

Ryan laughed it off, shaking his head. “Yeah, right. Like either of us could pull that off.”

Jason, however, didn’t laugh. Turning to his sister, he asked, “Wait… could you actually make him look convincing?”

Emily’s grin widened. “Oh, easily.”

Ryan groaned as Jason started pushing the idea harder. It was only one day, and the prize money would be worth it. Reluctantly, Ryan caved. “Fine,” he muttered, “but only if I actually look the part.”

The morning of the tournament, Ryan stumbled groggily into Emily’s room, already regretting his life choices. Emily greeted him with a wicked smile and wasted no time, yanking him into the chair.

The waxing was first, and it was worse than he’d imagined. Emily worked methodically, pressing strips to his arms, legs, and chest before ripping them off without hesitation. Each pull left him yelping, but she didn’t slow down. When she moved to his eyebrows, she meticulously plucked them into delicate arches before brushing them into place.

Emily moved straight to his hair, snapping on gloves and working the dye through every strand with precision. The sharp chemical smell filled the room as she parted and coated each section, finishing by wrapping his head in a plastic cap. “While that sets,” she said, tossing him a navy-blue tennis dress, “put this on.”

Ryan stared at it for a moment, hesitating, but her expectant look left no room for argument. He slipped behind the screen and grudgingly changed. When he stepped out, Emily immediately went to work, adjusting the straps and fussing with the padded sports bra she’d added beneath. A little extra padding here, a tweak there, and everything was sitting perfectly.

Emily motioned him back to the chair and immediately got to work. Her brushes flew as she applied a lightweight, sweat-proof foundation, pink blush, and neutral-toned eyeshadow. A flick of waterproof eyeliner and mascara made his lashes pop, and a glossy pink lip tint completed the look. “Now for the finishing touches,” she said, pulling out a set of long, pastel-pink stiletto-shaped press-on nails.

“Seriously?!” he groaned as she pressed the first one on.

“Stop whining. They’re cute,” she said, fastening the next nail with a satisfied nod.

Finally, she rinsed the dye out of his hair, dried it, and styled it into soft waves, tying it back with a large white bow. Ryan turned to the mirror and froze. Smooth legs peeked out beneath the pleated skirt, and his face—framed by blonde waves—was unrecognizable. Before he could speak, Emily grabbed his arm and rushed him out the door.

Jason stood on the court nervously, checking his watch. Their first match was minutes away, and Ryan was nowhere to be seen. “Unbelievable,” he muttered. “He chickened out.”

Just as he turned toward the net, he spotted her—a stunning blonde adjusting her shoe at the edge of the court, sunlight glinting off her long, loose waves and polished pink nails. She stood up, her fingers idly brushing her hair back, and Jason felt his heart skip a beat as his gaze lingered on her hands, those delicate nails sparkling under the light. Whoa. She’s cute. Wandering over, he gave her a flirty grin. “Hey, cutie. You must be one of our opponents. I’m Ja—”

The girl looked up sharply, her eyes narrowing. “Dude. It’s me.”

Jason froze as recognition hit him like a freight train. Ryan’s glare could’ve burned a hole through the court. Before Jason could recover, the referee called the match, and Ryan stomped to the baseline, muttering under his breath while Jason trailed behind, still stunned.

The match went about as well as you’d expect. Ryan’s nails made gripping the racket nearly impossible, but more than that, Jason’s eyes prowling over him the entire match completely threw him off. Every move Ryan made—whether it was the sway of his skirt or the bounce of the bow in his hair—seemed to hold Jason’s full attention. Jason, for his part, was utterly captivated, his eyes roaming freely, and the bulge in his shorts left little doubt about where his focus was. By the end of the second set, they were soundly defeated, standing side by side in silence at the net.

Ryan yanked the bow from his hair and glared at Jason. “Nice job, Romeo. Next time, try watching the ball instead of my ass.”

Jason chuckled, completely unapologetic. “Hey, can you blame me? You’re kinda adorable out there.”

Caught off guard, Ryan felt his cheeks flush pink. He stammered, “I-I’m never doing this again.”

Jason smirked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “We’ll see about that.”