Who: Justin Finch-Fletchley and Megan Jones Where: Their local tennis club. On and off the courts. When: Saturday. What: A battle of wit and stamina. Rating: PG - depending on Justin's use of curse words.
Reagan. There was still the issue of Reagan, that neither of them (Justin and Megan) had really dealt with. It wasn’t much of an issue, well until Justin’s mother rang him up at Megan’s; the other night, to quiz him on his new girlfriend, and had asked if Reagan was that new ball girl at the club, anyway. Justin had blanked and said, yes, shrugging his shoulders in defense at Megan, because really what was he going to say? Okay, so it wasn’t the smartest idea. Chances were Reagan could be working today and Justin’s mother would want to quiz her about her feelings and all of that, but Justin had already said it and they were going to tell their mother’s today anyway. It could lead into an easy -- “Oh no, I’m not dating Reagan, I’m dating Megan.” Laughs to be had, hugs to be hugged out and smiles to be shared, Justin was confident it wouldn’t go that bad. Okay, so at best he was fairly confident. He grabbed his racket and the keys for his car as he walked back out towards the door. “You look cute.” He leaned in and placed a quick kiss on Megan’s nose, before opening the door and holding it open for her. “Our mums are probably already warming up, so we should probably skip the bakery --” They were never going to get there. “-- And go straight to the courts.” Justin was disappointed he had been building up the idea of sharing a nice chocolate croissant with Megan, since their talk last night. “At least we won’t have to worry about getting a stitch or something.”
The ride to the courts didn’t take too long. Justin told Megan about Stan and his latest conquest, that Justin was sure was going to slap him by the end of the week, and his time at the ministry a few days ago, where he had been helping Mr Weasley organise his office. Once they arrived, Justin made sure to check if Reagan was working and was relieved to see she wasn’t. They had dodged a bullet with that one, Justin gave a small nod. He had never been one to admit to believing in a higher power, but he did have his days where he liked to express a few thanks to whoever was listening. “Oh, God.” Justin changed his mind. He could see their mothers limbering up on one of the courts below, “You ready for this?”
Justin walked down to the courts, swinging his bag over his shoulder and taking out his wrist bands and sliding them on, before pulling out a headband, “I’m just going to put this old thing on.” Old thing? Ha, definitely not, but Justin didn’t want to brag; that his headband was legendary and had won him the last six games. “Just for that added pinpoint perspiration control around my cranial area.” Yeah, be jealous. Justin was a looker on and off the court. Well in his opinion.