Page 66 of Match Point

‘You must be mistaking me for someone else,’ he whispers back.

‘Congratulations, Kieran.’

‘Thank you.’

‘You played amazingly,’ I gush, desperate to throw my arms around him, but I get the feeling that he doesn’t want any fuss that might attract attention on this busy hill. ‘It was incredible to watch. You did it! You’re through to the next round.’

‘It’s hard to believe,’ he says, unable to stop a wide grin breaking across his face.

‘Not for me. How do you feel?’

He bites his lip and nods. ‘Yeah, good.’

I wait for him to expand and when he doesn’t, I snicker. ‘Wow, Kieran, that was beautiful. The musical poet would be proud to express himself in such an eloquent manner. You’re through to the next bloody round of Wimbledon. And you’re feeling “good”.’

He chuckles softly, his cheeks flushed. ‘All right, fine. I feel…’ He pauses, exhaling and turning his head to look at me. ‘I feel like this is a dream and I’m scared to wake up.’

I smile, nudging his arm with my elbow. ‘It’s not a dream. It’s all real.’

‘Yeah. The magnitude of it is definitely starting to feel real.’

‘Kieran,’ I say, giving him a stern look, ‘you’re just here to play some tennis. Don’t be a diva about it.’

He bursts out laughing, quirking his brow at me. ‘Did you just call me a diva?’

‘If you’re going to be all dramatic and start talking about the magnitude of winning another round of Wimbledon, then you’re in the wrong company.’

‘That so?’

‘I’m here to enjoy the atmosphere and eat some strawberries.’

He nods to the bowl in my hand. ‘Are they as good as everyone says?’

‘I’m about to find out. Surely you should be the one to tell me how good they are,’ I remark, using the edge of my spoon to cut one in half since they’re absolutely ginormous. ‘I bet you’re sick of these.’

He shrugs. ‘I’ve never had them here.’

I stop what I’m doing. ‘What?’

‘I’ve never had strawberries and cream at Wimbledon.’ He takes a glimpse at my expression and laughs again, his dimples prompting a warm swell in my belly. ‘Why are you looking at me like that? I’ve never had the chance!’

‘You’ve played in this tournament, like, a billion times!’

‘Slight exaggeration. And how many tennis players do you see casually sitting on the court tucking into a bowl of strawberries and cream?’

‘You’re not sitting on the court now, are you?’

‘True.’

I hold out the bowl to him. ‘Come on, you have to have one. I think if anyone else overheard what you just said, you might be kicked out the tournament altogether. Time to lose your virginity. Here—’ I use the spoon to nudge the bit I cut over towards his side of the bowl ‘—you have that half.’

He sighs, picking it up in his fingers. ‘I guess it would be a crime not to.’

‘Sláinte,’ I say, holding up my half of the strawberry on the spoon.

‘Cheers.’

We eat our halves at the same time, turning to look at each other after the first bite and nodding with approval in unison.

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