Page 101 of Clean Point

‘But … you,’ was all I managed to say before she waved a hand in the air, ignoring my concerns.

‘Respectfully, fuck me.’ She smirked. ‘Do you think I’d give up the singles title for you?’

I considered her question for a moment, the answer deserving more time than a simple ‘no’. I searched through every moment with her, seeing her competitive side on the court, knowing how deep that ran in all of us. We give up so much for the chance at a win, for five minutes of glory before we do it all again. It’s not about the fame, or the money.

It’s the moment you know you’ve reached the pinnacle, the thrill and relief when you beat everyone to the top. That feeling is addictive.

Part of me wondered if that was why her dad was still so invested in her. That if his time on top was over, at least he could still have the closest thing by succeeding through her. Like an addict, willing to do anything for their next hit. But Scottie, she isn’t anything like her father. Instead, I found the answer in her blue eyes. Ignoring her cocky smile, the slight playful mood she was using to mask, and there, the truth lay.

If this was as important to me as I knew it was for her, then she would not hesitate. She would fight for me, even if it meant giving up something, even if I didn’t want or ask her to.

She was strong, and kind, and selfless in that way, and I loved her for it.

Loved her. Period.

I couldn’t help but pull her back into my arms, squeezing her tight as I pressed my lips to her temple, basking in the feel of her body against mine, the sweet scent of her shampoo surrounding me. Her arms wrapped around my waist, her head nuzzled under my chin.

‘I’ll still be here for you,’ she promised. ‘Your lucky charm.’

My fingers found her chin, tilting her face up to meet mine. ‘Good, because I’m really not letting you go anywhere without me anymore.’

I watched her expression change as my words sunk in, the worry lines smoothing out, her bright smile returning as my heart skipped a beat. And then my lips meet hers, unable to hold back from her for another moment.

43

Scottie

Green Light – LORDE

The press room was packed. Rumours had gotten out that there was some sort of announcement to come from Nico, and it seemed like half of London wanted in on the news.

I’d been in the box when he fell on the grass, and when I heard that gut-wrenching sound of pain, something … changed. As if my world narrowed in on that moment, watching him fall to the grass and seeing him at risk of losing his Wimbledon success made me feel like my chest was being squeezed too tightly for my heart.

And when he got up, playing through his obvious pain, my entire world reorganized itself and I realized how Nico had been able to weasel his way into my life, meaning more to me than a mixed partner is supposed to.

Seeing him in his locker room after, with that look of defeat and desperation spread across not only his, but his team’s face, it wasn’t hard to see how close he was to having it all snatched away.

It was easy, easier than it really should’ve been, to tell him to let the mixed go. I could almost feel the Scottie from two years ago, the girl who wouldn’t throw away a chance at her own title, revolting against the idea. But he meant too much to me now to hold him back.

‘Hi everyone, if you could give me a minute, I’ve got an announcement to make.’ Nico’s voice echoed around the packed press room as he sat at the front. I was standing to the side, safely out of sight while him and Jon took on the press junket.

His words did little to quell the racket of questions being shouted his way. I could hardly make out a single word except the occasional mention of my own name that I knew couldn’t mean anything good.

‘Excuse me,’ he said firmly again, his voice almost booming through the speakers. With that, the press fell quiet, calming as they settled into their seats.

‘Thank you,’ Jon said, taking over. ‘If you can please give us a few minutes for an announcement, then we will allow some time for some questions.’

Then it was Nico’s turn. I watched as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair, the lump in his throat bobbing with nerves. I smiled softly, as if trying to soothe him from the sidelines, calm him so he could do this.

I hadn’t wanted him to feel bad for having to drop out. There would be other titles, other Wimbledons. I’d come back stronger next year because of everything he taught me. They wouldn’t know what hit them.

‘Over my fifteen-year career, it has been my dream of achieving the men’s single title here at Wimbledon. I think we can all agree, this is a special event. I don’t think we can quite explain the effect it has on us players as a whole, but I think it’s fair to say we all dream of winning this title.’ The crowd was hanging on his every word, waiting for his announcement.

‘For the last year, I’ve had one goal, and that was to take part and win this title …’ Nico’s head turned and his eyes found me standing at the sideline, a warmth igniting in the usual cloudy grey colour, an emotion I was still trying to put my finger on when I realized that something had changed for him too.

‘And that’s still very much the same. Except it won’t be the singles title I’m competing in.’

My legs went weak under my weight, and I had to grab onto a chair for support, my hands gripping the metal back so I wouldn’t fall to the ground.

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