Page 113 of Clean Point

‘In a minute.’

She tapped her wrist playfully in response, leaving the door open as she disappeared back inside.

When I turned back to Nico, his hand found the side of my face, gliding up the line of my jaw, and led me back to his lips. The pressure of him gliding against me, the stubble along his jaw dragging against mine.

‘You still don’t see it, do you?’ he mumbled, his lips barely leaving mine. ‘I couldn’t do this without you. I’ve been trying for years, and this trophy – our trophy – is the closest I’ve ever gotten, and I will forever be thankful for that.’ His head leaned to the side, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses along my jaw, leading up to my ear, where he stopped. ‘But you, Scottie Sinclair, never needed me. You are strong and ruthless and so fucking unstoppable, and I can’t wait for a lifetime of watching and loudly cheering you on.’

The only logical reply was a kiss, one strong enough that I was sure he could feel the ache in my heart at his words, my gratitude for all of him, his attention and love. He might not have seen it, might not have realized how key he was to everything we had achieved together, but I knew, and I’d never forget it.

‘I love you,’ I said.

‘I love you, too.’ The words were just as easy for him as they were for me, I could tell. ‘But we should head inside before everyone starts to think we’ve abandoned them.’

My free hand found his, squeezing in answer for him to lead us inside, to our friends and family, to everyone that had supported us on our way here. Inés and Dylan were tucked amongst the crowd talking to Oliver, who had also made it along. I found Jon hiding in the back, my mum beside him, probably discussing the benefits of preventive botox.

I’d been alone for so long. No roots, no purpose, and so painfully wounded, the truth like a shard of glass gazing against my heart. It had taken all of them to get here and to heal. To trust again.

All along, I’d just needed Nico, his heart, and a baseball cap to steal.

Epilogue

Nico

Clean (Taylor’s Version) – Taylor Swift

Scottie jogged on the spot in front of me, peppy and bursting full of energy. Her black tennis skirt fluttered around her thighs. I was almost certain she had only worn it as a distraction, the low cut of her sports bra showing more skin than she normally would.

‘Come on, you can’t keep putting this off forever,’ she taunted, smiling brightly. We’d settled at my home in Tampa. She had a month off from the touring and travelling of the tennis season, and I had her all to myself. Four blissful weeks that would’ve been peaceful, if it wasn’t for her competitive edge I loved so much.

‘I was stretching,’ I groaned as I pushed up from the bench to continue with my warmup. Lengthening my arm across my body into a deep pull, I muttered under my breath, ‘I can’t believe you’re making me do this again.’

Since we’d won together, the two silver challenge cups from Wimbledon sitting side by side inside the house, I’d relaxed my competition schedule, only competing when it made sense for me, and for Scottie. My knee was a problem, there was no getting around that, but I could handle the strain with a reduced schedule. Competing and playing was its own reward. I still had that hunger in my bones. But it wasn’t an insatiable need to win, more a satisfied grumble, with all four Grand Slam titles under my belt, and my girl on my arm. Being around to support her was a reward in itself.

‘We made a deal,’ she reminded me, but I just shook my head.

‘We made a deal to stop this madness with the last match.’

One night, at the start of the break, after a few too many beers, we’d made a bet. Every time we played against each other, we’d keep a running score, and by the end, we’d have the true winner. The best tennis player. I’d been sure she’d win, but to my surprise, I’d kept up the pace, and in the final week we were neck and neck.

So then came our next bright idea. Five rounds. Me vs her. No holding back, no letting the other win. Pure competition. A fight for the title. It made sense.

The first match had gone well into the night, with each other unable to win a tie break before we’d called it. But then the next day, she argued that there were no ‘ties’ in tennis and made us replay the point. Over and over, until with some sort of miracle, I’d won. But one of us had turned out to be a bit of a sore loser.

‘But then I lost, so I demanded a rematch.’ She stuck out her tongue playfully, her blonde hair tied up in a ponytail, my cap keeping the rest from her face. The sight of her wearing it was enough to bring me to my knees. ‘Last time, you got lucky. Beat me by one point. That’s hard for a woman of my—’

‘Arrogance?’ I argued, interrupting her with one brow pushed up.

‘I was going to say talent.’ Her eyes narrowed on me. ‘That’s hard for a woman of my talent to take.’

I couldn’t help the smile that broke out across my face, so instead I turned around, busying myself by pulling my racket out of the bag, filling my pocket with a few balls until it was under control. ‘The last match was supposed to be the final one. You said you’d learn to live with the loss.’

I knew it was useless to remind her. I’d been doing it for days, trying to avoid this final match so we could enjoy the last of our time here. But she was relentless, the athlete inside of her unable to cope with the itch of the simple loss. That, and she probably didn’t want me holding it over her head.

‘I lied.’ I turned around to find a playful smug look on her face, her pink lips in a smirk. ‘Come on. Five rounds. Let’s go all the way. See who really is the best.’ Her eyes narrowed on me, a competitive curve pulling at the edge of her lips. I had learned the hard way that when I got this look, I should expect devious things from her. I relented, knowing it was useless to put it off anymore. It was either now, or I’d hear about this for the rest of my life. Because that’s how long I was planning on keeping her.

‘Fine. Let’s get on with it.’ I threw a couple balls her way, watching as she pocketed them in the stretchy hidden pocket of her skirt, my eyes lingering on the top of her thighs.

She definitely picked that skirt to distract me.

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