Page 90 of Clean Point

My heart thundered its rhythm inside my chest, her grin infections. ‘The worst.’

‘Alright, we’re done,’ Harry announced, sliding on his stool and bringing back a mirror. Scottie hopped up, clearly excited to see the final product. Anxiety hammered at me all over again. She’d let me surprise her with the design, a decision I was now sorely regretting. What if she didn’t like it? What if I’d permanently scarred her for life with a stupid little tattoo and she hated it forever and ever an—

‘I love it,’ she said, eyes glued to the mirror as her fingers tentatively traced the pink outline of the little ruby red strawberry, a perfect callback to Wimbledon.

‘Really? You like it?’

‘Of course.’ The way she smiled was everything I’d hoped for. That very smile kept me going during doubles. Every point we scored, every game we closed out, she’d send it my way and it would just about bring me to my knees. I wanted more of it, and there was no way I would give it up.

‘I got one to match,’ I added, twisting my bicep to show her my own fresh tattoo wrapped up in plastic to protect it. It sat inside the design already there, twisted up like she’s already managed to twist herself into my life. ‘It felt like a good idea to get one that was Wimbledon coded.’

‘It’s perfect.’

‘Really?’ Worry cracked at the edges of my question.

She stared at me blankly, her voice dry. ‘Yes, the thing I let you permanently tattoo onto my body is perfect.’ Even when she was sarcastic, she still managed to be my favourite person. ‘It’s really cute.’

She jumped off the chair, saying a thank you to Harry as he went through the after-care routine, handing over a healing lotion to help speed up the process. When he was done, she closed the gap between us, her lips meeting mine.

‘You know what this means, right?’

I hummed for a moment. ‘You’ve decided to go get a full sleeve of tennis tattoos?’

‘Nope,’ she replied, her eyes on mine. ‘We’ve gotta win this thing. We can’t get tattoos to commemorate the event, and then not win.’

I smiled. ‘Let’s give them hell, Sinclair.’

‘After you, Kotas.’

38

Nico

I Like You – Harry Strange

A thunderous applause broke out as Scottie and I sealed doubles victory at the round of 16, Scottie’s return bouncing twice, our opponents unable to reach the ball in time. We had played beautifully, reading each other’s moves to dominate and take the match in straight sets.

She turned, beaming at me with pure joy, her hand forming a fist as she yelled out with joy. I stood no chance against the wide grin that broke out on my own lips at the sight of her.

My entire body ached with the need to run to her, close the distance, and pull her tightly into my body. I wanted to kiss her, taste victory on her lips. Instead, I planted my legs and promised myself ‘later.’

Our relationship was not for anyone else but us. They could believe what they wanted, read into every photograph and smile. They could use that to sell their clothing and brand, but they wouldn’t turn what I really had with her into a spectacle.

We met our opponents at the net, shaking their hands before walking back to the bench to collect our belongings.

‘You did good out there, Sinclair,’ I complimented, nudging my shoulder into hers, desperate for any physical contact, even if it was a friendly gesture.

‘I know.’ She turned to me, meeting my gaze before shrugging. ‘You were alright.’

I narrowed my eyes at her, pursing my lips. ‘Just alright?’

The playfully evil glint in her eyes told me she was just messing with me, flirting even. But that didn’t mean my ego could take the dig.

‘I mean, there were a few that went past you I would’ve been able to return.’ She pushed her racket inside her bag, before slinging it over her shoulders, a water bottle held in her free hand.

‘Oh, yeah?’ My eyebrows pushed up, shouldering my own bag and standing alongside her.

She shrugged again as she took a sip of her water. ‘I mean, if you can’t handle a critique, I could keep it to myself and let Jon tell you instead.’ Then she turned, beginning to walk off court as if this conversation was over. But it was far from over.

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