Page 108 of Game Point
I grimaced, the name sparking the tiniest dash of embarrassment. I remembered what she’d said to the press after the China Open, and that was what she said in public. I could only imagine what was screamed behind closed doors. ‘They put you together this early?’
She shrugged. ‘The draw moves in strange ways.’
I looked at her, really trying to read her expression, see how she was feeling. She sounded confident, but a competitor like Chloe was tricky. I’d underestimated her, and come out worse. She was young, not a lot of experience playing at this level, but even I had to admit she was definitely a threat by now.
‘Well, good luck,’ I smiled. ‘Not that you’ll need it.’
Inés looked unconvinced. ‘Shejustwon the China Open. That’s a big tournament.’
‘I remember. I was there,’ I grumbled unhappily. ‘Besides, she had an unfair advantage. I’d just been in a car crash.’
Inés let out a heavy sigh. ‘One – you were out of your mind.’ She counted her reasons on her fingers. ‘Two – never count anyone out. She’s dangerous on court.’
‘That’s a good point, when did she getsogood?’ We moved from the treadmill, finding somewhere to sit and cool down. ‘She went from crashing out at the first round at Wimbledon to lifting the trophy in Beijing. She had a good run in New York too.’
‘She didn’t switch coaches. I think it’s her brother whocoaches her,’ Oliver said, on his knees in front of me. I looked at him, confused, trying to figure out exactly what he was doing. Then, in his hand, I noticed the ice pack he must’ve been preparing. Carefully he placed it on my ankle. I hissed as the icy cold touched my skin.
‘Whatever she’s been doing,’ I said, ‘I want a piece.’
Oliver let out a mock gasp, his grip tightening on my leg. ‘Is my training not good enough?’
My eyes found his, a daring smile on my lips. ‘You let me get away with hell.’
He laughed, the noise a quiet rumble that came from his chest. I know how that sound feels, know what it’s like to be lying next to him, our bodies pressed together, those vibrations buzzing through me. He said quietly, ‘Like anyone could control you.’
I shrugged knowingly. ‘You try your best.’
For a moment, it was only us in the room, his simple touch on my leg, thumb rubbing back and forth as if to soothe the burning cold pressed to my skin. I knew this look from him. It was a heated, intense gaze, filled with a careful caution. He looked at me this way when he was between my legs too.
Inés coughed, bringing me back into the room. I turned to find her smile crooked, an eyebrow raised.
I broke the silence before she had a chance to sayanything.‘Good luck with your match. I’m rooting for you.’
‘Thanks,’ her gaze still flickering between Oliver and me. My gaze turned hard as if todareher to say anything about us. Instead, she settled on me, pushing her dark hair behind her ear, ‘It will be good to have another shot at kicking your ass.’
‘I look forward to beating you.’
Her mouth fell open, but all I could think about was Oliver at my feet, his fingers now working in the way the physio had taught him to help take down the swelling. That careful touch. He did it every night, starting at my ankle with a cold touch, massaging up my calf with those gentle fingers, a trail of lingering kisses up my thigh.
‘Hey – I will cut your racket strings if you aren’t careful.’ Inés warned, pointing a finger towards me, a darkened look in her face. I had no doubt she was lying this time. These tennis girls lost their goddamn minds sometimes.
‘First you have to win and stick around long enough.’
‘Another very motivating reason,’ she said. I hadn’t played against her in a while but there was no doubt in my mind she was still just as fun a competitor as I remembered.
‘Inés,’ a tall woman shouted from across the room, her blonde hair tied back in a tight bun. ‘Time to warm up.’
My friend looked apologetically at me, ‘Duty calls.’
‘I’ll see you around.’ She pulled me into a tight hug. I murmured a final ‘Good luck.’
Inés sent Oliver a small wave as she walked away, heading over to the other side of the room to start her preparation for the match ahead of her.
‘See, now that’s how you should act,’ Oliver said, shifting from the floor in front of me, sliding into the seat beside me, his work with my ankle done for now. On instinct, I crossed my legs, bringing my ankle over my thigh, my own fingers gently assessing the tender injury, the skin still cold where the ice pack had been.
I looked up at him. ‘I should be at your beck and call?’
‘A good player would be.’
