Page 119 of Game Point
‘Are you okay?’ Her shoulder nudged against mine. ‘You looked happy coming off court.’
‘I did.’
‘Well, you don’t look very happy about it now.’
‘I got into an argument. Avery, my friend …’ I said, an unusual wave of awkwardness washing over me. I swallowed, trying not to allow myself to doubt what she had said, and how it had made me feel. ‘She told me I was going to choke.’
‘That’s not very nice,’ Scottie remarked, her tone turning annoyed.
‘It didn’t feel very nice either.’ My shoulders pulled down as I thought back over everything she had said, howit all seemed to come out of nowhere. But now, when I looked back, how long had she been something toxic in my life? A well of negativity I kept drowning in. ‘She’s my oldest friend, but I don’t know. Things feel different. Like, maybe for a long time she actually hasn’t been a very good friend at all.’
Scottie took a moment, her blue eyes searching my face. ‘I know you’ve been working a lot with Oliver. You said before, you’ve been doing a lot of mental health work?’
I let out a single laugh. ‘He’s had mejournaling.’
Scottie’s serious expression cracked with a bright smile, and I could’ve sworn the woman was made of sunshine. ‘And did it help?’
Reluctantly, I admitted, ‘Yeah, it did.’
‘And everything else he taught you?’ Scottie arched an eyebrow, a playful smirk wide on her lips. ‘I imagine there was a long talk about sharing your feelings instead of fuelling yourself on spite and vengeance alone?’
‘How did you guess?’ My shoulder nudged against hers as I laughed, the contact between us friendly and effortless. And I realized that friendship is not supposed to be hard work, and isn’t meant to leave me feeling like a battery on empty.
‘I remember it from my time in therapy,’ she said. ‘This feeling, her words, they will pass.’
I knew she was right. I had new methods to help, practices that helped feelings like this pass. And I had Oliver, I had his faith and confidence. And I … I loved him enough to trust his judgement. If he believed in me, then I could believe in myself.
As if she had read my mind, Scottie’s hand found mine,bringing my gaze to meet hers. ‘You’re not going to choke, Dylan. This is your hometown, your crowd.’ She pressed unwavering confidence into her gaze. Then, with a roll of her eyes, she added, ‘Not to mention you are playing like a beast. If I had to go up against you, with the form you’ve had? I know I’d be the one throwing up in the locker room beforehand.’
I laughed again, my head shaking as the last remainder of the anxiety was rushed away by the feeling of gratitude for new friends. We had a rocky past, and I’d done more to hurt her than she had ever deserved. But she’d forgiven me, and I’d changed. Evolved.
There was no more Dylan Bailey who didn’t believe in herself, who punished herself for screw-ups on the court that weren’t her fault. Who drove herself into the ground, forcing herself to be relentless.
‘I’ve got this,’ I said, the weakest smile on my lips as I looked over at her.
Her hand squeezed mine again. ‘Every time you start to feel this way, I want you to take a deep breath, let yourself truly believe it and keep your eyes on that goddamn trophy.’
And with another quick glance, I knew she was right. All that was left to do now was win.
39
Oliver
I Love You, I’m Sorry – Gracie Abrams
I focused on the cold tiles below my bare legs as I laid out on the bathroom floor, trying to take a moment to remember how to box breathe.
I’d been having panic attacks since Dylan’s third-round match. There was a moment, during the second set where she slid on court. Normally, I’d have clocked it as regular, but my mind replayed the moment she’d done the same during the doubles match that caused the sprain, even her opening match when she fell and pretended she hadn’t limped off court. Sometimes I was sure I saw her hesitating, her pace slower.
Every moment had my heart clenching painfully in my chest, anxiety gripping tighter and tighter. I’d tried to sit through the rest of the match, ignoring the overwhelming feeling, the ringing in my ears. But when she reached set point, I couldn’t take it anymore, remembering how easily matches like this could fall apart under the brutal intensity.
I’d left, leaving her parents with some flimsy excuse and locking myself in a private bathroom. I nearly passed out. I knew the feeling had been growing since her injury, the competition had dialled it up until the niggling in the back of my head turned into a full-blown migraine.
I exhaled softly, the tight band around my chest eased. As I inhaled a controlled breath, the rush of oxygen flooded my mind, causing momentary dizziness. The bathroom tilted on its axis, and instead, I moved, my hands finding the smooth tiles using the chill from the AC to ground myself.
There was a knock on the heavy bathroom door, her voice calling out like a siren to a sailor. ‘Oliver? Are you here?’
I swallowed, realizing that her match must be long over. ‘Yeah. Just a moment,’ I managed, fighting to keep my tone level. I made out her shadow from under the door, watching as she hesitated a moment, before turning, heading back into the locker room.
