Page 128 of Game Point
‘It’s not even that I’m worried about the exam,’ she admitted. ‘I have a match to play and I was pulled halfway across the arena to be tested, then there washerand you don’t even need to tell me everything she said.’ Dylan paused, rolling her eyes as she continued, ‘It’s written all over your face. You would suck as a liar.’
The smallest smile dared to turn at the edges of my lips. ‘Gee thanks.’
‘She knows.’ Dylan said the words as if she was stating a fact, and I couldn’t deny it anymore.
‘She knows,’ I repeated, unsure if a weight has been lifted or placed on me with the truth of the matter.
Dylan sighed as her entire body collapsed in on itself. ‘Avery does too.’
‘How?’ I frantically thought back to watching the match with her. She’d seemed reasonably normal, if only a little quiet. ‘When?’
‘After that match,’ she admitted. ‘We had a fight. She said something about selling the story, but I never believed she’d actually go and do it.’
I sighed heavily, realizing where I’d been. The bathroom, having a panic attack when I should’ve been there to protect her.I’d failed her again.
Something in her expression changed. ‘I … I’m sorry.’
‘For what?’
‘For keeping you a secret.’
My hands found hers, eyes searching her face. ‘It doesn’t matter to me.’ She looked back up, her eyes a piercing accusation.Liarthey read. I cocked my head, ‘Okay, it matters a little. But only in that we have a better chance of controlling how it’s all perceived if we are the ones who talk about it. We can create the narrative.’
‘The narrative will still be that I’m a slutty tennis player who slept with her coach.’
My heart turned heavy at her words, at her assurance that this would be the story. And could I really argue that we could change the narrative? This was her life, her career. She knew better than I how the world would react when it didn’t matter to me. My career as a tennis pro was over, and let’s face it, I hadn’t made much of it as a coach. I’d taught her exactly what I’d known she needed, put her in contact with the people she needed to help her own anxiety, all the while fuelling my own fear.
Then the answer became clear.
‘Fire me.’
Her eyes grew wide, eyebrows pushing up as her head tilted. ‘What?’
My heart was beating so wildly it felt like it was crashinginto my ribcage, but I knew this was the solution. The way out of this mess we were on the precipice of creating. ‘Fire me.’
She took a moment, her mouth opening and closing. She looked away from me, surprise still etched on her face. ‘As my coach or as my boyfriend?’
I couldn’t help the strangled laugh that clambered out of my throat. ‘Coach. I’ve done everything I needed to. I’ve supported you all I can as a coach, and now it’s going to interfere with your career. That’s not a good coach.’
‘You were kind of turning into a hard ass.’
‘You appreciate my hard ass and you know it,’ I smirked, allowing myself to enjoy the lightened moment, the relief at seeing her laugh, however quietly.
Dylan looked around the room as if she was searching for answers. ‘How does this change things?’
‘If we get the story out now, that we aren’t working together anymore, we can get it out before anyone can report that we are dating,’ I explained, hoping she could see what I was trying to do.
Her nose wrinkled as her mouth downturned, clearly unconvinced by my plans.
I continued, desperate to convince her. ‘Then, when it does break,after you win, we can say …’ I licked my lips, buying myself seconds before I let go. ‘We can tell them how … how we became unlikely friends. How we exchanged messages for months, FaceTimed for tennis critiques and watched films together despite being in different cities. And then how I followed you to Australia – and not because I wanted to torture you on the long flight – but because being even further from you made me sickto my stomach. So sick I flew across the world without anywhere to stay and had to trick you into inviting me into your home. How we spent months training together and then when we realized there was something more, we parted ways professionally.’
My mouth ran dry of words, losing my nerve. But one look at her, at her deep eyes drawing me in, and I knew I had to say them. ‘And then I can tell them how I fell in love with you. With your strength and humour and abnormally large DVD collection for the streaming era.’
She laughed once, ‘I still stand by the fact physical copies mean we are the gatekeepers of keeping content alive. If we rely on the internet to remember –’ Dylan glanced at me again, finding my raised eyebrow and stopping in her tracks.
‘And we can tell them nothing happened while we were coaching. It will be their word against ours.’
Dylan took a moment, then with a rare softness, she asked, ‘You love me?’
