Page 28 of Game Point
‘The interview was with Rachel Kenrick.’
‘You’re in a closet with Rachel Kenrick? The one from theDaily Tea? Is that typical for her?’How did he make me want to laugh and scream at the same time?
‘No,’ I said, ‘Rachel is back in the interview room. I’m hiding in a closet because if I stayed in that room with her a second longer, I’d have been arrested for assault.’
Down the phone, I could hear Oliver putting the pieces together. ‘It sounds like the cleaning closet might have been a good shout.’
‘Thanks,’ I said a little bitterly. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m waiting for my physio to arrive.’
‘Ooh,’ I hummed. ‘Time for a relaxing massage.’
‘More like time to writhe in pain under her hands. She’s brutal.’ He earned a laugh from me, a single chuckle escaping me at the image of him being tortured on the massage bed by a physio. The shit they can do to a hamstringshould be illegal. I always limp away unsure if I’m supposed to thank or curse them.
‘But think about how much better you’ll feel after,’ I teased.
‘True.’ He still sounded somewhat unconvinced. ‘Did you mean to change the subject?’
‘I’d honestly rather talk about anything else.’
He sighed and I could picture him, his hands running through his hair, tousling the light brown strands.Since when did I start thinking about Oliver’s ‘tousled’ hair?
‘No matter what she said, Dylan, you don’t have to give her an answer. Take control of the interview,’ he insisted.
I wished I believed him, wished I felt any control in that room. But Rachel had a way, a line of questioning that left me feeling weak and defenceless.
I attempted to change the subject again, ‘Congrats on your match today. I saw you won.’
He laughed. ‘Always with the stalking.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘It’s the Davis Cup, it’s a big deal. And besides, I keep tabs on my friends.’
‘It’s official then?’ His voice perked up. ‘Friends! Can we update our Facebook status?’
‘Is that a thing people still do?’ I asked flatly.
‘Instagram official?’
I hummed with indecision before answering, ‘We need a photo together first.’
‘True,’ he said, ‘I’ll see you in Melbourne.’
The reminder of my home slam struck me with a lightning bolt of fear. Would that be number eleven? It was an unwelcome, intrusive thought, Rachel’s voice echoing with her soul-destroying fact. Was this really my legacy?All this work and it led to no slam wins, no glory, no trophy on my shelf?
‘We will have to get a drink,’ Oliver continued. ‘Hopefully you’ll owe me an entire round at the end.’
I let out a heavy breath, the weight of Rachel’s words still hanging around my neck. ‘I guess.’
‘Youguess?’he repeated, ‘I was watching your semi-final, in New York. Dylan, if you play like that in a final, you’ll have no problem bringing home a trophy.’
The hope his words had sparked was reckless, but I couldn’t help it. ‘You think?’
I knew I was fishing for a compliment, for a pep talk. And maybe it was what I needed because if anyone could give me one, it was Oliver.
‘I know. You got this,’ he said the words as if he actually believed them. ‘And you got this interview. Just don’t get violent.’
I fought back a smile. ‘Brooke told me not to say anything stupid before I went in.’
