Page 34 of Game Point
‘I should work on my reputation courtside,’ she said, ‘It sounds terrible.’
I thought about how to perfectly encapsulate her, more than a terror. What the right description for her truly was. There were a lot of words thrown about, some worse than others. But they all had the same idea behind them, the same intention.
‘They’re all afraid of you.’ There was a good reason she usually made it to the final; she was relentless on court. Nobody looked forward to their match against her.
‘You know what,’ she said. ‘I like that. Let’s keep it that way.’
I could see the smile on her face in my mind’s eye, knowing she would revel in that nugget of information. Whether it was new to her, I was unsure. But she didn’t seem to mind one bit.
‘Now stop talking,’ she added. ‘Daddy Charlie is on screen.’
And somehow, despite the loss and exhaustion and failure of the match today, I forgot all about it. Forgot to be sad. Not while we stayed on the phone for the entire film, not when she stopped making her little comments about the hot vampires, not when I realized she had fallen asleep on the other side, her soft snores sounding through the speaker.
And not when I smiled, thought of her safely tucked in bed, and said my good night, before ending the call, sleep finding me quickly.
I woke up, bolt upright, a hot sweat on my brow. My fingers gripped the thin bed sheet, my lungs struggling to take in a deep breath.
Closing my eyes, I could still see the dream clearly. Soft brunette hair, spread out across a silk pillowcase. Pink lips, puffy from kissing. Skin so soft under my touch. Long, strong legs that wrapped over my shoulders, around my neck,spreading for me, and pulling my tongue against her.
Could I still taste her on my tongue?
It had felt like she’d been real. Too real, if the unbearable hardness between my legs was anything to go by. My bed was unmade, sheets tangled up in my legs as if I’d been grinding myself into the mattress thinking of her.Dylan.
Pushing myself from the bed to sit to the side, I wiped at my forehead, skin still hot to the touch. Every moment I closed my eyes, I still saw her, as if the image had burnt itself into the back of my eyelids.
Where had this come from?
Dylan was beautiful, there was no denying that. And we had a relationship, but it was a friendship, I’d insisted. But that didn’t lessen the way I felt about her, the clear connection between us. Very quickly our friendship had become something I was so accustomed to, almost not a single hour going past without at least a text to her.
But dreaming of her? Like this? I struggled with it, feeling unsure despite having little control over the matter.
Pushing up, I resigned myself to a shower, the water ice cold as I tried to wash the thoughts of Dylan away.
But as the water pelted at my back, my body shivering under the temperature, I was still left with the memories of the dream, and a want for somebody I shouldn’t have.
11
Oliver
Matilda – Harry Styles
I stared down at the embarrassing number of messages I’d sent Dylan over the past week, feeling increasingly unhinged as I fought the urge to send another.
We’d been talking more than ever since I arrived in London. She had flown to China in preparation for her competition there; her time zone was eight hours ahead of mine, but I made it work. Talking to her during her breakfast, while it was the middle of the night with me, or getting her download of her full day while I ate lunch.
The dreams hadn’t stopped. Neither had the cold showers.
At the sound of the private apartment buzzer, I headed towards the door. The concierge had already alerted me to Jon’s arrival, having done his job to confirm he wasn’t press or an overzealous fan trying to get past security. I’d opted to find my own accommodation rather than staying with my parents, needing my own space. Their house had never been my own, and even one night there left me feeling increasingly disconnected.
How was it possible to be homesick in your home city?
I opened the door, greeting Jon.
‘Hey, good to see you!’ I said, thankful for a friendly face. I’d been going a little stir crazy without a friend around. When I’d heard that Jon was in town this week,I jumped at the chance to get him over to the apartment. He’d be away in China soon, joining his player Scottie for the Open there. The same tournament as Dylan.
‘How’s it going?’ he asked, stepping inside.
‘Oh, fine.’ I led him into the kitchen, Jon making himself comfortable at the counter. ‘I’ve just been running drills, getting a few practice sets in with hitters to prepare. Coffee?’ I offered.
