Page 54 of Game Point
He sighed, his attention leaving me. It felt like the sun had disappeared behind clouds, his spotlight had been so warm. Then it returned, the relief of it overwhelming as he declared, ‘I give you two weeks.’
I was weak to the smile that broke out across my face, unable to fight it. He was the only person that could make me feel like this, give me that buzz of electricity, make me feel like my old self again. It had been hard enough with him on the other side of the phone, of the world … and now he’d be staying with me?
How long could I pretend?
My eyes narrowed playfully. ‘That sounds like a new bet.’
‘Well, seeing as youclaimto be retired,’ he said. I softly jabbed my elbow into his side. ‘I’ve won the last one. If you change your mind, let me train you.’
I cut him off. ‘Who said anything about you training me?’
‘I did. Just now,’ he sounded very pleased with himself. ‘I think I want to move into coaching. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, and I think I’d be good at it.’
‘Feeling confident in your teaching skills, are we?’ I joked, but even as I said the words, I could see it for him. Everything he’d said to me. The reassurance he’d offered. His practical on-court experience. Of course there would be a learning curve, figuring out who best he would work with, but he could do it.
I’d bet Oliver Anderson could do anything he set his mind to. And even as I tried to push the idea away, I could see it. Us, working together.Us, together.
‘Well, I mean I am a Grand Slam winner. I think I’m somewhat qualified to give advice.’ He stuck out his tongue at me. ‘You come back, be my test subject for coaching, and of course, we can continue our bet. If you lose again, you get my trophy. Win in Melbourne, and you pick up my bar tab.’
‘I thought we said it was a round.’
‘I’m offering you free coaching.’ Oliver reasoned. ‘The tab is the least you can do.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘Itisa pretty trophy.’
‘It’s Tiffany, you know,’ he recalled, a knowing look on his face. I remembered saying those words the first night we met. Who knew it would take us this far? The very trophy sitting above our heads.
‘I wonder if I can drink out of it.’
‘You can, in fact,’ he replied.
I turned to face him properly. ‘You didn’t!’
‘Mind you, the champagne tasted a bit weird, but I did wash it out first.’
I shook my head, wishing I could believe he was kidding, but it did seem like an Oliver thing to do. ‘I’ll keep that in mind.’
‘What do you say, roommate?’
‘Roommate?’ I laughed. ‘I think lodger overstaying his welcome might be more accurate.’
‘Now, Dylan, you can’t lie to me.’ He smiled, self-satisfied and goofy. He somehow could pull off both at the same time. ‘You know you’ll be begging for me to stay.’
The way he looked at me, the teasing glint in his eye, warmed something strange in my chest.Was it just me, or had somebody turned up the heat in this cabin?It had all started at that party in New York, a spark, even then, but one I’d managed to contain, to push down, to remember that big red stamp on his forehead that read ‘FRIEND ZONE’. But now, more than ever, could I risk wanting more with him?
I chuckled softly. ‘Maybe after a week of living with me, you’ll be praying for border control to change their minds and kick you out.’
‘So, you agree?’
‘I agree to you staying with me. Nothing else. I’m retired, and I mean it,’ I said firmly, needing my words to be heard. It would be nice to have company, but his coaching offer, it would have to be for somebody else. No matter how good it sounded.
He nodded, looking a little disappointed but smiling softly at me, nonetheless.
A feeling ofdéjà vuhitting softly. Everything had changed since that night in the hotel bar. And at the same time, so little.
With a squeeze of courage, I broke the silence between us. ‘But expect to be in charge of doing the dishes if you’re staying rent free.’
Oliver laughed, throwing his head back, and I tried to ignore how much I enjoyed the sound.
