Page 6 of Game Point
‘Alright then, Bailey,’ he said when the table was all set out, the beer poured. He threw the small white ping-pong ball to me. ‘Time to show the world what you’re made of.’
Thirty minutes later, there was a deep crowd gathered around the table, cheering as I perfectly aimed a shot intomy competitor’s cup. Felix, a German coach with freakishly big hands, grinned in defeat as he fished the ball out of his cup, throwing it in a glass of water to clean it.
‘Prost!’ He downed the last of the beer. The crowd cheered again as he finished the glass in one gulp, the player clearly used to the game. I tore my gaze away from Felix, catching a sly smile from Oliver, who had been dutifully refereeing the games, his plan clearly succeeding. Our eyes connected, and for a second, the noise of the room fell away.
I picked up my last remaining cup and took a sure but steady sip. Eyes still on him. I forced my mind to take an important list into consideration.
Reasons Oliver Anderson is a Bad Idea™.
He’s married (as far as I’m aware)
That goddamn smile.
And those two very good reasons were enough for me to tear myself from his eyes, his kind smile and pretty face, and look across the table to Felix.
‘Want to get another drink?’ Felix suggested. ‘Perhaps one that hasn’t had a ball floating in it?’
I nodded, asking him to lead the way, pushing any and all thoughts of Oliver from my mind.
I didn’t think about him again. Not as Felix got me a new drink. Not as we sat on one of the sofas and asked questions about each other, awkward moments filling up the space in between. Not as he flirted, and I forced a laugh at his questions, trying to skip to the end of the night when we’d get on with it and kiss and I’d feel the warm pull you get when someone is interested in you, andmaybe for a night both of us could forget about whatever life shit we had going on.
Nothing real, a band-aid on a sinking ship.
Felix leaned in, his mouth meeting mine. The first touch of his lips cold against mine. The second touch just as strange. When we pulled apart, I looked up at him, trying to place what had felt so wrong about the kiss. Over his shoulder, I caught a glimpse of a familiar frame at the other side of the room. Oliver. When his gaze caught mine, a small smile curled onto his lips when he clearly saw I was successful, and his hand raised in a wave goodbye.
My stomach knotted as I was struck with the realization of how fundamentally bored I was. Felix was nice enough, but the time I’d spent with Oliver was the highlight of my night. He’d been the first bit of fun I’d had in a while, and now … he was going home alone. I had genuinely enjoyed hanging out with him and I wanted more of that.
I softly waved back, returning his goodbye, somehow finding myself already missing his warm sunshine smile.
‘Who was that?’ Felix asked, turning around, but Oliver was already gone. I blinked, refocusing on the cute German in front of me.
‘Oh, just a friend,’ I said, shrugging his question away.
‘Anyway,’ he asked, ‘is your hotel far?’
His question was a given, seeing as I’d been laughing at his jokes and chatting him up, my hand on his arm since we sat down. But there was an ache in my bones. I pulled back, any flirty mood disappearing.
‘Actually, Felix, it’s been great meeting you. But I’m going to call it a night.’
He took a moment, sensing the change in tone and mood, before nodding in understanding. ‘See you around, Dylan.’
A slight relief washed over me at the ease of it all as I smiled back at him, thankful for the friendly exchange.
Instead, I headed for the front door and out into the New York evening.
3
Dylan
Risk – Gracie Abrams
The warm evening air was still a relief from the overflowing apartment, and it took me a moment to fully place myself in the city street, my eyes searching for any sign of Oliver.
I found him a little further down, his phone in his hand as he stood by the road. A white saloon drove past me, slowing down to pull up in front of Oliver.
In a panic, I shouted his name as I silently thanked my sensible choice in footwear. His head twisted from the car to me, his hand dropping from the door handle as surprise washed over him.
‘Dylan? What are you doing?’
