Page 73 of Game Point
‘No.’
‘Do something?’
‘No.’
I sighed heavily, exhausted by this feeling. ‘Then what? Why now?’
On a deep exhale, his rigid body slackening, his shoulders falling as his gaze avoided mine, he said, ‘If I stay, I’m going to fuck this up.’
‘How? Why?’ I snapped, hearing the anger lacing my voice. I unclenched my jaw, trying to soften my tone, to keep my frustration under control. ‘Just be honest with me. Please.’
‘I can’t get you out of my head.’
His words rang like a bell, my breath hitching.
‘The other day, in the bathroom.’ His jaw tightened, his breathing pausing as his eyes closed, as I was plunged back into the memory.
His hand on my jaw, pushing back my hair. The careful, caring way he’d looked at me. The saltiness of my tears drying across my cheek. How I’d wondered if he’d taste better. I’d wanted him. Had almost kissed him. A moment of weakness, one I’d spent days telling myself hadn’t meant anything to him.Had I been wrong?One look at him and the vulnerability was clear in his darkened eyes, as I was sure it was clear in mine.
‘Did you feel it too?’ Oliver asked, his voice tender.
‘Yes.’ The words came out breathless, the close quarters of the car never feeling so small. I couldn’t move, my body frozen, out of fear that if I did, it would only bring me closer to him, unable to fight the gravity of the moment now that he’d acknowledged it. Now that I knew he’d felt it too.
‘All the time I’m reminding myself that it’sjustfriends,’ he said, his voice dry and rough. His tongue brushed nervously against his bottom lip. ‘Dylan the friend.’ His words were familiar. I’ve been reminding myself the same for weeks.
‘It’s starting to become too difficult, to keep myself from … seeing you differently. It was easier, with the distance, but even then, I was waiting on every text from you, wishing every phone call could be five minutes longer. But sleeping in the bedroom next to yours? Living, and cooking, and even just hanging out with you. I was vastly unprepared for how quickly I’d want more. It’s so fucking simple, but you … you make it so much fun. Everything about you makes it harder to keep you as Dylan the friend. You’ve become a person I’m not sure I can see as just a friend.’ Oliver paused, his jaw clenched as he looked at me, his gaze burning. ‘And the only person I can think about at night or in the shower or all fucking day long.’
My hands were shaking, my heart hammering in my chest as I struggled to match his gaze, and admit, ‘It’s not just you.’
All these months of pretending this friendship could be simple had boiled down to this single moment. Both of us acknowledging the truth. We wanted each other. Badly.
The patter of tiny raindrops against the windshield was the only noise, the weather growing greyer as our admission hung in the air between us, awkwardness beginning to build as I struggled to figure out what to say next.
‘Being friends is one thing, but coaching … with this, between us.’ Oliver’s head rolled backwards, his eyes closing. I was temporarily distracted by the thick line of his neck, the pronounced Adam’s apple that had me tempted to drag my tongue along it. He should be studied by science. His voice was hoarse, each word sounding as though it had fought its way out. ‘I can’t hack that. It’s a different kind of torture.’
‘And you just want to be friends, right? There’s no space for more?’ I needed him to say it. Confirm that he hadn’t changed his mind. Didn’t want anything more. Wouldn’t say yes if I offered …
My heart sank as he shook his head. ‘Now isn’t the best time for a relationship. For either of us. If you’re getting back into training, and me, I’m still …’ he trailed off, as if trying to find the right word. ‘I don’t feel ready for something serious.’
I thought of that first night, when he’d drawn the line in the sand. I’d respected it, understood the boundary. But with months of endless spanning continents until miles turned into metres and feet and finally inches … things had become so blurry.
‘Does it have to be serious?’ Asking the question felt like taking a step into dangerous, uncharted territory. Each careful tread calculated. ‘Could we have one night? Work it out of our systems. Then you could stay, train with me.’
Stay.The word rang loudly, laced with the desperation of clinging onto him with nothing more than my fingertips.
‘Just one night?’ he rasped, the wrinkle between his brows pronounced.
I swallowed, nodding. ‘Only one. We both want this to work, maybe this is how.’ What was I thinking?Get him out of my system?Like he was something easily worked out. But I’d give it my best shot if it meant keeping him close.
‘One night,’ Oliver said, his eyes turning dark, ‘and we go back to being friends.’
The relief from his words felt like a heavy weight being lifted from my chest, as something a little cruel curled the edges of my lips. ‘Friends with benefits,’ I proposed.
His head tilted, face turning pale with panic. ‘That’s not one night.’
‘Such a dirty mind,’ the curl turning into a full-blown smirk. ‘The coaching is the benefit.’
‘You think you can do that?’ he teased, moving closer, practically leaning on the armrest in the middle. And I realized he was letting go, his gravitational pull growing stronger, and I was trapped in his orbit.
