Page 92 of Game Point
My eyes caught on the soft curve of his grin, momentarily mesmerized by the casualness of him. ‘You better hope I stay immobile.’
‘You’ll be marginally easier to train,’ he scoffed in response. ‘You can get awfully violent.’
‘I didn’t mean to hit that ball at you.’ I rolled my eyes, thinking back to one of our practically relentless and brutal training sessions a few weeks ago where he’d made me run suicides before practising my returns. ‘It slipped.’
‘Maybe not the first. Or even the second,’ he countered. ‘But by the third and fourth I was growing suspicious.’
I struggled to contain a knowing smirk. ‘Like I said, it slipped.’
‘Sure, a seasoned tennis pro like yourself is unable to aim the ball,’ Oliver grumbled.
‘It happens to even the best of us.’
‘Maybe I should add more drills in that case,’ he offered. At first, the threat had me dreading our next practice, until I realized …
‘Got bad news for you, coach,’ I said, motioning to my leg. For a second, I wasn’t unhappy to be uninjured. ‘I’m benched.’
‘Shit,’ he swore, the thrill of winning our little argument causing my heartbeat to trip over itself. He hummed, the noise vibrating from his body and through my chest. ‘You know that excuse is going to have an expiry date.’
‘And then I should expect your wrath?’
‘My revenge will be unrelenting.’ His arms tightened around me, as if to trap me. But if his embrace was a prison, then find me guilty and sentence me to life.
‘Bring it on, coach.’
He laughed again, and I was a certified goner, the comfort of him almost too much. How was I ever supposed to want anyone else again when he existed? When it felt like this to be friends with him? How much more would it be to kiss him, the ghost of that night playing on my mind? I knew how those lips felt, what they tasted like, and I had a craving for more.
I’d take what I could get of him, never demanding more than he was willing to give, but trying to be satisfiedwith this was like trying to convince myself that a snack was as fulfilling as a four-course meal. It simply wasn’t enough and I felt like I was driving myself insane trying to pretend like it was.
‘You got it, brat,’ he promised, his eyes bright as he teased me with his favourite nickname for me.If he knew what the word did to me, would he still use it?
32
Oliver
New Year’s Day – Taylor Swift
‘I’m just saying, you are a lot less strict on Scottie than you were on me,’ Nico grumbled, leaning back on the marble kitchen counter, the loud thumping of the music filling the rest of the suite around us.
‘So?’ Jon shrugged beside me. I took a long sip of my glass of champagne, trying to hide my smirk at the discussion unfolding. It was the first day of the Brisbane International, and all the players who didn’t have a match the next day had crowded into Scottie and Nico’s large presidential suite to bring in the New Year.
Nico’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘Well, why? Are you going easier on her?’
‘I don’t need to go hard on Scottie,’ Jon explained calmly. He took his time, taking a sip of his own drink before simply saying, ‘She works harder.’
‘Excuse me?’ Nico’s eyes flicked between the two of us.
‘She’s more focused,’ Jon laughed. ‘And … I like her more than you.’
Nico’s attention turned to me as his hands gripped the counter behind him. ‘Do you see what I have to put up with?’
I chuckled deeply, ‘Just lie back and enjoy your retirement.’
‘Speaking of retirements …’ Jon trailed off, looking towards me. ‘Thought about making any announcements.’
I hummed, downing the remainder of my glass. ‘I’m coaching.’
‘We know. It looks good on you,’ Nico said, nodding his head towards me. ‘And so does Dylan.’
