Page 93 of Game Point
‘There’s nothing going on,’ I pressed.
‘Liar,’ Nico smirked, repeating the words singing around my head.
‘I’m coaching her,’ I said plainly. ‘She’s a friend.’
‘I remember those very words coming from Nico,’ Jon hummed.
‘Yeah … we were not just friends,’ he admitted, looking a little … bashful? What had Scottie done with him?
I sighed, wishing I hadn’t downed most of my drink. Looking away, I couldn’t help but think of that moment in the hospital room, when the doctor said there was still hope for Melbourne. The way my heart had squeezed so tightly, I thought I was going to have to ask for assistance.
I couldn’t help but still wonder if it was my fault. If I was too inexperienced for this level of professional coaching. If I should’ve started with a literal beginner rather than jumping straight in at the deep end of ‘hey let’s win a Grand Slam together’. If me being distracted by my feelings caused me to not focus enough on her training.
If I had put her entire career at risk.
‘Hey, you alright?’ Nico asked.
I met Jon’s eyes as he added, ‘You look a little pale there.’
I swallowed, the counter I had been leaning against not enough to hold me up. ‘I need some air.’
Nico motioned me out of the kitchen, leading us into one of the bedrooms.
‘Come out onto the balcony,’ he said, opening up a floor-to-ceiling window, holding it open for me.
I followed, stepping out into the warm Brisbane air, looking at the city around us. The lights of the high-rises surrounded us, a buzz in the atmosphere as we waited down the clock to midnight. The wind was warm, summer in full swing, but comforting nonetheless, the breeze still cooling my body, easing the tightness from my chest.
‘Feeling better?’ Nico asked, sitting near the window frame, while Jon ventured further out with me, leaning against the railing of the balcony.
When I nodded, Jon asked, ‘What’s wrong?’
I struggled to find the right words, trying to put the racing thoughts into a context they could understand. ‘I feel like I’m going to fuck this all up, the coaching. Dylan’s put all her faith in me and what if I wasn’t ready? What if I’ve made a mistake and –’
‘I’m going to stop you right there,’ Jon said firmly, his tone pressing but calm. ‘Take a deep breath.’ I did as he said, inhaling the warm city air. The band around my chest relaxed only an inch but it was something. ‘Let me tell you an industry secret: we all share your anxiety. We keep it under control for our player, but God, when they are playing, I’m losing it. Going over all the things I could’ve done better, the ways I failed them.’
‘Which quite frankly are numerous,’ Nico interrupted from behind us.
‘Ignore him,’ Jon instructed. ‘We will always weigh up the effect we have upon somebody, and deem the negative,the missed opportunities more important. And sometimes we will fail. That’s life. We do what we can and it’s not always enough. But remember when we first had the conversation about you coaching?’ he asked. I nodded in answer, concentrating on his every word. ‘I meant what I said, you’re good at this. She’s injured but that happens.’
I swallowed down his words, understanding what he was trying to tell me, grateful he wasn’t sugarcoating his advice.
‘And dude, you can deny it all you want,’ Nico started up again, ‘but we see how you look at her. I mean, that shit you pulled jumping on the plane to travel with her.’
Jon looked at him. ‘Here? Australia?’ he said, pointing a finger to confirm.
‘Yup,’ Nico said. ‘Just randomly caught the flight. Got a quick visa. Screamed “idiotic shit you do when you like a girl”.’
Jon’s eyes went wide. ‘Okay, well, wow.’
‘I –’ I started.
Nico cut me off, mocking me again. ‘I was a complete dumbass for thinking I could hide when I was in love.’
‘I’m not in love,’ I rejected, wincing as even the denial felt wrong rolling off my tongue, the tone off-pitch.
Nico laughed, ‘Might want to rehearse that one a few more times to make it sound real.’
I shot him a look, all the while knowing I had dug myself into this hole. If it was clear to them, was it to her? Or were we two blind idiots dancing around the truth, spending twenty-four hours a day pining for that one night we had pretended could only be until sunrise. Wishing for something more between us but throwing inany and every excuse to keep us apart, from actually being happy? And for what? I was still her coach, still distracted by everything about her. Wasn’t it worse like this?
