Page 132 of Game Point
The Alchemy – Taylor Swift
Bailey vs Murphy
Rod Laver Arena
The buzz of the crowd was electric, the noise echoing around the arena as we walked from the tunnel, out onto the blue hard court. I’d played here before, but every time I was left awestruck by the size and intensity of it. The home crowd did not disappoint with their support, even a quick glance had my eye finding a dozen Australian flags.
They were here for me. To watch me win this.
My eyes found my box. My parents, even my sisters were sitting there, cheering me on. I remembered the empty box in London, and again, in New York and how goddamn lonely I had felt standing in the middle of the court. How tired and exhausted.
Compared to the girl I’d been then, I felt like an entirely different player.
Oliver was sitting beside them, his eyes on me. His hand raised, his lips moving to mouth three simple words. I didn’t need to hear them to know what he said.
I love you.
I took in a deep breath, knowing that I was ready to bebrave. He was important to me, and maybe … maybe I didn’t mind who saw it, who knew.
I mouthed those three words back to him, knowing that there was more than likely a camera tracking my every moment. Maybe they’d assume I was saying it back to my parents, maybe they wouldn’t even care. All that mattered to me was Oliver, and the smile that grew across his lips.
Setting up my bag and pulling out my racket, my attention turned to the blonde sitting down the sideline from me.
Chloe Murphy. She’d destroyed me before, in the China Open. And now, she was the player that put both of my friends out of the competition. I inspected the grip of my racket, making sure it was perfect, the strings tensioned. She looked relaxed, almost slumped in her chair like she was at the goddamn beach.
I took a quick drink from the isotonic pouch, trying to get myself ready and focused. We’d spent the last few days preparing for this match, studying Chloe’s play and tactics, breaking down her strengths, figuring out the best way to beat her.
A voice over the tannoy broke out around the arena, a regular announcement but it brought my attention down the court, back to where Chloe was sitting, her glare boring into the side of me. She didn’t look away either. My hand clenched into a fist, a quiet fury overtaking me. If she wanted to play games then she was in luck, because the match was about to begin.
The coin toss went my way, and I chose to serve first. I wanted her to know I wasn’t fucking scared of her.
The ball hit the ground in open space. She returned in my direction, and my easy backhand sent it flying overthe net. She grunted as she returned, but her effort wasn’t enough, and it bounced into the net.
My point. The crowd cheered, almost drowning out the call from the umpire. And I smiled triumphantly as the score board updated.
15–0
Let the match fucking begin.
I took the first set, but not without Chloe almost meeting me point for point. Now onto the second set. She was winning but I’d fought my way up from two games down. She was doing everything she could to win the match. She broke my fucking serve, spiked the ball, challenged at every point she could. Chloe was relentless and vicious … and honestly so much goddamn fun to play against.
During the breaks, Chloe was no longer sitting back relaxed in her chair; she was slumping forward, towel over her neck as she drank from her water bottle. Better yet, her inexperience at this level was beginning to show. She’d had a great run, amazing even. But I was here to end her. Every time I felt that prick of anxiety, I let it go. Imagined it on a leaf or a boat or a goddamn shoreline and let the bitch of a tide take her away.
5–5. We were tied in the second set. Two more to go. Two more and I’ve won.
My serve. I dropped the ball, hitting it against the ground and my racket, trying to decide how I was going to play this. Allowing myself another moment, I looked up, finding him.The love of my life.Oliver was watching me like a hawk, his head held in his hands, leaning forward, hisstress clear from here. I laughed, determined that I was going to show him I could do this, what he had given me.
I quickly served, and we fell into an easy volley, both of us battling it out across the court. Each pop of the racket felt like a heartbeat. She chased down every ball, even ones I was sure were too far from her. It seemed she was intent on taking every single point. She fired across the court, and caught off guard, I lobbed it back over, pushing it too high and far. The ball hit out, and I handed her an easy point.
0–15.Okay, she can have that one. I’ll recover.
My serve, two bounces, and deep breath. I missed, the umpire calling the shot out. Second serve, and this time I hit it wide in the box. Chloe had to move far and wide to return, but she managed. She started to run back to cover the open ground as I hit. Seeing the opportunity, I kept my aim to the right to thread the needle, she stumbled slightly, and … my point.
15–15
Let’s fucking go. The match continued, each of us taking our chances. She was clearly tired, struggling in this second set but she was still incredible. A formidable opponent. I needed to be better than her. She called every shot she could, and when the hawk eye came out with the ball being in by mere millimetres, her effort was rewarded with another point. Bringing us equal.
30–30
