Page 32 of Game Point
‘Yeah, but …’ Dylan trailed off, ‘She wasn’t wrong. I got too comfortable, lazy.’
I wished I’d been there to see it. I’d been rewatching her old matches when I had the mental capacity, keeping notes on her plays, learning her style. It was aggressive and strong; it wasn’t like her to back off on the court. Dylan Bailey was known for being relentless. That was until she got to a final. There, it hurt to watch her fall apart.
‘You still won though. Take the win.’
‘I certainly did.’ Her voice was warm like honey, her Australian accent singing through on every vowel. The line went quiet, the conversation dying. I couldn’t be sure if she was caught up in the film, but it was like I could sense her indecision down the phone.
I heard the silent question loud and clear: how are youreallydoing? I’d been there a hundred times, when you’ve done well, and a friend has lost. It can be awkward.
‘I’m okay,’ I said to her, ‘Or at least I will be tomorrow.’
‘It was a rough match,’ she comforted me. ‘You played well.’
I let out a pained laugh. ‘I didn’t. But thanks.’
I heard her swallow on the other end, and I wondered what she wasn’t saying. Instead, all she asked was, ‘Where are you heading next?’
I was thankful for the change in conversation, not wanting to linger on the loss any longer.
‘I think I’m going to hang around London for a bit,’ I said. ‘Take a break, practise a little –’
She cut me off. ‘Have aTwilightmarathon.’
‘Very funny.’
‘Is it just the movies or are you into the books too?’ she asked, obviously trying to get another dig in.
‘Never had time to get around to the books.’ I began to wonder if I’d ever be able to escape her teasing.
‘That sounds like a good plan anyway,’ she agreed.
I relaxed into the cushions, my attention barely on the film. ‘How are you feeling about it? China must be creeping up.’
‘Um …’ She trailed off.
I frowned, refusing to accept this level of self-doubt. ‘Come on, you did well in New York. You’re at your fancy training camp with that very expensive team Brooke assembled for you.’
‘I know.’
‘It’s likeThe Avengers,’ I said. ‘Where’s the confidence?’
‘I mean,’ her voice was quieter, tinged with an emotion I couldn’t place, ‘you saw the article.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘I don’t think we should take anything that Rachel Kenrick says as gospel.’
The article was a piece of shit, typical of theDaily Tea. I wasn’t even sure who on her team would agree to that kind of interview. But that didn’t mean I hadn’t heard chatter around the courts about it, everyone pulling quotes,talking about the record. I had kept to myself, disengaging whenever anyone brought it up.
‘I know, but it’s still hard,’ she admitted. There was something about Dylan, our calls and texts. I was different around her, and when she opened up like this, I felt convinced it went both ways. This connection, despite all the distance.
‘The only person you need to focus on right now is yourself,’ I said, trying to bring her back from that self-doubt. Stay too long in it, and it will start to eat you up. ‘You’ve got so much talent. Believe in it.’
She sighed again; the noise was heavy. I knew she heard me, but whether the words would have any effect, only time would tell.
‘Sometimes I think you are the only person who doesn’t give me unsolicited advice,’ she admitted. A small spark of joy lit up inside of me, glad I could do that for her. It was easy to give opinions, especially to others playing tennis, but it didn’t mean that’s what they needed, or needed to hear. Sometimes, we needed to vent.
‘Oh, I mean I have a few pieces if you want them,’ I joked, a low grumble of a laugh following my words.
‘Gee, thanks.’
