Page 55 of Game Point
‘Glad we could come to some sort of arrangement, roomie,’ he said, something in his wild lopsided grin telling me I was absolutely going to regret agreeing to this.
19
Oliver
The View Between Villages – Noah Kahan
I’d done something mad. But spending the long flight sitting next to her, in business class no less, didn’t feel too much like a punishment. I didn’t bring up the training again, seeing her reluctance to even consider the possibility she might be making a mistake, and kept my plans to myself.
The notes in my phone had been overflowing with ideas in the last few weeks, with people we could work with, the kind of team we could build. But instead of discussing coaching, we watched movies, pressing play at the same time and only wearing one earphone so we could still talk, sometimes the entire movie playing in the background. I couldn’t say the flight passed quickly, but spending time with her in person felt easy after all those months of conversation only over text messages and calls.
With my suitcase and the trophy in hand, I stood outside Dylan’s house, looking at the vast two-storey secluded home. It was surrounded by a wrap-around fence. The driver hadn’t enjoyed waiting for her as Dylan called her sister, trying to remember the security pin to open the gate.
‘Home, sweet home,’ Dylan muttered as she unlocked the front door. I looked around the vast hallway, ahead the stairs and to my left a doorway leading into a luxuriouskitchen and living-room combo. An open area, a tall ceiling, dark wood beams cutting across, with the living room area at one end of the room, a kitchen at the other.
I let out a low whistle, leaving my suitcase behind. ‘This place is nice.’
She followed me through, heading to the kitchen to inspect the fridge. The light from inside lit up her face. ‘Lennon said she would get us the essentials. Milk, bread, etc. Are you alright with dairy?’
‘Dairy is fine.’ I nodded as I scanned the room, trying to learn all I could about her. A sofa and a couple of armchairs were crowded around a TV, a coffee table sitting in between. ‘Who’s Lennon?’
She moved away from the fridge, the only light in the room coming from the large windows either side, allowing the moonlight to shine in. There was something about how Dylan looked in the low light, a sultry look that made me too keenly aware of her slim, curving body, long legs, sharp features. She looked like she could eat me up, and I liked it.
‘My older sister.’ I watched as she walked around as if she was exploring her own home for the first time. Dylan continued, ‘She complained about it, but I pointed out that I was still the baby of the family, even if she has her own kid now.’
‘Once the baby of the family, always the baby.’
She looked at me, and you wouldn’t have known she was fresh off a long-haul flight. ‘Exactly.’
‘How many sisters do you have?’ I caught sight of tall bookcases, countless books displayed. I scanned the shelves, trying to find a title I might have heard of.
‘Two. Both are older,’ she said from behind me. ‘Lennon has one kid and Tessa two, all girls. I’m sure they will be upon us in a couple of days’ time.’
‘Sounds good,’ I smiled, looking over my shoulder at her.
I didn’t have any siblings to make nieces or nephews but some of my cousins’ kids always kept the family BBQs lively, friends’ kids too. They were fun, mischievous once they could run around. Great help on a tennis court when it came to collecting up the balls, too. Free labour and everything.
‘They’re cute.’ She made her way over to me, standing by my side. ‘I don’t get to see them often, but I’m excited for all the hugs and sticky hands.’
I watched her, her own attention lingering at the shelves ahead. I was struck again by how new this looked to her, Dylan clearly exploring around, as I was. She’d called it home, but maybe hadn’t spent enough time to actually feel comfortable here, spending months and months in far-off places.
‘Why is this empty?’ I nodded ahead at the top shelf that was suspiciously bare. The rest of the bookcase was bursting with books, trinkets and photos, but this shelf, in the centre, was completely empty, like its contents had been stolen.
She shifted uncomfortably on her feet. ‘Feeling nosy, are we?’
‘Just getting acquainted.’
‘I never really had time to unpack fully,’ she said. ‘There is a second bedroom but it’s still full of boxes. I hope an airbed is okay?’ Dylan looked over at me apprehensively, my attention temporarily drawn to her lips, the bottom one pulled between her teeth.
‘An airbed is fine.’ I was just happy I didn’t have to spend another night in a hotel. I tilted my head towards the shelf again, not quite satisfied. ‘Is that why this is completely empty?’
The unease was clear across her face as she admitted, ‘Not exactly.’
‘Design choice?’
‘It’s dumb.’ Her gaze landed anywhere but on me. And God, how I grew desperate to be under that spotlight again. I’d heard people throughout the years, other players discussing how cold and callous she was – on and off court, personally and professionally. But I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt a warmth like Dylan Bailey’s attention. It was singular, undivided and focused. It made me feel worthy of her time, spurred me into any action so I could hold it for just a little longer.
I was reluctant to dig any further, clearly reading the discomfort across her features. I offered up an excuse, letting her change the subject. ‘Were you going for minimalism?’
