Page 59 of Game Point
‘I can take that.’ His hands replaced mine, taking the box and disappearing back down the stairs. I rolled my eyes, turning to go retrieve another.
This time I met him at the top of the stairs, the smile still on his lips. When he went to take the box from me, I pulled back from his grasp.
‘Whatareyou doing?’
He feigned innocence, a vacant expression appearing across his face.
I tried again, ‘Is it some sort of helpfulness kink?’
‘I just like helping.’
‘No, you’re making sure I don’t lift anything. It’s getting ridiculous.’
‘Dylan,’ he pressed, but I carried on, an accusatory finger pointed.
‘Don’t tell me it’s in my head, I know what you’re doing.’
He sucked in a deep breath. ‘I’m not going to gaslight you.’ He paused, almost weighing up his options. ‘You’re injured.’
I rolled my eyes at him again, correcting, ‘Iwasinjured.’
He carried on as if I hadn’t said anything. ‘And we both know you’re still supposed to be resting, taking it easy.’
‘It’s a couple of fractured ribs. It’s not like I lost a limb or something.’
Oliver swallowed, my eyes tracking every movement of his body. ‘I need you to heal properly. When you figure out that you aren’t done with tennis, your body will have healed properly and you can get back on the court as soon as possible.’
I threw my head back.This again.
He looked a little serious. ‘I’m sorry if I overstepped. I knew you wouldn’t like me bringing up the injury, I wanted to be helpful instead.’
‘Is there an option where you don’t do either?’
‘Nope.’ He looked a little too pleased with himself.
‘I can do things myself, Oliver.’
‘Of course you can. But you don’t have to. Why risk it?’
I knew he had a point, but that didn’t mean I liked it, or that I wanted this level of fawning over. And judging by the fact he had admitted he didn’t want to bring it up, he knew it too. I shifted my weight, the pain in my chest growing sharper, although whether it was from his attention or the weight of the box, I wasn’t sure.
‘Are you going to let me do anything?’ I asked, my tone a little bitter as I grew fed up with the baby treatment.
He leaned towards me. ‘Nobody can stop you from anything, Dylan,’ he said, his voice low. Slowly but surely, a small smirk grew across his lips, breaking the serious tone. ‘But I will try my best.’
I managed to resist rolling my eyes again. And instead, I sighed, asking, ‘What’s the middle ground here?’
A hand rose to cover his wide mouth. ‘Compromise? From Dylan Bailey?’ His hand moved to his chest as if hewas a scandalized woman in a Jane Austen novel. ‘I might die from the shock of it all.’
‘Very funny,’ I said. ‘IfI let you take them downstairs for me, and I start unpacking there, would that make you happy?’
‘That would, thank you.’
Without another second’s delay, I stepped forward, thrusting the box into his arms, my hands meeting his temporarily, something under my skin sparking at the contact with his. Oliver almost lost his balance on the first step under my speed, not expecting me to throw the box at him. If he wanted to carry them downstairs, then fine. Let him at it.
‘I only want a couple more downstairs,’ I instructed, sliding past him. ‘We can sort the rest out later.’
‘No problem.’
