Page 105 of Drop Shot
“Elias.” I will my voice to carry on the wind to his ears. “You can do it, baby.”
40-40.
The beat of my heart is thunderous in my ears.
40-40. Advantage Elias. Championship point.
Championship point.
If he makes it that is.
Everyone in the stadium is on the edge of their seats.
I can practically hear what the commentators are bound to be saying on TV, “Can he do it? We’ve seen him choke a lot this year. He seems focused. Look at that determined stare. What a serve! Conor’s quick on his feet, though. Elias is going to have to be quicker—and oh my god folks he’s done it! Elias Johnson has won Roland Garros!”
An excited, relieved scream tears out of me as Elias collapses backwards into the clay from shock.
He did it.
He fucking did it.
“Oh my god!” I scream, jumping up from my seat and clapping. I brush away a few tears that escape from my mixture of excitement and relief. “He did it!”
Ebba screams along with me and pulls me into a hug. His parents cheer and his mom lets tears fall freely.
Elias gets up and shakes hands with Conor. After shaking hands with the umpire, he throws his arms in the air and pumps them. The crowd erupts with even louder cheers than before.
The next thing I know, he’s running toward the crowd and climbing up and around to reach the box. He shakes hands with his coaches and hugs them, then his parents, Ebba, and then finally he’s standing in front of me.
“Hey, Whim.” He grins down at me. His eyes glimmer with excitement and something else, maybe relief.
I open my mouth to say hey back, but he doesn’t give me a chance.
He cups my cheeks gently in his large hands and in my next heartbeat his mouth is on mine. The kiss is slow and deep and probably too sensual for public consumption, but I don’t stop him. I grasp his shirt, damp with sweat. I lean back as he deepens the kiss further.
When he pulls back, he’s grinning even bigger than he was before with his dimple on full display.
“I’ve gotta go,” he whispers and gives me another quick kiss before he’s hurrying back down the aisle to get back to the court.
When I turn back to face the court I catch Jackson’s narrowed eye stare.
That look has my blood freezing in my veins. He looks suspicious to say the least. I wish I could assure him that this is still very much fake despite Elias expressing his desire for more.
Down below, the trophies are given, and speeches are made.
I hold my breath when Elias singles me out in his speech. “And Whimsy, I just want to say to you, that these short months with you have already been some of the best of my life. Whether you know it or not, you encourage me every day to push myself to be the best. Your belief in me is absolute and I cherish that. This is your win as much as it is mine. Thank you, baby.”
Ebba grabs my wrist and lets out a little, “Ooh, my brother is so in love with you.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to refute her, but Elias is still looking at me from his spot on the court and it might not be love, but there’s something more there in his gaze.
CHAPTER 36
WHIMSY
We stayin Paris for two more days as Elias does media coverage and press. There’s more to be had, but he refuses to do too much—wanting to head to the HSBC Championships ahead of Wimbledon and focus on shifting his game for the grass courts. After the win, I can tell he doesn’t want to get cocky like he has in the past. He’s dialed in and focused and not just on his singles play, but doubles too. It’s unusual for two players competing at such a high level to also play doubles, but Noah and Elias work flawlessly together despite their past bitter rivalry.
People truly can change.
