Page 27 of Drop Shot
I’ve never been a nail biter, but I find myself chewing on the edge of my thumbnail through the entire final set. Like the previous two, it’s neck and neck the entire time, even going into a tiebreak.
It would be devastating for Elias to lose in the first-round matches. Normally, he’d be dominating against his opponent. It’s not that the other guy is bad, but he doesn’t have the same level of experience as Elias.
It becomes clear to me as they battle it out, that I’m going to have to find some way to help him get out of his head if he manages to cinch this win.
“Elias, come on,” I mutter under my breath.
And that’s when he gets the match winning point and the crowd in the stands explodes into cheers. Elias is well-liked by spectators wherever he goes, but especially as an American player on American soil.
He fist pumps the air and meets his opponent at the net to shake hands before they take turns exchanging handshakes with the umpire.
Elias claps and waves to the crowd. I hope he’s soaking in the cheers. He deserves it.
For some insane reason, it escaped my mind about the kiss until the moment he starts toward the player box. My eyes widen, knowing what part I’m going to have to play.
He jogs over to our courtside section and hops up. He’s covered in sweat and sporting a happy grin.
“Hey, Whim.”
I wet my lips, casting my nervous eyes over him. “Hey.”
“You gonna give me my kiss now?”
I can feel eyes trained our way. Thank God it’s not a game later in the tournament or the stadium would be entirely filled. Regardless, it’s full enough because Elias always draws a crowd.
I lean toward him. “Yeah?”
Crap. It shouldn’t have sounded like a question.
He cups the back of my head and gives me a split-second look that seems to saytrust me. I give a tiny nod in return and then he presses his lips to mine. His mouth is fully on mine, thumb stroking my cheek in a gentle caress. I can’t help but lean into his touch. He pulls away after a few seconds and winks before jogging off.
I settle back in my seat and do my best to ignore the attention I’m receiving. Displays of affection like that at a match are rare, and usually if they do happen it’s at a final. I curse Jackson for making us do this now of all times. I understand it’s our best chance for exposure. It’s not like paparazzi follow most professional sports people around, but I wish he would’ve come up with some other plan that didn’t makemethe center of attention.
I wave awkwardly when the camera remains on me.
“I’m going to throw up,” I whisper under my breath to Ebba.
She bumps my arm lightly. “Please, not on my new shoes. These are Hermes.”
“I’ll do my best to hold it together.”
Elias packs up his racket and then he’s off the court with another wave to the crowd.
Ebba gives my elbow a slight bump with her own. “All right. Let’s go.”
CHAPTER 8
ELIAS
“That was tooclose for comfort, man.”
I shouldn’t be surprised by Jackson cornering me after my much-needed shower post interviews, and yet, I am.
“I won, didn’t I?” I retort.
“Barely. Let’s chat.” He tries to pull me off to the side, but I shake off his hold easily enough.
“I’m not in the mood, right now. I’ve done everything you’ve asked for me—Whimsy, the kiss—what could you possibly want now?”
