Page 119 of Drop Shot
“Thank you for having me.” I paste a smile on that I hope is open and welcoming and doesn’t betray my nerves.
“I have to admit, as a lover of fashion myself, I’ve been quite envious of many of your match day outfits. This one here”—she gestures at me— “is beautiful. What’s your style inspiration?”
“Honestly, I wouldn’t say there’s exact inspiration. I just pick what I’m drawn to, and I enjoy curating outfits. Since strawberries and cream are such a staple for this event, I found myself drawn to pink today.”
“Your romantic relationship with Elias is new—is there anything you can tell us about him that might surprise fans?”
I think for a moment. I don’t want to give away anything deeply personal, but something sweet might help how he’s received.
“He watchesJurassic Parkwith me, and doesn’t mind when I’ve already made him watch it the previous day. He also got me a cute dinosaur stuffed animal because he knew it was my favorite.”
Quinn’s eyes widen in awe. “That’s so sweet.” Turning to the camera she says, “It seems Elias’s sometimes on the court tantrums don’t carry over into his real life.”
“No, not at all,” I say even though she isn’t addressing me. “I wish more people knew the real him. He’s truly the kindest person and he loves his family. He’d do anything for the people he cares about, and he has this way of making everyone feel special.”
“That’s so lovely to hear.” She smiles kindly. “You’re the first public girlfriend he’s had—what do you think has made you different than other girls he’s been spotted with?”
Her question rubs me the wrong way, but I remind myself this is her job. “For those that don’t know, I was Elias’s assistant first and I think that allowed us to get to know each other organically.” I think back to our time in Miami—how I hadn’t realized the things he’d taken note of and remembered about me. “We already knew each other inside and out. There were no surprises.”
“It’s truly been lovely to see the connection you two have. That kiss at the Roland Garros final was something.” She fans herself with her hand. “There’s no mistaking the chemistry between you two. Do you think we’ll see more of those steamy kisses if he makes it to the final here at Wimbledon?”
“You never know,” I say, trying to play coy.
“Maybe you can even bring your dinosaur stuffed animal to wave in the crowd.”
I laugh at the idea of me waving around the brachiosaurus. “I have a feeling security around here would confiscate it from me.”
“Well, we can’t have that now, can we?” She laughs and touches my wrist. “Thank you so much for chatting with us today, Whimsy, and we hope to see you again.”
The feed is cut and someone steps over to begin removing my mic so they can move on to the next interview.
“I’m sorry for the question about what makes you different than other girls. The powers that be demanded it.” She taps her ear and it’s then that I realize that she’s wearing something and someone somewhere is feeding her questions—I guess to keep things juicy.
“It’s okay. It’s not an unexpected question.”
I might not enjoy being reminded of all the women Elias has been with, but it’s a part of his past that can’t be erased.
I can’t help but wonder though—if we weren’t already outted because of the fake dating schemewouldhe have gone public with me? Hell, would we have even made it to this point?
I put a needle in those thoughts. Now is not the time to spiral. I need to get to the court for his first-round match.
I make it to my seat, joining Ebba who returned from Brighton yesterday.
“Hey.” I greet her with a smile. “How was your time with your friends?” I only saw her in passing yesterday so we haven’t had a chance to catch up.
“It was fun. Much needed after everything.”
I’ve been trying not to think about that night with Keaton—what happened, what could’ve happened, the fact that he got to go back home like he did nothing. Maybe that’s selfish of me, to not want to think about it, but I don’t want to remember those feelings of helplessness. Being scared like that is a feeling I never want to have to endure again.
Ebba and Elias’s parents join us, giving each of us a hug before they settle in their seats. Elias is lucky to have such loving parents. I’ve encountered numerous parents on tours over the years that are not kind to their adult children. All they care about is the winning and the money. I can’t imagine what it would be like growing up with parents like that.
When the match finally begins, I find myself on the edge of my seat. It’s Elias versus Trager, which always promises an interesting match for those watching. The way they battle it out on the court is intense to say the least. Even when Elias had a bitter rivalry with Noah, they didn’t play this aggressive. The way they hit the ball with such speed makes it seem like they’re hoping to hurt the other.
It's achingly hot today on the outskirts of London where Wimbledon is located and the two guys are dripping with sweat as the match goes on. Set one goes to Elias. Set two Trager. And three to Trager. I know Elias well enough to know that he’s pissed when he sits down for his quick break and yanks his water bottle out. Trager’s getting to his head.
I wish I could talk to him—tell him to play his best and not let the aggressive maneuvers trigger him. He can easily beat Trager if he doesn’t allow himself to get overwhelmed. But there’s no way for me to do that so it’s going to be up to him to figure it out.
When the fourth set begins it’s a mess. Elias is all over the place and his anger is getting to him. Jackson isn’t in the stands today, but if he’s somewhere watching this mess, I’m sure he’s about to go into cardiac arrest.
