Page 64 of Drop Shot
“I’m going to learn, though,” he says, taking a sip of water from the glass the waiter fills. “I’d like to be fluent in those one day. Add it to my repertoire.”
I can’t imagine knowing so many languages. He’s already fluent in English and Swedish thanks to his mom, but Spanish too? And potentially two more languages? My brain would explode.
We give our order, and I ask Elias, “So, what language do you think in?”
“English,” he answers without hesitation. “If I’ve been speaking Swedish a lot with my mom then sometimes certain words slip their way in, but it’s usually always English.”
“That’s fascinating to me.”
I stare at my hand where it trembles slightly around the glass cup.
I’m never sure if the tremors are from the lupus itself, or my medicine, but I suppose it doesn’t really matter. It’s still an annoyance regardless of the origin—a blatant physical reminder that I can’t escape my illness.
“Hey,” Elias says softly, stealing my attention back to him. “What’s wrong?”
I let out a sigh and prop my elbow on the table, chin in my hand. Holding up my opposite hand I show him the slight quiver.
“I know it doesn’t look like much, but it still affects me.”
He reaches out and laces our fingers together, settling them on the table.
I stare for a moment at our linked hands. There’s no one we know nearby, and it’s not like paparazzi follow tennis players around so there’s really no reason for him to hold my hand unless hewantsto—which is crazy. This isn’t real. We both know that. So why does it seem like he’s always searching for a reason to touch me.
I don’t pull my hand away, even if I should.
It’s not until our breakfast is brought out that he finally relinquishes his hold. Immediately, I feel like something is missing and I’d rather not dwell on why I feel that way.
When we finish eating, I pull out my wallet to pay.
“Not a chance.” Elias shakes his head, brandishing his card.
I roll my eyes. “I have money. I can pay.”
“I’m aware, but you’re not going to.”
I have to bite my tongue not to argue with him. Something tells me he’d get too much enjoyment out of me trying.
Heading out of the café, Elias leads me easily through the streets by the hand. I don’t see how he’s had time to figure his way around all these cities since his time is always filled with all things tennis.
Except…
I swallow down the sudden sour taste of jealousy.
It’s no secret that Elias is a bit of a ladies’ man, besides his talent and temper on the court the other thing that’s brought up with this name is all the beautiful women he’s seen with. That’s probably how he knows his way around so well. I’m just another girl allowing myself to be wooed by him.
I picture an animated cartoon of myself jumping up and down on my own heart in an attempt to squelch this stupid, raging crush I’ve had on my boss for way too long. This is a job, just like being his assistant was, and I shouldn’t forget that.
I tug my hand from his. I can tell at first that he doesn’t want to let go, but when he realizes I’m insistent he releases me, giving me a furrowed brow expression.
“Something wrong?” he asks.
I shake my head. His puzzlement doesn’t dissolve.
I’m not going to let my sudden bout of annoyance and jealousy get in the way of the shopping I planned to do.
Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately depending on your perspective, Elias follows me around each store like a dutifulrealboyfriend. Even whipping out his card at each location to pay for my spoils.
“Stop that,” I hiss as we leave the third shop.
