Page 94 of Drop Shot
I glower at him.
“What?” he laughs. “Trust me, I know how woman troubles can make you feel. I was a beast on the court when I was frustrated with being so attracted to Sabrina.
“And now admitting your love has mellowed you out?” I ask with a humorless laugh.
His laughter is more genuine than mine. “Yeah, something like that. You can talk to me, you know? I’m not going to judge you for whatever is going on.” His brows knit. “Unless you were a jerk. Then I’ll judge you.”
Noah’s like a dog with a bone when he gets going. I know he isn’t going to let this go until I open up. At this point I’m starting to believe that Noah is my unofficial therapist.
“I asked Whimsy to date me for real, and she said no.”
It hurts even worse saying it out loud and I feel like an even bigger crybaby. I can handle rejection, but fuck this feels different.
Noah throws his head back and laughs. “Oh, god. This is incredible. She turned you down? I bet your ego is cowering in the corner whimpering right now.”
Frowning, I pick at the label around the bottle. “I know she’s into me. I can feel it. But she’s scared.”
Sobering, Noah says, “Then be patient with her. If you think she’s the one, then give her time.”
“The one?” I repeat. Is that what I’m thinking? That she might be my forever?
My stomach drops with the realization that deep down, thatiswhat I think, and it’s why I’m handling this so poorly. I wasn’t aware of it, but some part of my brain was already thinking about the future. Putting a ring on her finger, buying a house for her, figuring out whether she can get pregnant or if she would need help or even a surrogate. Unconsciously, my mind was putting bricks into place and creating a path to a life I’ve never contemplated before. My sole focus has been tennis since I was about twelve years old as crazy as it sounds. Dating for real—for the purpose of finding a partner—hasn’t been a priority. I’ve satisfied myself with hookups and I’ve always been fine with that. Until now. The idea of being with anyone other than Whimsy right now makes my stomach hurt.
“Falling in love is scary,” he says in a softer tone. “Trust me. I’ve done it twice. But it’s worth it. Even when it hurts.”
I know he’s thinking of his wife who passed from cancer years ago. It was hard for him, and he didn’t play for an entire year because of it.
I acknowledge what he’s said with a nod. “I think she might be scared that I’m not serious. That I’ll change my mind.”
“Okay,” he drawls the word. “Then just make sure in little ways that you’re showing her you care. Don’t force anything on her, though.”
“I won’t. I wouldn’t do that.”
“Good.” He claps me on the shoulder. “Now get your ugly face out of here. I have a practice to finish with a hitting partner that isn’t trying to kill me.”
Laughing, I pack up my stuff. “All right. See you later.”
After showering and changing my clothes, I catch one of the vans and have it take me to the apartment. On my way up, I hear shouting coming from one of the apartments.
It’s as I get closer that I realize it’s mine.
CHAPTER 31
ELIAS
I sprintup the rest of the stairs. Fumbling with the keys in my pocket as I reach the door. I manage to get them in the lock despite my shaky fingers.
What the hell is going on?
I burst inside, my eyes darting frantically around. Keaton’s hand strikes Ebba’s cheek and I’m moving in a heartbeat. Wrapping my arm around his neck, I drag him back as Ebba sobs and Whimsy scurries from the corner she was cowering in to comfort my sister.
“Get off me.” Keaton tries to buck me off, his breath reeking of alcohol. I’m cursing myself for hanging around the courts longer than necessary and wallowing in my own pathetic self-pity.
“Not a fucking chance, dude.” I drag him out of the apartment and I’m not sure how, but he manages to get out of my hold, and tries to run back toward the girls.
I grab his arm and he swings around with a fist. It grazes my cheek as I try to lean out of the way. In the next second I’m sinking my fist into his ribs. He gasps as the breath is pulled from his lungs.
“What the fuck, Keaton?” I curse. “What’s wrong with you?”
