Page 44 of Match Point

He nodded slowly. “I can respect an honest answer. But when wedomeet, you’d better root for me.”

“I do typically like an underdog. We’ll see.” I glanced at the time. “I’m going to let you get your beauty sleep.”

“I’m this pretty with or without sleep,” he teased. “And you don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“I’ve got a broadcaster meeting first thing in the morning. And the last time I slept with a tennis player, I was late for my obligations the next day.”

“I don’t mind it when I’m on the other side of it,” Tristan said with a wink. “Although I was hoping you would stick around for more… fun.”

It was getting late, but I was intrigued. “I’m listening.”

“Well, it’s hard to explain… maybe I should justshow you.”

I yelped as he pulled me down onto the bed, rolled on top of me, and made me forget all about my obligations the next morning.

*

Most of the next day was spent with the broadcast crews at the Roland Garros facility. It was all straightforward information, but it was still good to get a feel for everything. At the Australian Open, I sat in on a couple of matches to give commentary, but at the French I would be broadcasting games every single day of the tournament. I needed to be sharp.

When I got out that afternoon, I had a few texts.

Gabriel: Where did you disappear to last night? I thought we were having fun.

Me: I was having fun too, until you gave an interview to that reporter. You suddenly became an asshole. I don’t like that side of you.

Gabriel: How was I an asshole? I do not even remember this.

Me: You made fun of Tristan Carfrae and Dominic deGrom. Insulting your potential opponents isn’t attractive. I like a man who is more humble.

Gabriel: I am the #2 player in the world. If you want humble, you should go out with one of them.

Funny you should mention that, I thought while responding.

Me: Dominic is extremely humble, and he’s the #1 ranked man in the world.

Gabriel: For now.

We didn’t text any more after that, which frustrated me. I was hoping Gabriel would apologize for his behavior, give mesomesort of excuse. If he had told me his publicist or someone wanted him to be cocky, then I could accept that—to some degree. But if he was just an asshole for the sake of being an asshole…

That wasn’t the only text I had, though.

Dominic: Can I cash in that rain check for dinner tonight?

Me: That sounds wonderful. I should be back by 6. Meet me at my hotel?

I was only halfway done getting ready when a knock came at my door. Dominic was on the other side of the peep-hole.

“You’re early,” I said. “How did you know what room I was in?”

“Being the top ranked player in the world has its benefits. The guy at the front desk is a fan. I told him I wanted to surprise you.”

“Consider me surprised.” I gestured down at myself. “I still need to change and get ready, but you’re welcome to wait here while…”

I cut off as he threw me up against the wall and kissed me.

I never got a chance to finish getting ready. In fact, we never went out for dinner at all. After a sweaty hour in bed, we ordered room service—steak frites and wine for me, and a chicken breast with rice and vegetables for Dominic.

“I’m officially eating healthy before the tournament,” he explained while we ate our food in bed.

---