Page 14 of Match Point

“So you’re not dating anyone right now?” Miranda casually tried to take a sip of her drink, then remembered that it was empty.

“No,” I said with a smile. “I’m happily single.”

“There are worse things to be,” she replied with a smile of her own.

The two of us stared at each other for a long time.

“Well, I think I’ve had enough of this party,” Miranda said, standing and stretching. I tried not to admire the way she looked in her dress. “Do you mind if I get a quick selfie with you for my Instagram story?”

“Go to hell,” I replied with a chuckle.

“What? I bet you would double my daily impressions. That’s the only reason I hung out with you, after all.”

I took out my own phone and wrapped an arm around Miranda’s waist, pulling her close to me. She put one hand on my hip and let the other one rest on my chest as I held my phone up, taking a selfie of the two of us.

“Aw, you ruined it by making that face,” I said.

“What?” she asked innocently. “Don’t guys like it when a woman makes a face like a duck?” She repeated the exaggerated face, causing her lips to bulge out like someone who’d had one too many Botox injections.

“Take another one. Seriously this time.”

She leaned in close again, molding her body to mine. Her scent overwhelmed me, flowery and more intoxicating than the lemon vodka spritz. I wanted to hold that pose forever, to savor the way her waist felt in my palm, and the tickle of her hair against my cheek.

The screen flashed, and we pulled apart.

“You’d better tag me in that post.” She aimed a warning finger at me. “I could use the impressions.”

“I’m not posting this one,” I replied. “This selfie is just for me.”

“Okay, weirdo,” she replied, but her smile was more genuine now. “Good luck in your match tomorrow.”

“I don’t need luck. I’m well-rested because my alarm doesn’t go off until seven.”

She giggled, then gave a little wave and turned away from me.

I can’t let her walk away from me again. I can’t go another fourteen years without seeing her.

“Miranda?” I blurted out.

She paused and turned back around.

“There’s a bar at the hotel where I’m staying,” I found myself saying. “I’m only going to have water, but I’d love to buy you a drink.”

I saw her think about it. Those dark eyes held a thousand and one thoughts. I was terrified she might say no… but I was just as scared she might say yes. What did I want to happen?

“No thanks,” she said.

A dagger to my heart. “No worries, I—”

“Does your room have a minibar?” she asked. “Because I’d rather have one ofthosedrinks.”

I smiled. “I think it does.”

7

Miranda

Fourteen years ago, I had kissed a handsome boy at the Academy. I didn’t really know him back then, beyond his notorious skill on the tennis court and popularity among the other students. I had thisideaof Dominic deGrom, an idea that had fermented in my mind in the years since, maturing like a fine wine. And even though our careers had similar trajectories, it still felt like we had been worlds apart for the last decade.

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