Page 62 of Stumped

“Wanna find a table?” he asks softly, warm breath brushing against my ear.

“I see one in the corner.” I wave in the general area of the table that has the least amount of lighting on it, plus, it’s equidistant from the stage.

“Go snag it, I’ll get us drinks.”

“Hold on.” I grab his arm and he frowns, lifting his head slightly to meet my eyes. “If you go anywhere near large groups of people, they’re going to recognise you.”

“And you’re going to get pawed at,” he replies with a clench of his jaw.

“You should know me better by now. Nobody’s getting anywhere near this body. Unless they’re you.”

He doesn’t seem convinced until someone bumps into him and we notice the number of people is increasing. Sighing in defeat, he gives my hand a squeeze and walks toward the table as I head to the bar. I get us beers and push through the growing crowd to find Elias looking at his phone. I set his drink down and slide in beside him, my eyes drawn to his screen. An article from a sports website is loaded up and the headline is not in his favour.

“Why read the bullshit somepunditis saying when you know what you’ve been doing?” I ask, nudging him gently.

“I don’t know. I don’t usually care, but this guy was very positive about me when I first started out. Now he’s…”

I lean closer so he can hear me. “Does his opinion matter to you that much?”

He turns, our faces inches apart. “Not really. I…I want people to like me.”

“They do like you. They’re also envious of you and your success. That’s when assholes start writing stupid articles.”

“I take it this has happened to you a time or two?”

I shrug and take a swig of my beer. “You don’t get to where I am without everyone thinking you slept your way to the top or used your body to get investors. It’s the price anyone, especially a woman, pays to achieve greatness.”

“Seriously?”

“And it’s worse when another woman writes the article and without any sources or fact-checking or anything to back her claims. So don’t let whoever this person is undo all your hard work. He’s probably sitting behind a desk, watching you on ascreen and criticising how you play when he hasn’t attempted it even once in his life.”

He’s watching me, but I don’t take my eyes off the sound techs setting up the stage.

“You’re my hero, Vera.”

There’s something in his tone that makes me frown as I turn to him. His eyes are sparkling and his mouth is turned down slightly.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Elias.”

He shakes his head. “Just glad you’re here with me.”

There is something lingering beneath his words and while this isn’t the place to try and uncover what’s going on with him, I know we’ll have to talk about it eventually.

“I’m happy to be here with you too,” I say and press my lips to his. His hand strokes along my jaw before he cups my face and deepens the kiss. A content sigh slips from me as I lean in for more, the thunder of drums breaking us apart with a start.

“Hello Chennai! Welcome to the Marquee, we’re Comma Toes and you’re in for one hell of a show!”

Twenty. Swoooooon

Elias

It takes me a while, but I finally close the article and put my phone away. Vera’s right, this asshole doesn’t know how hard it is to play the sport. Or how difficult it is to come back after an injury the way I did.

Instead, I focus on Vera.

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