Page 67 of Stumped

We gather all the containers and once everything is back in the paper bag, Tamara leaves. I grab my things and head to the conference room where on the screen is the most gorgeous picture of Elias. He’s shirtless and sweaty, bat and helmet in hand, as he laughs with Bash. He left early this morning to practise and prep for their match this evening, and because he’s so busy our texts have been few and far between. And seeing these pictures makes me miss him.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Thomas.”

I turn away from the screen and smile at the enthusiastic group. “Looks like you’ve got great news.”

They laugh and nod as the team leader steps up to the screen and starts the presentation. “With how well Elias is playing and the partnerships he’s building with Bash, we were thinking they could be a huge piece of our marketing strategy. Reels featuring the duo do the best, photographs of their teamwork and friendship also drives the traction up. And every time they interact with each other on Instagram, the fans go nuts.”

“How are you going to leverage that?”

A presentation featuring images and videos of the two men fill the screen as the team takes me through their ideas. It’s very distracting and I’m surprised I even register what they’re saying, because half of the footage has Elias shirtless. I know every inch of his body and I’ve traced his muscles with my mouth, but it’s something else to see him inathletemode. In my flat, he’s just the guy I’m falling for. But to my entire team, he’s a fucking superstar. My heart clenches at how happy he looks to be back on the pitch, because it’s where he belongs.

When they finish, I clap because it’s a damn good plan and one I know will get the Renegades the kind of social media and marketing traction they want. They stay on in the room while I head back to my office with the intention of reviewing this presentation once before it goes to the client. But I’m distracted by the note stuck to my computer screen written in Tamara’s pretty, loopy handwriting:

Step one: Forget about the assholes in your past

Step two: Tell HIM how you feel

Step three: Get us free tickets

If you want company watching the match tonight, you know where to find me. Love you!

Despite wantingcompany to watch the match and hoping to finish all my work by five, I’m still stuck at my desk at seven. My iPad plays the cricket match between the Chennai Renegadesand the Bengaluru Mavericks, and my attention is split between the game and the work I have to complete. Their rivalry is well-known and even with the volume on low, I can hear the chanting and booing from our home fans. If there’s one thing we’re really good at, it’s being a menace for visiting teams.

The Mavericks are close to a hundred runs with only one wicket and if they continue at this pace, the Renegades are going to have a tough time catching up. I chew on my lip and watch as the striking batter taps the ball gently and starts running. The fielders are doing a piss poor job and I canfeelthe disappointment rolling off the fans at Chepauk?1.

I shake off my frustrations and return to work, looking up every so often to check the score. By the time I’m done replying to urgent emails and filtering things James can handle in the morning, the first innings are over. There’s a small break allowing the Renegades to get their shit together. I shut my laptop and stand, stretching my arms over my head before bending to touch my toes. If I leave the office now, I’ll get stuck in traffic and miss the Renegades batting. Staying where I am is the smarter choice.

With footage of the Chepauk stadium in the background, the line-up for the Renegades fills the screen. Elias will be the sixth player to come on, so they’re banking on him to save the day.

The Renegades barely get any runs in the first two overs and by the time the third one ends, I’ve chewed on my bottom lip so hard, I can taste blood. I get up and start pacing again. Now the volume is turned up, so even if I’m not looking at the screen, I can hear the commentators. Andtheysound concerned. Untying and retying my hair, I spin around when a loud cheer goes up and notice someone hit a boundary?2. Not a big win, it was only a four, but it’s still better than the single runs they’ve taken so far.

When the Powerplay?3 ends and the fielders?4 are shifted around, I hold my breath. The Renegades have to get their shittogether in the next fourteen overs?5, or we’re screwed. The first wicket?6 comes through in the middle of the seventh over, the second soon after. My heart is racing as Bash steps onto the field. Even with his helmet on, I can tell he’s angry and I hope that helps him. He takes every shot and whacks the ball hard enough that the Renegades score rises steadily.

Another two wickets fall, but Bash stays strong. At this point, the only reason the Renegades haven’t lost is because of him. The fifth wicket falls and I exhale loudly. Because Elias is walking onto the field. His body language shows he’s tense and determined. The camera pans to his face as he steps up into the striking spot and scratches his shoes against the pitch. Even with all the bright lights in the stadium, his helmet is protecting me from seeing his face.

“You got this, superstar. Breathe and swing,” I mumble, watching him get into position. The crowd is chanting his name as he rolls his shoulders back and nods. The bowler makes his run up and I hold my breath as Elias hits the ball high up into the stands, then I release a shaky breath and cross my fingers.

The Renegades lost.

Elias did his best, but in the end, the starting batters really failed to set them up with good numbers. Plus, the Mavericks fielders were in top form tonight. It’s a miracle the Renegades got the runs they did. He might have scored the highest number of boundary shots, but they were nothing compared to how he’d played the last few games.

When the last ball flew into the stands, barely helping the Renegades scrape through, I was packed up and rushing out ofthe office. I knew it would be ridiculous to even attempt it, but getting to him was all I could think about. However, it seems like most people chose to leave then as well causing pile-ups everywhere between the office and my apartment. What should have taken me thirty minutes, took me an hour and a half.

I hurry up to my floor, hands rummaging in my bag for the key when a shadow outside my front door draws me to a stop. He lifts his head, bloodshot eyes meeting mine under the brim of his cap. My heart drops to my stomach as he opens his mouth to speak and gives up. I hold my hands out, pulling Elias to his feet and guide us into my flat. I don’t bother turning on the lights. We walk to my bathroom where I help him strip out of his clothes before doing the same with mine. He moves slowly, like it physically pains him to do anything. I push him under the shower and lather soap onto both our bodies. He stands there, head dipped low and breathing shakily. Once I rinse us off and hand him the towel, he finally looks at me, the sadness in his eyes piercing my soul.

“Hi.”

“Hi, baby,” I whisper and he whimpers. “Let’s get you into bed.”

He nods and lets me tug him into the room. I pull the covers back and turn on the air conditioner. He takes off the towel, climbs into the middle bed and lays on his back. I slip in beside him and press myself against his side.

Elias sighs. “I failed tonight.”

“You didn’t fail.”

“Will you still love me if I keep failing?” he asks, completely ignoring my statement.

My heart falters at the pain in his voice and the choice of words, but I don’t hesitate when I say, “Of course.”

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