Page 104 of Ace My Heart

“How are you feeling about Wimbledon, Stinky?” he asked. The sudden change of topic caught me slightly off guard, and I paused for a moment to figure out my answer.

“I feel okay. I feel probably about the same as I do going into any tournament. I think my fitness is much better, thanks to you.” I looked down at him, and he grinned back, winking.

“Well, at least I’m doingsomethingright,” he said.

“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked him, intrigued. His eyes slid away from mine.

“Nothing, forget I said that,” he muttered, but there was absolutely something he wasn’t telling me. I leaned back against the steps until my face was parallel with his.

“I know you don’t ‘owe me your secrets’,” I began, using a fake deep voice to quote his words back to him, “but … I’m here and I can handle the hard stuff, if you want to talk to me.”

He met my eyes, his own dark and … hungry. He stared at me in silence for a long time.

“You have the most beautiful eyes, Mel, like melted chocolate,” he whispered, catching me off guard and making me forget what I’d said in the first place. I blushed and looked away, afraid that if I held his gaze, I wouldn’t be able to hold myself back from him. I sat up swiftly.

Joel sat up beside me. “Come on, training time.”

I nodded without looking at him and he stood, pulling me up by our still joined hands.

I couldn’t voice it, but I’d just realised that whenever I asked him something that he didn’t feel comfortable answering, he turned to seduction to distract me. I wondered why that was, but I knew that if I asked he’d just do it again, and I wasn’t sure that my resolve could handle itanothertime today.

Besides, I had the biggest tournament of the year just aroundthe corner. I forcefully pushed all the little intriguing questions about Joel out of my head.

I had to focus on Wimbledon. I wasn’t just playing for myself anymore. I was playing for Natalie. For Natalie who couldn’t realise her dreams because of circumstances out of her control. And for Steve, who’s dream it had been to see me succeed, and that had been taken away from him too.

Like I needed any more pressure to perform.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Adjectives

Iwiped the sweat from my face. The weather in London was uncharacteristically muggy. I set my jaw and walked back onto the court for set two of round one. Against Yu Yang.

The little Chinese girl looked like she hadn’t even broken a sweat in the first set, the one she’d won in a tie breaker. Well at least it had gotten to a tie breaker. I had to win this next set. I couldn’t face the shame of bowing out in round one, when everyone had such high hopes for me.

Please God, I begged silently, pitifully.Please let me get past round one, for Natalie’s sake.

I took my place at the baseline to serve.

God must have listened to me.

All the doubts that were lurking inside me vanished, to be replaced by steely determination. I eyed Yu Yang calculatingly as I served. She was good. She was freakishly good. But I was going to beat her.

The further into the game I got the surer I became. The second set was mine six four. I’d found my form. The third set was even more decisive – six two. As the crowd applauded and I shook Yu Yang’s hand over the net, I waited for happiness to settle over me. Or relief. Or anything, really.

Nope … just low-level anxiety, bubbling away in the pit of my stomach like a simmering pot, just waiting for someone to turn up the heat and watch it explode.

I was subdued as I completed my press conference and my recovery. I was morose as I inhaled my chicken and rice. I was downright miserable in the car on the way back to the serviced apartments we were staying in.

Joel watched me surreptitiously as I climbed out of the car. He knew something was up, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to talk to him about it. I wasn’t sure that he’d understand.

I did some yoga to try and clear my mind, but I still felt mopey. I watched some British TV to try and distract myself, but that didn’t work either. It didn’t help that I could feel Joel watching me the whole time, and that made me think about the things I was trying tostopmyself thinking about.

Joel served up steak and salad for dinner and I plonked myself down at the dining table, picking at it grumpily. Joel sighed.

“You’re fretting, Stink,” he said. I shrugged and Joel leaned closer. “What’s up? You should be fired up – you had a decisive win and you’ve got a day off tomorrow.”

I moved a cherry tomato around on my plate. “It’s nothing,” I muttered.

---