Page 83 of Ace My Heart

“I’ve watched you eat enough of them to have worked it out, Stink.”

I did turn to him then. He wasn’t chewing – he was letting it melt in his mouth, just like I would have. He gazed at me, a fierce light glinting in his eyes. His body moved closer, his leg resting up against mine. I leaned closer. He leaned closer.

His Adam’s Apple bobbed as he swallowed the last of the chocolate. I could smell the sweetness of caramel on his breath. His lips were so full, if I just moved a fraction closer, I could have tasted them.

He moved first and there it was. The tiniest brush of his mouth against mine.

No, Mel!

I turned my head very quickly to the side, shivering, although I was feeling very warm right at that moment. I put my hand up and pulled my hair over my shoulders, as if it could protect me from the fierce need inside me.

“It’s getting late and cold. I don’t want to wake up cramped in the morning,” I muttered. I knew my cheeks were bright pink. For once Joel didn’t comment and I was grateful for that. I was completely incapable of coherent conversation.

“Okay, Stink, let’s get you to bed.” He used the business-liketone of my coach, but in my head all I could picture washimgetting into my bed too.

And that was something I couldn’teverlet happen.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Drop Dead

We had three weeks until Wimbledon. We’d flown home, even though staying in Europe would probably have made more sense, because Joel still felt bad about leaving Sandra alone. I totally got it. I wanted to be home too, even if just for a fortnight.

The first morning back in my apartment, I got up late, eating a couple of slices of toast and sipping at my latte while staring out my kitchen window. It was raining. I texted Joel and asked if I could have a day off training. He replied immediately.

Joel: Of course, Stink, just try not to miss me too much x

I rolled my eyes as I grabbed my umbrella and raced out to the letterbox. That would be my exercise for the day.

The letterbox was stuffed with the usual bills and a large, padded envelope, damp at the edges, from Allied Australian Publications. My mouth twisted in confusion as I took the stairs two at a time back to my apartment.

Discarding the bills, I ripped into the parcel, pulling out three copies of Woody.

In the picture they’d chosen to use for the cover I was kneeling on the court, gripping the handle of the racquet in an overtlyphallic way. There was a handwritten note from the journalist who had interviewed me attached to the cover with a paperclip.

Mel, I hope I’ve done your story justice – and that our readers don’t miss the point entirely (spoiler alert, they might …), Kayla

I slid the note away, to see the headline they’d used for the cover story.‘I LOVE HOT SEX!’

Oh, for fuck’s sake. I rubbed my forehead. This was totally not the message I’d been trying to get across. But of course, sex was always the focus. And then I read the smaller print under the headline.

‘As long as you get my consent first.’ Mel Black talks tennis, relationships, and the infamous sex tape. Page 27.

I flicked through until I reached the feature. Another shot of me lying down, arching my back, filled one page. But there was a full article beside it. I glanced at the quote that had been highlighted in bold.

“I love exploring my sexuality, there’s nothing better than trying new things in bed. But me consenting to get adventurous with a partner isn’t blanket permission for them to act out their own fantasies without my knowledge.”

I laughed giddily as I devoured the article in its entirety. Kayla had indeed done the best she could. If it got through to just one horny teenage boy the importance of communication and consent, then I’d feel like the shit with Pete had all been worth it … somehow.

By late morning I was stir crazy. I almost called Joel to ask him to pick me up and train me. But then I mentally slapped myself

Instead, I called an Uber, and spent four hours and untold sums of money at the local Eastmeadow Shopping Centre.

Thoroughly retail-therapied out, I walked in the door of my apartment and plonked my purchases down on the kitchen table. Something fluttered to the floor.

Melanie, the creamy paper read. I unfolded the note.

Mel,

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