I took another step forward, unsure how else to convince him. ‘I swear it’s professional.’
‘First you said you were friendly. Now it’s professional.’
‘I can’t win with you today.’
‘Nope. And I am enjoying it.’
I sighed, trying to find the right words to show him how much he was blowing this out of proportion. ‘The point is that it’s not personal. I think she can win, and I want to help her do it.’
‘Why? Why her? There are hundreds of other players.Thousands,’ he pointed out.
I didn’t need to consider my answer. ‘There’s something about her style. I’ve followed her career for years.’
‘Really?’
‘The way she plays, her consistency is almost unmatched.’ I swallowed, thinking back. I never told her last night, played it cool as if I didn’t watch every match of hers I could. ‘She’s brutal and unforgiving. She doesn’t play like she loves to win. She plays like she can’t possibly stand to lose.’
It was something to watch, a player with that level of killer instinct. The tennis player in me watched in fear, terrified of a prospect of ever playing across from her. The fan, however, watched in absolute glee at the power she had on court.
That was, until she got to the final, and I was forced to sit and watch her spiral out. Something changed between the semi and the finals; it was like watching an entirely different person play. Sometimes, when I managed to catch her matches, I found myself yelling at the screen, pulling at my hair. It was like watching a car crash in slow motion and I was trapped, screaming and helplessly trying to get it all to stop.
‘You sound like a fan.’
‘I am,’ I answered easily.
‘And that’s all this is?’
‘If … if you and Scottie broke up, how long do you think it would be before you’d think about dating again?’ I asked, knowing his answer before he’d even had a chance to say it.
‘I don’t know. I don’t feel like I’d ever recover,’ he said as I ignored the tug of jealousy. Those early days, so simple and uncomplicated. I knew he was serious about her, knew he believed this was it. Forever. And as much as I wanted that for him, the dark sceptic of experience answered differently.
‘That’s where I am. I’m not looking because I’m not ready. I lost my Scottie. I just … There’s this giant hole in my life, and tennis … I’m not sure it’s big enough to fill it.’
He nodded, and I thought for a moment Nico understood me. Then he opened his mouth and asked, ‘So you want her to fill your hole?’
There was nothing on this earth that would have stopped me as I dropped a ball, hitting it towards where he stood at the net. His hands rose to cover his face as he crouched, the ball hitting his side. ‘Classy as ever, Kotas.’
‘You said it. Not me,’ he defended as he pulled his racket out. ‘Now, enough with the feelings talk. It’s time for me to teach you some lessons in humility.’
I laughed, turning my back on him as I stretched my shoulders, readying myself for another battle against Nico Kotas. The sooner this man retired, the better. ‘Do your worst, granddad.’
DYLAN
You’re the one who suggested a round.
And youdidspecify expensive.
So … who was it that gave you this number?
OLIVER
I have my sources.
DYLAN
I have a question
OLIVER