Page 2 of Game Point
At least it meant there was nobody to hear me cry and sob so hard it rattled my already pained and aching body.
2
Dylan
Homemade Dynamite – Lorde
‘He’s cute.’ I nudged Inés sharply with my elbow but kept my eyes trained on the tall, broad man. The splash of freckles across his nose was clear from the other side of the room.
I’ve never slept with a redhead before. I bet he’d burst into flames every time he steps into sunlight.
Inés’ attention pulled away from her phone, where she’d been texting God-knows-who, and followed my line of sight, across the busy kitchen filled with the familiar faces of competitors and supporters alike. We were tucked into a corner of a swanky Manhattan apartment belonging to another tennis player, Scottie Sinclair, the competition having come to a close just hours before.
‘Ruari?’ she barked, the loudness of her voice lost to the crowd. ‘No. Not armed with athousandcondoms.’
I washed down my own laugh with some of the expensive champagne. ‘I’m not sure I trust your opinion on this one.’
‘I’m gay. Not blind.’ She rolled her eyes, taking a long sip from her own glass. ‘He has slept with every girl on the tour, and if you get stuck with a baby, it will be the spawn of Satan.’
‘Every girl, except for me.’
Her expression was unamused, a perfectly waxed eyebrow raised in surprise. ‘That is not the challenge you think it is.’
‘You said you were going to be supportive tonight.’ Inés opened her mouth to respond but I cut her off with a wagging finger. ‘Wingwoman of the century was your promise.’
And the only reason you convinced me to come. That, and Scottie’s expensive taste in champagne.
Thankfully, she’d at least allowed me to spend last night after the women’s final alone. My regular ritual of crying in a corner, ordering wings from the hotel room service, and then crying again in the bathtub to get rid of all the sauce. My classic ‘you lost again’ tradition. Bathe away the sadness with smoky chipotle BBQ sauce.
She was silent, so I pushed again. ‘Besides, I never thought you’d be so judgemental.’
Of course, I knew who Ruari Reilly was. He was ranked number 3 in the men’s competition, and number 1 hottie on tour. And there was the added fact he’d just gone and won the US Open. There were countless stories of his exploits, none of which I’d ever been interested in until Inés called me up, begging me to come with her to the party.
‘I know you know him,’ I crooned, pushing her slightly. ‘You had to do promo together after Roland Garros last year. And you did the joint campaign together for ELITE. You should introduce me.’
Inés looked reluctantly across the room. ‘I’d like to register my complaint at this terrible idea.’
‘Give me one good reason not to introduce me.’ Her mouth opened to answer me, and I cut her off before shehad a chance to start. ‘Other than the man-whoreness. That’s not a problem here.’
‘He’s really full of himself.’
‘If all goes to plan, I’ll be the one full of him.’
She grimaced. ‘God, I hate the straights.’
‘So do I, babe.’ I laughed at my closest friend. ‘But we do make populating the earth a much more straightforward task.’
‘This might be the weirdest conversation I’ve ever had with you.’ She downed the rest of her champagne. ‘Fine. Let’s go. I’ll introduce you.’
A small wave of relief washed through me. I’d begun to worry she’d only forced me along so she could make me talk about yesterday. She stormed ahead, intercepting a waiter on the way over and swapping her empty glass for a new one. Well, at least she meant business. She took a long sip as she reached him, the person Ruari was speaking to dismissing themselves, leaving him alone. I was barely by her side in time for the introduction.
‘Reilly. Good match today. Meet Dylan Bailey,’ she said, with the driest greeting I’d ever heard. My head swivelled towards her, registering there might be something more to her dislike of him. Inés was nice to everyone. Outside of competition, she was everyone’s best friend, a total people pleaser at heart.
But if her demeanour caught Ruari off guard, it didn’t show. A sly smile curved onto his lips as he repeated my name back. ‘Dylan Bailey. Nice to meet you.’
‘Congrats on your new trophy.’
He shrugged. ‘It’s a replica, but it will still look great in the case.’
