Page 86 of Game Point
She dipped underneath my arm, leaving the bathroom without any more fuss, before sauntering down the hallway, leaving me standing awestruck. Before I knew what I was doing, I had my own retort locked and loaded.
‘Yeah, well, you might want to keep your volume down during yournight-time activities.’ I watched her turn, pausing in the doorway to her bedroom. I thought of that night when I’d overheard her. It had been hard to forget, when I’d spent countless nights recalling those very moans as she’d called out my name. ‘These walls are incredibly thin. You never know what your housemate might overhear. Maybe try a cold shower yourself.’
The redness that had subsided across her cheeks burned hotter. But if she felt any embarrassment, she quickly managed to control it again. ‘I’ll keep it down, roomie.’
Catching my reflection in the mirror, it hit me like a ton of bricks. The realization of how utterly and completely fucked I was to be sharing a roof with Dylan Bailey.
29
Oliver
Too Much – Carly Rae Jepsen
‘I’m telling you, she could’ve made that shot,’ I said, pointing at the TV, a tennis match we were reviewing ahead of travelling to the Brisbane International. The past few weeks had been filled with intense practice, Dylan working hard to get into great shape ahead of the first competition of the year.
The lead-up event kicked off New Year’s Eve, and our plan was to fly in a couple days early, to make sure Dylan was comfortable in her hotel before the tournament started. It would end a week before Melbourne, the Australian Open, and gave us the perfect opportunity to let Dylan test everything we had been working on during a real event.
Dylan waved me off, pointing at Scottie on the large TV screen. ‘She had no chance. She was half the court away.’
‘Don’t underestimate Scottie Sinclair. She’s only getting faster.’
‘Don’t underestimate her? Don’t overestimate.’ She rolled her eyes, confidence biting on every word. ‘She’s good but I can take her on a bad day.’
I narrowed my eyes at her. ‘You’ve lost to her before.’
“I’ve alsowonagainst that hack. Anyway, Inés has gother here.’ I leaned forward, grabbing a handful of grapes we’d set out as a snack.
Scottie missed the return, Dylan turning to me, a wide satisfied grin on her lips. ‘Told you.’ She threw a grape up in the air, catching it in her mouth.
‘Have you seen this match before?’ I asked. It was a few weeks old but we’d been spending almost all of our time together and this was one I’d been saving to watch. She shook her head. ‘Then how did you know she’d miss it?’
Dylan looked at me with a bemused expression, her head tilted slightly to one side, a mixture of perplexity and faint amusement playing across her soft features. ‘Um? I know their plays. I’ve studied them both for years.’
‘So have I.’
‘Yeah, but I’ve been on the court with them. Not to mention training camps.’ She turned towards the screen. Her voice drowned the commentary out. ‘Inés is aggressive on the baseline, she plays a lot of ground strokes. Meanwhile Scottie has this stupid slice she likes to pull out during serves. It’s very annoying. She’s cocky, but it can be her downfall too.’
I watched the match, tracking all she had pointed out. She was right. Certain things she had said were well known: they had the courts they performed better on, for example, hard court had always been Dylan’s preference, compared to Inés’ win on clay. But she’d managed to use their off-court personalities and translate it into on-court behaviour as well.
I asked, curious to what she thought, ‘And what is your style?’
Her dark eyes turned to me, her words laced with determination. ‘I play to win.’
‘I’m pretty sure they are playing like that too.’
‘But I do it better.’
I didn’t argue with her, enjoying seeing the competitor coming out, no matter the vicious edge it held. It was what had made her such a good player, her drive. Watching her play, before I’d even known her personally, had always been a treat. She wasn’t a player most rooted for, not because she was necessarily unlikeable, but because she was brutal with her playing on court. She’d wear her opponents down, play hard, win hard. It’s why it was such a contrast to her playing style in finals. She had the ability to win, there was no doubt of that, but it seemed like she got in her own way.
I couldn’t wait to see the result of everything we’d been working on. I wanted to watch her lift her own trophy, as much as I remembered wanting my own.
Dylan’s phone vibrated on the table in front of us. She held her device up, scanning the screen.
‘Oh wait, I have to take this.’ She answered the call, lifting it to her ear. ‘Hi Avery – what’s up?’
She shifted, pulling herself up and walking away for some privacy. I tried my best not to watch her leave, or to stare at her ass in the tight leggings she was wearing. I forced my eyes back to the screen, watching as the match restarted, Scottie having taken the first set.
This was torture.And what was worse, it was all a situation of my own making, but one I couldn’t quite regret. I was turning into a masochist because of her. Living with the torment of being close to her, but keeping our relationship squarely in the friend zone.
