Page 89 of Game Point
‘I can’t believe people survive in this damn country.’
‘Hey! We turned out alright.’ Her hands slipped from mine as she stretched out her arms instead, her hands shaking in jazz hands. ‘Self-sufficient, reliable, able to get rid of tiny insects.’
‘Bratty,’ I retorted.
She brushed her hair over her shoulder, face betraying no emotion. ‘I have no idea what you mean.’
She turned, heading towards her bedroom, speaking over her shoulder. ‘Good night, Coach.’
‘Sleep tight, brat.’
She stopped momentarily in her tracks, like the nickname had struck her like lightning. She barely looked back at me as she closed the door behind her.
I was left, standing in the hallway, completely undone by Dylan Bailey, entirely too tempted by the thoughts of following her inside, even just for one more minute with her.
30
Dylan
Down Swinging – Holly Humberstone
I didn’t want to enjoy the thrill of watching Scottie Sinclair secure a point against an opponent. But a few days after settling in Brisbane, when Oliver’s suggestion of a doubles match against the couple of Sinclair and Kotas had found us on the same team, battling against the boys, I found I had no other choice.
Across the net, Nico and Oliver yelled at each other, bickering over whose fault their last lost point was. But in truth, they didn’t stand a fucking chance against us.
Scottie beamed over at me like the ray of flipping sunshine she was, and all I could do was nod my head once in acceptance, the barest crinkle of a smile playing on my lips.
We were playing best of three, and into the second set after Scottie and I had taken the first – with a decent battle from the boys. But with the score 4–2 in our favour, I was starting to feel cocky compared to these suckers. Even a friendly match was still a match, and I loved winning.
We’d even drawn a little crowd as we played on the practice courts, fans who’d arrived early to the tournament gathering around the fence, celebrating as we scored against the boys.
‘Nico looks a little slow today. I think we can catch himout with that.’ Scottie met me in the middle of the court, the ball held in her hand.
I raised an eyebrow, looking from her to Nico. ‘You’re quick to turn on lover boy.’
Scottie twirled the racket in her hand. ‘When he’s on the other side of the court, he can wear the hell out of those tiny shorts all he likes, but I’m still going to fucking win.’
‘First of all, gross,’ I grimaced, trying not to think of Nico Kotas’s tiny shorts.Just wear some goddamn clothes that fit, man. ‘Second, I think Oliver will cover him. His ego is too massive to let us win just because your boyfriend is slow and old.’
Scottie smirked. ‘Just hisegois massive?’
I made a noise in disgust. ‘Really?’ I asked. ‘Are we playing tennis or are we having a sleepover, braiding hair and chatting about boys?’
Before we’d found common ground, Scottie and I had attended the same training camp, barely lasting a few weeks together. I couldn’t imagine the chaos of being trapped in a room with Sinclair, watchingSleepless in Seattle. Which one of us would make it out alive?
But instead of matching my horror, Scottie’s face lit up with delight. ‘Is that option on the table?’ She rested her racket on her shoulder. ‘Because I’ll call this right now. I have a hook-up on a chocolate fountain ready to go.’
I threw my head back, closing my eyes as I silently begged for strength and mercy.And try to forget about how good a chocolate fountain sounded.‘No, it’s not an option. Just pass me the ball so I can serve.’
‘Not until you tell me if you’ve seen Oliver’s balls.’
‘Pass it over.’ I stretched my hand towards her.
She threw the green ball up in the air, catching it perfectly. ‘Spill me the tea.’
‘There is no tea.’ I gritted my teeth together, wondering if this was her revenge for all the shit I’d given her about dating Kotas.
‘Bullshit.’ She threw the ball again, teasing me.
