Page 136 of Drop Shot
With so many hours spent on the courts it’s hard to make time for friendships as terrible as that sounds.
“Yeah,” he sighs. “I guess it’s wishful thinking on my part.”
I laugh and bend over, stuffing my equipment in my bag. “Who would’ve ever thoughtyou’dbe the one trying to get everyone together?”
“I know, I know,” he groans. “What have I become?”
I pat his shoulder. “Noah Baker. Our little social butterfly.”
“Shut up,” he gripes, shoving me off.
I just laugh. It’s so easy and fun to get under his skin.
After a quick shower and changing into fresh clothes in the locker room, I take a car back to the hotel to meet Whimsy for dinner.
I’m not expecting to run into Trager in the lobby of the hotel. Normally, I’m able to avoid him pretty well. I guess I usually have luck on my side, but not this time.
“Well, well, well.” He smirks, looking me up and down. “What a shame to be out so early in Wimbledon, but I guess the better player won.” He puts a hand to his chest.
I stifle the urge to roll my eyes. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing his words have gotten to me.
“You were out in your very next match, so I’m not sure why you’re bragging.”
That gets to him and his face knits with anger. It’s gone quickly, though, replaced by his mask of superiority.
“I saw that sweet little girlfriend of yours.” He nods toward the hotel’s restaurant I’m supposed to meet her at. “Fuck, doesn’t she have a tight ass. Firm and bouncy. Just like her tits. Think I can take her for a spin when you’re done with her? I bet she looks pretty on her knees, doesn’t she?” He smirks and pats my shoulders like we’re good friends just talking about hookups. “I can just imagine the noises she’ll make for me once she’s bored of you. I bet she’ll beg me real good for it.” He grabs at his dick. “Be sure to pass her over once you’re done.”
Fury rams through me, so hot and vicious that I can’t stop it.
My fist slams into his face, the satisfying crunch of his nose reaching my ears.
I’m aware that I’ve probably just made a colossal mistake, but I can’t bring myself to care.
“Elias!” I hear Whimsy’s gasp.
“Don’t you ever”—I point at the fucker in front of me who holds his bleeding nose— “talk about her—or any woman for that matter—like that ever again. Do you hear me, you worthless piece of shit?”
He gives a garbled response and then hands are tugging on me, pulling me away.
“What was that, dude?” Noah yanks me from the bleeding Trager. He must’ve arrived here right after me.
“You should’ve heard what he said about Whimsy,” I snap defensively. “He’s disgusting. I’m not sorry for punching him.”
“Shh,” Noah hushes me, and I realize belatedly that some members of the press are seated at the bar and witnessing this whole thing. Phones are out too from a variety of people nearby.
“Fuck,” I mutter.
This is bad, really bad, but I wouldn’t take it back for anything. Trager deserved it for talking about Whimsy like that. I’m sick and tired of him running his mouth all the time. He needs to be put in his place.
Unfortunately for me, this isn’t a good look—especially when the whole reason Jackson insisted on this whole fake girlfriend thing in the first place was to make me lookbetternot worse.
But I’ll never be sorry for sticking up for Whimsy or any other woman.
“What was that about?” Whimsy asks, appearing in front of me. Her hands flutter about my body like she’s searching to see if I have any injuries.
“He was talking shit.” I sound defensive, possibly too defensive. “About you,” I add. “I won’t let anyone run their mouth about you or any other woman like that. It’s not okay.”
“Elias.” My name is a careful exhale and her eyes go soft. “Baby.” She touches my cheek, her fingers cool and gentle against my skin. “You don’t need to defend me.”
