Page 140 of Drop Shot
He leans in and presses a quick kiss to my lips. “I know.”
The conference room is packed when Jackson opens the door for Elias to head to the table to speak. I stay near the door in case I need to make a quick exit per Elias and Jackson’s instructions. Trager, thank God, is nowhere to be seen.
Elias settles in the chair, the picture of ease. He’s somehow managed to stuff his nerves away. He appears unrattled, but not arrogant.
“Shall we begin?” he asks, speaking into the mic. A hush falls over the room at the sound of his voice.
The slight tick at the corner of his mouth is the only thing that clues me into the fact that he is nervous.
He sits up straight and stares out at the room of press. I’m sure there might be officials there too.
“I’m sure you all know why I called for this press conference. If you think I’m here to make excuses for my actions, I’m not. What might surprise you the most is I’m not sorry at all for punching my fellow player.”
Murmurings go up around the room, and beside me, Jackson pinches the bridge of his nose and mutters, “Why wouldn’t he let me write up a statement?”
“Vile things were spoken about the woman I love.” He looks my way with a soft smile which has some of the press looking my way too. “But even if what he said hadn’t been about her, I still would’ve fought back. Speaking about women in the terms he did is disgusting and unnecessary. I won’t sit by idly and let someone spew that kind of vitriol. You can choose to believe me or not, but I know what’s right and that’s what matters most to me. I love this sport, and I have the utmost respect for my fellow players, my team, and the officials. I think anyone who truly knows me is aware of that. This wasn’t an act of jealousy or however else you may want to frame it. This is all I’m going to say on the matter and I’m prepared to deal with whatever punishment is deemed necessary. Thank you and that is all.”
He stands from the table, ignoring the calls for further comments and to answer questions. He takes my hand and leads me through the door we entered from.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
Jackson trails behind us. “Wait.” His steps slow but ours don’t. “Are you two together for real?”
We stop then, turning around to look at him. Elias looks down at our entwined hands and then at his manager. “Yeah. We are.”
Jackson shakes his head and mutters, “Should’ve known.”
“If it wasn’t for you”—Elias says with a soft smile turned his manager’s way— “I might never have gotten my head out of my ass, and realized what was right in front of me the whole time.” He presses a kiss to my cheek to drive home his point.
Jackson sighs and his steps resume. “I want to be mad, but I’m not. I’ve noticed you’ve been chipper than usual, so it all makes sense now.”
“Chipper,” Elias laughs at the terminology. “You could just say happy.”
“Don’t make me regret being okay with this,” Jackson grumbles. “I need to go chat with some people and see what’s coming for you. This could be bad, I think you should know that.”
Elias pauses and nods. “I know. But I don’t regret it.”
“Trager’s an asshole, but he’s slimy. He might come out of this unscathed.”
“I know,” Elias says again. “Whatever happens, I’m prepared for it.”
It hits me then—that Elias thinks he could be banned permanently. Tennis is a sport that doesn’t take kindly to misconduct. It’s not out of the realm of possibility that he could be banned.
“I’ll let you know when I know something. It might be days,” he warns. “I’m not sure how quickly they’ll come to a decision. You’re welcome to hang out here for a while. I’m sure the media will be trying to nab you on your way out so it might be better to wait.”
Elias nods in understanding. “We’ll stick around for a bit.”
Jackson waves and heads off while Elias and I head toward one of the more private rooms in the venue space. It’s a shared space, but no media is allowed—only players and their teams.
“Are we ever going to let our families know this started out fake?” I ask, curious since we haven’t spoken on that fact.
He snorts. “Not a chance. My mom would smack me upside the head and your dad would hate me forever. Besides, does it really matter if they know the truth of our origins? We still got to this spot in the end.”
“No, I’d rather not tell them.”
I don’t want my family to ever think less of Elias because of this arrangement.
“Good.” He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “But Noah does know it was fake and now it’s real.”
