Page 86 of Drop Shot
“I know,” I reply. Perhaps the worst kept secret ever. I think the only person close to them oblivious of their relationship is Noah. Elias has made comments here and there over the years about Fisher looking at Ebba—and he always says it in a joking manner like heknowsthey were together. The two of them definitely thought they were way more secretive than they actually were. Whatever they had going, ended before I started working for Elias, but even I caught on quickly to them having some sort of relationship. Ebba’s reaction the first time I asked confirmed it for me.
“And then…” She lets her arms drop and shakes her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
I grab her hand “We don’t have to talk about it. Let’s grab a bite to eat and head to the practice courts?”
She gives me a smile that doesn’t quite reach her dark eyes. “Sounds good.”
I press my lips together with worry as I watch Elias hit the ball back and forth with his hitting partner. Despite only a few days’ rest, his knee is obviously stiff and slowing him down. The frustration is written plainly on his face.
The eventhwack, thwack, thwackof the ball going back and forth doesn’t soothe me like it usually does. I hope between stretch, and massage, and whatever else his team chooses to do they can get him back to the top of his game. He was so fucking close in his last match. The fall was unfortunate. I know a win at Rolland Garros would be the kind of high to carry him into Wimbledon come the end of June.
“Take five,” his head coach’s calls out.
Elias jogs over and swipes a cold water from the cooler and some kind of snacks before jogging over to join Ebba and I where we sit watching.
“What are you two doing here?” He takes a long sip of his water. “I thought you were going for lunch and then picking up Keaton.”
The eyeroll from Ebba is so dramatic I swear I can hear her eyes rattling like marbles in her head. “He missed his flight.”
His eyebrows climb his forehead. “You’re serious?” He raises his shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow and I gawk like I’ve never seen a sweaty bare male chest before. “What an idiot,” he finishes with and lets his shirt drop back down. The self-satisfied smirk he sends my way tells me he wasn’t oblivious to my gawking.
“He says he’ll be here tomorrow.”
Elias looks my way, and we have a silent communication that both of us will be shocked if he shows up.
“I’ll be here late.” He takes another sip of water. “After we finish up here, they’re going to do some red-light therapy on my knee. Maybe you guys should go out tonight to a club or something?” He frowns at his own suggestion. “On second thought, no, I don’t need any French dudes checking out my girl and my sister.”
Ebba perks up beside me. “A club might be fun.”
I frown. I’m not the going out type. I like to be in my pajamas and in bed by ten o’clock at the latest.
“Do we have to?” I whine but the glow in Ebba’s eyes tells me we do, indeed, have to.
“Yes,” she squeals. “We’re going out tonight.”
“This is your fault,” I tell Elias.
He runs his fingers through his sweaty, curly hair. “I’m aware. If you’re going out, text me your location, and if you leave, text me again. I mean it,” he warns us with a finger swinging back and forth between the two of us.
“Mhm, sure. You got it.” Ebba’s already standing and pulling me along with her. “We need to get clothes.”
“Don’t you have clothes?” Elias calls as she’s dragging me toward the exit.
“Not for clubbing,” she calls back.
I send a look to my fake-boyfriend that’s a clear plea for help and he gives me a sheepish smile back.
But I guess if it’ll make Ebba happy, I’ll do it.
It can’t be so bad, right?
CHAPTER 28
WHIMSY
The music is too loud,and I don’t understand the lyrics, but Ebba’s bouncing around and dancing and having the time of her life, so I guess that’s what really matters.
Club attire in France is nothing like America.
