Page 1 of Game On
CHAPTER ONE
Ella
I soar through the air, core tight and engaged, my body a blur against the backdrop of Oxford blues and whites. The crowd below me roars, their voices blending together in a loud echo of cheers. They’re faceless to me, just a sea of people in an all-too-familiar room.
For a fleeting moment, while I’m high above them all, it’s as though I’m truly flying. My heart pounds in my chest, the thrill of the performance pulsing through me.
I reach the peak of the basket toss, and hit my mark perfectly, my limbs extended, my form flawless. A flash of genuine excitement crosses my face as I survey the room. This is where I come alive, performing on the mat, thriving on the trust, the unity between me and my teammates.
With practiced precision, we disassemble, and I’m gently lowered down, not a single hair out of place. Sweat drips from my brow down the side of my jaw, the tight grips and mounds of hairspray tingling at the base of my neck. The sound of our success is earsplitting, drowning out any lingering thoughts or distractions.
All that matters is the knowledge that we’ve given this routine our all. We’ve conquered our final competition of the season, and this is the happiest moment of my life.
As we take our last bow, joy bubbles up inside of me. It spills out in the form of an uncontrollable smile, radiating from my lips to my fingertips. This is it—the pinnacle of my time with this team.
Soon, it will all come to an end.
In just a couple of short weeks, I’ll be leaving behind everything I’ve ever known—my team, Oxford, my legacy—and heading off to Whitland University in Nashville. There’s a full year of studying abroad laid out before me, summer term through to the following spring, followed by months of travel with my boyfriend. It’s a dream come true, a chance to make my mark on an international stage. Yet at the same time, it’s daunting beyond measure.
“Pack it in, Davies. You’re going to give us all a complex,” my friend Molly says, nudging me as we head backstage. Her smile is genuine, but there’s an edge of friendly sarcasm to her tone.
“Oh, come off it,” I say. “If we can’t celebrate now, when can we? We just smashed that.”
She chuckles, her slender arm finding its way around my shoulders as we make our way to the lockers. “That’s an understatement. Good last comp for you, huh?”
I grin over at her, even as the bittersweet reality of my departure looms. “Don’t remind me … I’m going to miss this so much.”
She gives me a little squeeze, her voice lowering a bit. “It’s only a year. And it’sWhitland. That’s a big deal.”
“I know, it’s just a lot. New country, new team …”
“New men to obsess over.”
“I still have Jamie, remember?”
“Right … Jamie,” she mutters. “You’re sure he needs to tag along?”
“He’s nottagging along. Despite the fact that he also wants to travel, Whitland has an incredible finance department, and Jamie—”
“Right, right,” she cuts in with a snort. “Mr. Moneybags is going to learn how to make even more money. How could I forget?”
“Seriously, what is your issue with him?”
“Just don’t think he’s good enough for you, babe.”
“We’ve been together for so long. Five years now. I know him like the back of my hand.” I yank a few grips out of my hair, tossing them into my jacket pocket. “Jamie’s it for me. Always has been, always will be.”
“If you say so.”
“Drop it, Moll. I don’t want our last few weeks together to be spent rowing.”
“You’re right, as per. Sorry, Ella.” She pats me on the arm. “But don’t act like we’ll never talk again. FaceTime still works from the other side of the pond, yeah?”
I laugh, a genuine moment of relief in the midst of the chaos. The changing room is a mess, with gear scattered everywhere, teammates chatting loudly, and the smell of damp sweat hanging in the air. “Yeah, well, you’re sixhours ahead. So, if I call at some ungodly time, you’d better pick up.”
“Will you send over some Barbecue Lays and a pack of Lifesavers?”
“Yes.”
