Page 9 of A Follow-Through in Faking
“Pretty much.” He lets out a sigh, and I give him a comforting smile. No matter how much he loves his mamma, she’s a difficult woman, according to him. She complains a lot. He never does anything right. That sort of thing.
“And how’s it going with your new coach?” Matteo cocks a brow and smirks. “No, you didn’t.”
“Of course I did. He wasn’t a very good coach, but the rest of my team made me promise not to fire him. So, I didn’t. He quit. Said it was unprofessional to train someone he saw naked,” Matteo says and shrugs, and I let out a surprised laugh.
“You’re impossible.”
“No, I’m smart. I didn’t piss my team off since he just quit and they couldn’t blame me, and I didn’t have to put up with a coach who told me everything I was doing was wrong because it wasn’thisway. Plus, he was attractive. He was attracted to me. We hadsome fun before he went and found himself a different player to coach, one who wasn’t so stubborn,” he explains with a little evil laugh, and I shake my head at him.
“Okay, you’re right. You’re not impossible. You’re a genius.”
“Exactly.”
Then we’re both grinning at each other before we walk to the opposite sides of our court.
We spend the next half hour playing a ruthless sort of tennis. Neither one of us holds back. Neither one of us plays nicely at any point. We’re pushing each other to our limits, but somehow it doesn’t feel the same as when Cata does the same with me. When I play against her, it’s a constant battle of having to prove who’s better. And maybe it’s because I win most points against Matteo. Maybe it’s because I can try new things without risking losing the point and giving Cata the satisfaction. Maybe it’s because I don’t have to prove anything to look cooler and impress him.
I don’t fucking know.
But I have so much fun.
At least until we move to the net again to get our things, and I have to poach this very inevitable topic of what the fuck is going on in my life because he asks me how I’m doing.
“There’s something I should tell you.”
Matteo has been laughing at me for the past four minutes without a single break. Every time I think he’s done, he wheezes out words I don’t understand and keeps laughing. Tears jumpout of his eyes and he snorts but then covers his mouth with his hand to stop the same sound from leaving him again.
Under different circumstances, I’d join him. Matteo has the kind of laugh that’s irresistibly contagious.
But not when he’s laughing at me.
“My God, this is the best news I’ve ever heard in my entire life. Who can I pay for making this happen? They deserve some money for this wonderful turn of events,” Matteo says, throwing his head back to once more burst into laughter.
“We trained for three hours. You shouldn’t have the energy for all this laughing,” I say and wave at where he’s sitting on the other side of the sauna from me now.
The tennis club we’re members of,Lumière des Étoiles, has everything we could ever need. Tennis courts, gyms, several pools, saunas, and enormous showers in all the washrooms. It’s paradise here, one of my favorite places in the world.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t help it. Do you remember how the two of you always kept score in the past? You weren’t even playing each other, but every match, every game, every point you won was written down so you could keep track of who’d won the most,” he says and bursts into laughter again.
“Yes, I remember,” I reply as I lean back on the wooden bench I’m on, breathing in the steam surrounding us. Sweat is dripping down my body, my towel soaking up as much as it can, where it is around my hips.
“Do you remember that one time when you two were playing doubles and she served the ball right into your ass? You started fighting, her claiming it was an accident and you insisting it wasn’t,” he laughs the words the whole time, barely speaking at all. I’m surprised I understand him at all.
“I remember,” I say through gritted teeth while he continues reveling in his amusement.
“Do you remember—” I cut him off.
“I remember everything. Every moment with her. Every interaction. Every word. I remember it all,” I blurt out, too annoyed to keep the words at bay. “You don’t have to remind me, and, for the love of God, could you cover your dick. I don’t want to keep looking at it,” I add when he shifts and his towel moves away from his groin.
With a swift laugh, Matteo removes the towel altogether and shifts on his bench until he’s lying down, one arm under his head.
A sigh leaves him.
“There, is that better?” he asks, pointing at his naked body on full display.
“You are intolerable.”
“Yes, I am, but you love me anyway,” he reminds me, flashing me one of his dashing smiles. “The people I’ve been with loved my penis, so maybe you just need to learn to appreciate the glorious sight of it.” He smirks, then turns his head and closes his eyes.
