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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Wimbledon

I shoved all thought of Joel from my mind as I warmed up for my round two match against Gordana Slavonisovich.

I really hoped that today wouldn’t be the day that she would finally beat me.

I didn’t think it would. Physically I was in my best shape ever, thanks to Joel and his positive reinforcement and the diet and training schedule he had me on.

Whoops, I wasn’t supposed to be thinking about Joel, was I?

But it was impossible not to – he was always there . He was playing a very important role in my life. I had to acknowledge that.

He’d been a little weird after the night of the concert – it seemed that every time he knew he got too close to breaking down that final little barrier that I held between us, he backed off.

It only confused me more. Was what I felt something real?

Was he just playing with me? I didn’t want to find out.

I desperately wanted to find out.

I shook my head to clear the thoughts; they had nothing to do with this game against Gordana. I had to concentrate on my sport.

Joel handed me my racquet as I finished re-lacing one of my shoes.

He watched me closely. “Something’s different about you today, Stink.

Normally you’re a little agitated just before a game, but today you seem very quiet and focussed.

Not that it’s a bad thing, by any means. It’s just interesting. ”

I shrugged, not meeting his eyes. “I don’t know, Joel.

I guess I’ve just realised that it’s not worth it to worry,” I lied.

Joel grinned at me, and I could feel the tension bubbling to the surface at the sight of his smile.

I ruthlessly stifled all of those feelings and walked out onto the court – cool, calm and collected.

I won in straight sets: six one, six two. I shook Gordana’s hand and she shook her head. We all have a hoodoo player – a player that we always lose to, no matter what, so I guessed that I might just happen to be Gordana’s.

Now I had another day off before round three. Another day of trying to keep my distance from Joel – a task that was rapidly becoming next to impossible.

“You want to go out and do something tonight?” Joel asked me once we were back in the apartment.

I dumped my bags inside the door and went straight to the lounge, flicking on the TV and finding the most mindless thing on: some reality show about a bunch of girls vying for the affections of an obscure European Prince.

I shook my head vaguely, not taking my eyes off the TV. Not wanting to look at him.

“But you go out if you want, Joel. Don’t feel like you need to entertain me.”

Joel plonked himself on the lounge beside me, close enough that his shoulder touched mine. I stiffened, shifting to put some space between us.

“Do I smell bad?” he asked, turning the full force of his baby blues on me. I pursed my lips, shaking my head again.

“Relax then. I won’t bite.” He patted the space I’d just vacated at his side. If I didn’t move back, he’d only shuffle over towards me, so I complied. My arm tingled with heat where his skin met mine, and I felt far too warm and achy in places that weren’t supposed to be reacting to Joel.

I focussed entirely on the TV then, on two contestants who were having a slanging match about who the Prince kissed first.

Joel snorted. “I can’t understand why anyone wants to go on these shows,” he said with a shake of his head. I turned to look at him out of the corner of my eye. “I mean,” he continued, “do they actually think this Prince is going to fall in love with either of them?”

I shrugged. “People have fallen in love in stranger ways,” I muttered.

Joel turned towards me. “Were you in love with Grant?” he asked me suddenly. I wasn’t expecting the question. I bit my lip and tried to focus on his words and not his big, warm body pressed against my side.

“I thought I was back then,” I replied thoughtfully.

“But, looking at it now, I don’t think it was real love.

How does anyone know at that age whether they’re in love or not?

He made me feel special. So when everything went down with him and Susie …

I thought I was heartbroken. But now, I think what I was feeling was humiliation. ”

“So, not Grant. Have you ever been in love then?” he persisted. Again, I paused, all too aware of his arm on the back of the sofa behind my head.

I shrugged. “Who else have I had a chance to fall in love with?” I asked. “Why are you so interested anyway? Have you ever been in love?”

Joel eyed me cheekily. “I’ve been far too busy having great sex to fall in love.”

I grimaced. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had feelings for any of the women you’ve been with,” I grunted in disbelief.

Joel sobered up. “I didn’t say that. I’ve got a lot of affection and respect for most of the women I’ve slept with. But no, I haven’t been in love with any of them.”

“Not Princes of Lion Girl?” I asked slyly. Joel’s mouth tweaked up at one corner and he shook his head.

“What about Julie?” I forced myself to ask.

Joel sighed. “No, I’m not in love with Julie, Stink. We’re just friends.”

“Ah, the good old fuck-buddy,” I grouched. Joel shook with silent laughter.

“So, if you’ve never been in love with anyone you’ve slept with,” I said thoughtfully, “what about women you haven’t slept with – there has to be a few of us scattered around. ”

Joel loomed over me, his bulging arms caging me in. “Any time you want, Mel, I’ll change you over to the other list.”

I rolled my eyes, worried that if I opened my mouth, I would just tell him to go right ahead and have his way with me. Have every possible way with me. I took a couple of deep breaths until I was calm again.

“Sure, Joel, but beware, my kink is kissing and running.”

Joel chuckled but didn’t move away from me. His hand came down off the back of the sofa and touched my hair.

“Stink, if I kissed you, there is no way you would want to run.”

I really should be running now. I shoved roughly at his torso while I still had a shred of resolve left. He barely budged.

“Get off me you sleaze!” I whined. Joel laughed again and flopped back beside me. We sat in silence for a few moments – Joel apparently absorbed in the never-ending bitch fight on the prince show. Me sulking, wondering how much longer I was going to be able to hold off against him.

“I’ve been in love before,” Joel murmured out of the blue.

I turned and gaped at him. “Really?” I asked incredulously.

His eyes met mine. “Yep.”

“What happened?” I asked quietly, leaning closer to him.

“She’s made it pretty clear what she thinks of me.”

“Who is it?” I gasped. “Are you still in love with her? What does it feel like?” I leaned against his side, our eyes locked into each other’s. His face was inscrutable.

“It feels like a constant ache, here.” He placed a hand over the centre of his chest. I found myself mirroring the movement. My heart thrummed against my palm.

Then Joel broke into a smile and slung an arm around me. “But it doesn’t matter, Mel. Who needs love anyway when I’ve got you around to annoy?”

I sighed, but I didn’t pull away. I let him hold me against him.

I should move away from him, put that all important distance between us.

But the stupid, reckless, infatuated part of my brain wouldn’t let me.

I remained under his arm on the lounge, pretending to watch TV when really I was imagining us naked, his lips …

his hands … his tongue … exploring me everywhere.

Jesus, Mel, get a grip! You can’t have that with Joel. Sex will ruin what you two have right now. You can’t do that. Ever.

Round three versus Katinka Norieva. I was cold and detached on court. There was no room for nerves – all the emotions roiling inside me when I was alone with Joel had sapped all the strength for any other feelings out of me.

This was a good thing, I decided, when I won the second set and consequently the match. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d won two back-to-back matches in straight sets.

Joel rubbed my back as I walked into the change room. “Congratulations, Stinky. Two days off now until your next match. Anything you want to do?”

You , I thought, then blushed. Joel looked at me curiously.

“I think I should train extra hard over the weekend. I want to keep up this straight sets winning streak if possible.” I kept my voice light, afraid that he’d hear something in my tone that would twig him to what was really going on inside my head.

Joel shrugged. “If that’s what you want, I’ll support you. I told you I had a good feeling about this one.”

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever, Joel. I get into finals all the time, but this is Wimbledon . I’m not going to win.”

He nudged me with his shoulder. “Not with that sort of attitude you won’t. Stink, I know you hate watching yourself play, but I think we’ll watch the footage of that game between now and your next match. You were incredible. I need you to realise that.”

I decided to humour him.

Round four versus Abigail Petersen. I went into it with a whole new outlook. No longer cold and distant .

I’d spent the previous night lying on the lounge while he sat on the floor, his head next to mine, providing me with a running commentary of my game against Norieva. And I had been able to forget that his lips were within kissing distance of mine. Now, I had something else to focus on.

I was going to win Wimbledon. Watching the game back had made me see something clearly for the first time – I was playing the best tennis of my life, and if I was ever going to win, it was going to be now.

We’d spent the hour after that going over Petersen’s game – her strengths, her weaknesses. We’d strategised. I’d never been more prepared going into a game.