Page 20 of Drop Shot (On the Court #2)

Julia joins in. “Ooh, I’m sensing something juicy here.”

I cover my face with my hands, trying to hide myself as I say, “I thought he was hot.”

Elias’s hands tug at my own, carefully pulling them away from my face. He holds them captive in his big palms so I can’t hide.

Elias’s grin is so big that it threatens to engulf his entire face. “You thought I was hot?”

“Yes,” I mumble, looking down.

“I take it this is the first you’re hearing of this?” Julia prompts, voice dripping with curiosity.

“Yes.” His voice gets impossibly smugger.

“Don’t let it go to your head. You know you’re hot.”

“Sure,” he agrees. “But maybe I like hearing it from you.”

Julia makes a small gasping sound. “You two are so adorable.”

Her interruption reminds me of the fact that not only are we being audio recorded, but there’s a camera rolling too.

“What was your first impression of me?” I ask, trying to infuse my voice with a teasing edge. “Did you think I was hot?”

He cocks his head to the side, studying me. His brows lower, a serious glint in his gaze. “I thought you were beautiful, but most importantly I thought you were brilliant.”

My tummy dips.

Julia is visibly swooning.

The rest of the podcast wraps up over the next twenty minutes. I’m thankful to finally be done with it and not make any major mistake.

“Did I do okay?” I ask the moment we’re alone in the elevator. “I didn’t expect that to be so nerve wracking.”

Elias crosses one leg over the other and leans against the back wall. “You did great.”

He’s still grinning from ear to ear and I know it’s all because I said I thought he was hot from the first time I met him.

“Could you stop silently gloating over there?” I cross my arms over my chest, leveling him with a glare. “It’s unbecoming.”

“What?” He feigns innocence, slapping a hand over his heart. “All this time I thought you were immune to my dashing good looks, but come to find out you’ve thought I was hot from the get go.”

Rolling my eyes, I mutter, “And this is why I would’ve never told you. Your ego is already bad enough to deal with.”

Elias rides this high all the way back to his place, thoroughly embarrassing me further when we head for the kitchen and find Ebba sitting at the table working at her laptop.

“Ebba, did Whimsy ever tell you she thought I was hot when she first interviewed to be my assistant?”

“Elias,” I groan, hiding my face. Would it be too much if I crawled under the table to hide?

“Um.” Ebba looks up from her laptop, looking between the two of us with a skeptical look. “No.”

He plants his hands on his hips, grin impossible to quell. “Well, she thought it.”

“Please, stop,” I beg. I send a pleading look in Ebba’s direction.

“She might not have told me she thought you were hot, but she did mention thinking Noah was hot a few times.”

His jaw drops. “No.”

I shrug, stifling a laugh. “Guilty.”

“Not, Noah.” He pinches his brow. “Anyone but him.”

“Trager?” I suggest.

He narrows his eyes on me. “I should spank you for that.”

Ebba gags and slams her laptop closed. “Ew. No foreplay in front of me. I’m leaving.”

She scurries out of the kitchen like her ass has been lit on fire.

Elias, unbothered by his sister’s departure, turns to the fridge and pulls out a prepackaged meal. “Hungry?” he asks me.

“I just want a snack.”

He steps aside to let me forage. I fix myself a bowl of yogurt and cut up some fruit, laying it on top in a neat overlapping circle.

“Let’s eat outside,” he says, nodding for me to follow him through the French doors to the garden outside.

The gardener has done an impeccable job with the space. The flowers and greenery are stunning, creating a private oasis.

We settle at the wrought iron chair and table set tucked into an alcove.

It’s weird spending so much time with Elias.

When I worked for him, I was too busy keeping his life in order to do something as basic as sit down and eat a meal with him.

But I find that I enjoy his company. My stomach sinks with the knowledge that this has an end date and chances are after that I’ll never see him again.

My stomach sours further when I realize that I might lose my friendship with his sister when this is over, too. To her, this will be a real breakup.

“Hey,” he says softly, pulling me from my thoughts. “You look stressed. Is something wrong?”

Perhaps I should be bothered by how easily he reads me.

I stir my yogurt, stalling before I answer. “No.”

Those chocolate eyes narrow on me. “Don’t lie to me. We know each other better than that.”

I press my tongue to the inside of my cheek, popping it out. “It’s just … we’re playing this whole thing off like it’s real and when this inevitably ends, Ebba is going to feel forced to choose a side, and you’re her brother … so…”

“Hey.” His warm finger urges my chin up.

There’s not an ounce of judgment in his eyes at my worry.

“I’ll never let that happen, okay?” He waits for me to nod before letting his finger drift away.

“We’ll say we realized we just don’t work as a couple like we originally thought and there are no hard feelings.

If you want your old job back, you can have it, too. ”

“Won’t they think that’s weird?”

Elias takes a bite of his chicken and chews. Once he’s swallowed, he says, “Who cares what people think? And if you don’t want your old job back that’s cool too. I’ll give you the best fucking recommendation letter you could ask for.”

“You’d do that?” I ask. I’m not sure why I’m so surprised. Elias can be a bit of a hot head on the court, and a braggart to the media, but in his day-to-day life he’s kind and caring.

“You know I would.”

I dip my head in a nod and startle when his finger brushes my cheek, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.

“I’m not trying to be nosy, but how are you feeling? Is your flare?—”

“It’s all better now.” I force a smile. It’s weird having him know about the lupus, but also nice in a way to have another person who is aware of it.

“But it’ll come back?” he asks, piercing a piece of broccoli with his fork.

“Unfortunately,” I sigh.

“I’m really sorry”—he says, holding my gaze— “that you have to deal with that.”

There’s something sincere in the way he says it, not like he’s apologizing just because he thinks it’s the right thing to say, but because he genuinely means it. It hits me in a place in my heart I didn’t know existed.

“Thanks.” I hope my voice doesn’t betray the emotion clogging my throat.

“If you ever need someone to talk to about it, to complain, cry—whatever it might be—I’m your guy.”

I swallow down my emotions. Even though it’s been several years since my diagnosis sometimes it hits me like a truck all over again.

That I’m sick despite always doing the “right things” like eating healthy and exercising.

When it comes to chronic illness, it doesn’t discriminate, it just fucking happens.

“I do get angry sometimes,” I confess, something I haven’t voiced to anyone.

I know my parents would never judge me for being angry over my diagnosis, but I’ve always gone out of my way to not be a burden on them. The last thing I’d want to do is confess how hard it is on me sometimes.

The worst part is, a lot of the time I’m not even angry about how things are now, I’m angry about the uncertainty of my future.

The fear that lupus could permanently injure my kidneys and I’d need a transplant, the fear that I might never be able to get pregnant, the fear of heart disease.

It’s consuming at times, being terrified of all the what ifs .

“I’d get angry too,” Elias says softly. “I think that’s probably pretty normal.”

“You think so?” I ask, letting a little of my insecurity to slip through. Sometimes I feel like I’m in the wrong for my feelings, that I should be grateful to have a diagnosis and medication that makes things easier.

“Definitely, Whim.” He reaches over and squeezes my shoulder in reassurance. “You’re strong. Having moments of anger doesn’t make you weak. It only makes you human.”

I didn’t realize how badly I needed to hear that.