Page 52 of Drop Shot (On the Court #2)

WHIMSY

My fingers won’t cooperate this morning.

It’s been a long time since I’ve let my anxiety get bad enough to trigger my lupus, but knowing that Elias is in trouble with tennis officials because of me, has done it.

I know it’s not my fault—I didn’t force Trager to say whatever he did—but I can’t help feeling some sort of guilt.

Elias slept like a baby last night, though. After making love to me—there’s no other way to put it. We might not have said the words yet, but I felt it in every stroke of his hand along my skin, in the way we held me so tenderly, in the whispered words as he rocked in and out of me.

“Fuck,” I curse, throwing my eyeliner down.

My fingers tremble as I reach for my makeup remover wipe.

“Hey.” Elias pokes his head into the bathroom. “What’s wrong?”

I dam my tears back. We’re headed to the press conference soon, so he doesn’t need to deal with my meltdown on top of it.

Especially when video is going around of the incident and some people are reporting that the punch was unprompted—as if.

It’s clear from the video that Trager is running his mouth.

Even I want to punch his arrogant smirk off his face and I didn’t even hear what he said about me.

And I guess that’s the thing, unfortunately none of the video includes what he said prior.

The few videos of the event all started recording just before the punch.

“Nothing.”

“Babe.” He leans against the doorway. “I know when something’s wrong. Now, be a good girl and tell me.”

I pick up the eyeliner wand and hold it out. “My fingers are shaking too bad.”

He takes the pen from my trembling fingers. “Sit down.”

“Huh?” The sounds rolls out of me with a questioning lilt.

“Sit down,” he commands again. “I’ll do it for you.”

A laugh rips out of me. “Elias, you can’t do my eyeliner. You’ve never done it before.”

“Yes, I have.”

I gape at him in shock. “When? On who?”

“On myself.” He shrugs, holding the eyeliner tube up to his top lip like it’s a mustache. “You love to do your makeup, and you said you have trouble with your eyeliner sometimes, so I learned how to do that wing thing you like so when you’re struggling, I can do it for you.”

There’s no stopping them then—the tears burst out of me. I’m grateful that I haven’t done any of my face makeup yet and I’ve only been focused on my eyes, so there’s not really anything for me to mess up with my tears.

“That’s … you seriously learned how to do wing eyeliner … for me?”

“I did,” he says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “It’s important to you.”

It’s the sweetest, most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me.

I can’t stop them then—those words that have been on the tip of my tongue all the time lately. I might’ve wanted him to say them first, but he deserves them right now.

“I love you.”

The way Elias lights up makes me glad that I’ve waited until now to tell him.

“God, Whimsy. That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard you say.” He pulls me in by my chin. “I love you, too.”

He lowers his mouth to mine while my brain and my heart are rejoicing in the fact that this man loves me back.

“Now”—he grins at me as his fingers fall from my chin— “sit that pretty ass down here on the floor and let me put my skills to the test.”

I do as I’m told and Elias settles in front of me. I can tell he’s nervous from the way he keeps licking at his bottom lip, as he holds my head steady and carefully hovers the eyeliner pen above my lid.

“I’ve never actually done this on another person, so I’m sorry in advance if I fuck up. I didn’t want to ask Ebba to let me practice on her. She would’ve asked me too many questions.”

“I’m sure you’ll do great. How long have you been practicing?” Hopefully if I ask him questions it’ll calm his nerves.

“Ever since you told me about it.”

If I wasn’t already frozen, I certainly would be now. That is well before anything serious was happening between us. That means … he liked me even then.

“I watched a bunch of tutorials at first and then I had to figure out which eyeliner it is you like so I could buy it and practice with it. You’re around a lot so sometimes it was hard to practice, but I feel decent with my skills at this point.

This shit isn’t easy, though. I have a newfound respect for you girls and makeup. ”

“I love you,” I say it again because I want to, because I mean it, because I’m certain there’s no man who will ever measure up to Elias.

I might’ve always harbored a crush on him, but that’s all it was, a crush I was never going to act on.

Even with this fake dating scheme Jackson came up with, it’s never once crossed my mind to use it to my advantage to get him to fall in love with me.

It just happened for both of us, because it’s just right when we’re together.

“I love you, too, baby. So much.” He kisses both of my cheeks and sits back to assess his handiwork. “I think it’s okay, but you check. I can redo it.”

I scurry up from my position on the floor and gape at my reflection in the mirror. “Elias.” His name is a shrill exhale. “This is amazing. You did this better than I do.”

He rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to blow smoke up my ass.”

“You know I would never,” I scoff. “This is perfect, though. You…” Crap, I can’t cry again.

I don’t want to ruin his perfect eyeliner job.

“This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me. I … this means more to me than you’ll ever know.

But also, I’m sorry, because I’ll be expecting you to do my eyeliner from now on. ”

He chuckles, recapping the tube. “Is there any spot I need to touch up.”

“No.” I shake my head. “You did great.” I stand on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek. “We better finish getting ready.”

He sighs, shoulders drooping. It’s the first sign he’s shown that this situation is getting to him. “Yeah, we better.”

I wish I could make this all go away for him. Tennis is all about conduct, though, and punching another player in what seems like an unprovoked attack could very well get him banned. Things like this are taken seriously—sometimes too seriously.

I reach for his hand before he slips from the bathroom and give it a gentle squeeze. “It’s going to be okay.”

It has to be.

He leans in and presses a quick kiss to my lips. “I know.”

The conference room is packed when Jackson opens the door for Elias to head to the table to speak. I stay near the door in case I need to make a quick exit per Elias and Jackson’s instructions. Trager, thank God, is nowhere to be seen.

Elias settles in the chair, the picture of ease. He’s somehow managed to stuff his nerves away. He appears unrattled, but not arrogant.

“Shall we begin?” he asks, speaking into the mic. A hush falls over the room at the sound of his voice.

The slight tick at the corner of his mouth is the only thing that clues me into the fact that he is nervous.

He sits up straight and stares out at the room of press. I’m sure there might be officials there too.

“I’m sure you all know why I called for this press conference. If you think I’m here to make excuses for my actions, I’m not. What might surprise you the most is I’m not sorry at all for punching my fellow player.”

Murmurings go up around the room, and beside me, Jackson pinches the bridge of his nose and mutters, “Why wouldn’t he let me write up a statement?”

“Vile things were spoken about the woman I love.” He looks my way with a soft smile which has some of the press looking my way too.

“But even if what he said hadn’t been about her, I still would’ve fought back.

Speaking about women in the terms he did is disgusting and unnecessary.

I won’t sit by idly and let someone spew that kind of vitriol.

You can choose to believe me or not, but I know what’s right and that’s what matters most to me.

I love this sport, and I have the utmost respect for my fellow players, my team, and the officials.

I think anyone who truly knows me is aware of that.

This wasn’t an act of jealousy or however else you may want to frame it.

This is all I’m going to say on the matter and I’m prepared to deal with whatever punishment is deemed necessary. Thank you and that is all.”

He stands from the table, ignoring the calls for further comments and to answer questions. He takes my hand and leads me through the door we entered from.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

Jackson trails behind us. “Wait.” His steps slow but ours don’t. “Are you two together for real?”

We stop then, turning around to look at him. Elias looks down at our entwined hands and then at his manager. “Yeah. We are.”

Jackson shakes his head and mutters, “Should’ve known.”

“If it wasn’t for you”—Elias says with a soft smile turned his manager’s way— “I might never have gotten my head out of my ass, and realized what was right in front of me the whole time.” He presses a kiss to my cheek to drive home his point.

Jackson sighs and his steps resume. “I want to be mad, but I’m not. I’ve noticed you’ve been chipper than usual, so it all makes sense now.”

“Chipper,” Elias laughs at the terminology. “You could just say happy.”

“Don’t make me regret being okay with this,” Jackson grumbles. “I need to go chat with some people and see what’s coming for you. This could be bad, I think you should know that.”

Elias pauses and nods. “I know. But I don’t regret it.”

“Trager’s an asshole, but he’s slimy. He might come out of this unscathed.”

“I know,” Elias says again. “Whatever happens, I’m prepared for it.”

It hits me then—that Elias thinks he could be banned permanently. Tennis is a sport that doesn’t take kindly to misconduct. It’s not out of the realm of possibility that he could be banned.