Page 20 of Game Point (Game, Set, and Match #2)

Oliver

Sober II (Melodrama) – Lorde

I paced back and forth in the training room, waiting for Dylan. She should’ve been here by now. Should’ve been here hours ago. Brooke kept storming around, yelling at attendants, demanding for Dylan to be sent to her as soon as she arrived. It was chaos.

Another glance at the clock told me time was very quickly running out. I dialled Dylan’s number. I expected a few rings, as it had been doing all morning, but this time the dial tone cut off, the phone going straight to voicemail.

Had she turned her phone off? Had she done a runner on the day of the final? I’d known she would be nervous, but not showing up at all? That wasn’t like her at all.

Just as I put my device away, the doors opened.

Dylan walked in furiously, and my heart stopped hard in my chest at the sight of her.

Her usually perfect hair was messily pulled out of a ponytail, strands falling in front of her face.

Her clothes were rumpled, covered in dirt and dust. She looked like shit.

I ran up to her, my hand pulling at her arm. ‘Where were you? Are you okay?’

She didn’t even look at me as she continued ahead, heading straight towards her dressing room. Dylan gritted her teeth as she spoke, ‘I’m fine.’

I looked her up and down. I’d seen Dylan enough to know that this wasn’t her usual state. ‘What happened to you?’

She shook me off, charging into the locker room, but I followed.

‘Dylan …’ I said, watching her as she swung her bag onto the bench, pulling it open to search through it. Clearly something had happened to her.

‘I need to change,’ she ground out.

My hands landed on her shoulders, her gaze shooting up to meet mine. ‘Sit down,’ I said. ‘Can you tell me what happened?’

‘Nothing, I’m fine,’ she replied. ‘I slept in.’

‘Bullshit,’ I swore. ‘What else?’

‘The car.’ She hesitated, her jaw locked as her eyes searched the room. Clearly desperate to give me any excuse but the truth. ‘There was a crash.’

‘Holy shit. You were in a crash?’

‘It was minor.’ She all but waved off my concerns. ‘I was wearing my seatbelt. I didn’t hit my head.’

‘You have a cut on your face.’ I ran my fingers through my hair, the panic debilitating. ‘Have you been to the hospital? You need to get checked out,’ I asked, looking her up and down again.

‘I’m fine,’ Dylan said. ‘There were paramedics. They did a basic check before they let me go. This is more important.’

I lost all control of my body, my arm stretching forward, my hand finding her forearm to hold it softly, stopping her from continuing to ignore me.

‘Dylan. This is serious.’ I pushed my head forward, and despite my panic, tried to keep my voice smooth and calm. ‘You could have internal bleeding; there could be something broken.’

‘I’m fine,’ she repeated. I was getting very sick of hearing those two words over and over. She pressed her lips together. ‘I walked two blocks to get here.’

‘You walked?’

‘I’m fine. I feel fine. I wasn’t hurt,’ she tried to convince me. But as she took a deep breath, I saw the wince, saw the flash of dull pain in her eyes.

‘They can postpone for an hour. Give you time to get seen.’

‘Oliver.’ She ripped her arm from my light touch, and immediately I knew I’d lost any control I thought I had on the situation, any sway I had with her. ‘I swear to God. I’m going out there and you cannot stop me. I need to do this.’

My heart fell into my stomach. ‘Dylan, you can’t be serious.’

This was dumb. Beyond stupidity. She could get herself more hurt. Seriously, dangerously injured. There was no way she could do this.

‘I’m deadly fucking serious.’ She pulled out her racket, inspecting the grip, her fingers running across the strings. She didn’t look at me as she continued. ‘I said I’m okay, so I’m okay. I said I can play, so let’s fucking play.’

I inhaled through my nose, a deep breath to calm the frustration that had been lighting my body up like wildfire. Being as soft as I could, I reached out a hand to where hers gripped the racket. Her grip tightened under mine and I could feel her shaking.

‘This isn’t worth it, Dylan.’ My body grew closer to hers, as if I was hoping that a closer proximity to her orbit, an orbit I’d been avoiding getting trapped in, would help to convince her, calm her, help her think clearly through the adrenaline that was guiding her decisions.

Then, I took a leap. ‘It’s a piece of silverware.

It’s nothing. Not compared to what you are risking. ’

But how do you convince someone to look after themselves when all they’ve been taught is to put their soul, mind and body on the line for the simple thrill of the win? How do I tell her she’s worth more than this?

‘A piece of silverware?’ she whispered, her voice razor sharp, eyes cold. ‘And you’ve been asking me if I’m being serious?’

My heart stopped in my chest. I’d always known Dylan had a ruthless side, it was obvious watching her play. But to actually stare her down, to see it facing you, was completely different. And that was the Dylan that had appeared in front of me.

‘Where the hell have you been?’ Brooke yelled angrily. Instantly, her hand ripped from mine, her attention torn away before I could respond to her.

‘I slept in,’ she answered, ‘I’m fine.’

Those two words again. I knew they’d haunt my nightmares after today.

Brooke’s eyes only narrowed, assessing her player. ‘Did you cut your face? Did you fall out of bed? You’re a complete mess!’

‘I’ll change,’ Dylan replied dryly.

Brooke continued, ‘What happened to you? This is beyond unprofessional.’

I cut Dylan off before she had a chance to respond. Before she could hide how serious this could be. ‘She was in a crash.’

‘A crash?’ Brooke’s gaze shifted between us. ‘Like a car crash?’

Dylan looked at me, that simmering rage reappearing. I realized any chance of her listening to me was long gone. Her attention turned back to Brooke. ‘I walked here. I can play.’

‘You’re sure?’ Brooke asked.

I interrupted again, growing impossibly desperate. ‘She needs to go to the emergency room.’

Dylan didn’t even look at me. ‘I need to warm up.’

Brooke looked between us. I could see her calculating the situation, analysing. I prayed that Brooke would side with me, that she would see how unsafe this was.

But then she shrugged. ‘If you think you can play, then fine by me. Get changed, then we can warm up.’

Without looking at me again, she left the changing room. Turning, I found Dylan unpacking her bag.

‘Don’t do this, Dylan.’ I was beyond sense, willing to get down on my knees begging her to let me help her instead. ‘I know you’re determined. Don’t think of this one final, please, think of your career. If you go out now, you could hurt yourself.’

She pulled some clothes out of her bag, my hand reaching to grasp her, maybe my final shot at getting her attention. She pulled away at my touch, wincing as she breathed deeply. I tracked the motion, the panic renewing.

‘If you are hurt, and you’re trying to hide it, you could be sabotaging your match. Maybe Brooke doesn’t care enough to stop you. But I can see it in your eyes, you are in pain, and you can’t admit it.’

‘Leave me alone, Oliver.’ She looked over at me, a stony seriousness giving nothing away. ‘I need to change.’

And in my desperation, I took my final shot.

‘If you go out now …’ There was no taking back my words once I said them. Knowing how much more they would hurt her. How much I was hurting her. ‘If you go out now, like this, you will lose.’

There was a flash of hurt in her eyes, a physical wince at my words as if I’d injured her all over again.

I immediately regretted my words. I’d always believed in her. I backed her one hundred per cent. But I couldn’t support her if it meant letting her hurt herself like this.

‘Please, Oliver,’ she whispered my goddamn name, throwing me into a tailspin, making me feel like I’d been the one in the car crash. She murmured again, like she couldn’t bear to say the words any louder. ‘Just leave.’

I summoned the rest of my strength for one final ultimatum.

‘If I leave now, this friendship is over.’ I hated this.

Wanted to scream. Wanted to punch my fist into a wall if only to feel something other than this weight of dread or the thought of never talking to her again.

‘I can’t watch you do this to yourself.’

Her words were a bitter pill I forced myself to swallow. ‘Then don’t watch.’

I took a good look at her, noting how she looked half the size of the Dylan Bailey I had known.

With one last look, it dawned on me Dylan meant entirely too much to me, that this friendship had grown too big for the thing it was supposed to be. I could not watch somebody who meant this much to me keep hurting themselves. Not when it hurt me right back.

I left. Needing this pain in my chest to stop aching, to stop the heart she had healed from feeling like it was breaking all over again.