Page 56 of Game Point (Game, Set, and Match #2)

Oliver

I Love You, I’m Sorry – Gracie Abrams

I focused on the cold tiles below my bare legs as I laid out on the bathroom floor, trying to take a moment to remember how to box breathe.

I’d been having panic attacks since Dylan’s third-round match.

There was a moment, during the second set where she slid on court.

Normally, I’d have clocked it as regular, but my mind replayed the moment she’d done the same during the doubles match that caused the sprain, even her opening match when she fell and pretended she hadn’t limped off court.

Sometimes I was sure I saw her hesitating, her pace slower.

Every moment had my heart clenching painfully in my chest, anxiety gripping tighter and tighter.

I’d tried to sit through the rest of the match, ignoring the overwhelming feeling, the ringing in my ears.

But when she reached set point, I couldn’t take it anymore, remembering how easily matches like this could fall apart under the brutal intensity.

I’d left, leaving her parents with some flimsy excuse and locking myself in a private bathroom. I nearly passed out. I knew the feeling had been growing since her injury, the competition had dialled it up until the niggling in the back of my head turned into a full-blown migraine.

I exhaled softly, the tight band around my chest eased. As I inhaled a controlled breath, the rush of oxygen flooded my mind, causing momentary dizziness. The bathroom tilted on its axis, and instead, I moved, my hands finding the smooth tiles using the chill from the AC to ground myself.

There was a knock on the heavy bathroom door, her voice calling out like a siren to a sailor. ‘Oliver? Are you here?’

I swallowed, realizing that her match must be long over. ‘Yeah. Just a moment,’ I managed, fighting to keep my tone level. I made out her shadow from under the door, watching as she hesitated a moment, before turning, heading back into the locker room.

I tried to pull myself together. I wasn’t a stranger to panic attacks, I’d had them before.

It was partially why I used to play the way I did, picking and choosing the tournaments I took part in, taking weeks or months when necessary.

Balance was key, I couldn’t keep up with playing in every tournament, but when I was more selective, I was a much more competitive player.

But I hadn’t thought that it would be this way being a coach. I’d thought I’d be insulated from the pressure and stress, but knowing how close she could be, all the while watching her ankle for that injury, I’d overestimated myself.

Every moment of her match I spent obsessively examining each movement, each piece of footwork and glide of her racket, waiting for something to go wrong. And for it to be my fault.

If it all went wrong for her, would I lose her?

Inhaling sharply, I pushed myself up from the floor, stepping forward to lean on the counter. Staring at myself in the mirror, I could make out the sweat on my brow, the redness to my eyes caused by another sleepless night terrified of failing her.

I quickly splashed some water on my face, trying to look semi decent so she didn’t know why I’d had to lock myself away. I was only able to half convince myself that I was ready as I left the bathroom, greeted by a soft smile from Dylan.

One look at her, one smile, and the bathroom immediately felt a million miles away, any remaining grip of the anxiety soothed. She was everything.

‘Hey, what happened?’ she asked, sitting on the bench opposite the door, her eyes filled with concern. ‘You left during the match.’

I swallowed, ‘I’m really sorry,’ I apologized, feeling terrible for having left her, as if I’d abandoned her without a second thought. ‘I …’ The words dried up in my throat, as I realized that I hadn’t prepared an excuse for why I had disappeared, my apprehension hanging in the air between us.

‘Is it that curry from last night?’ she asked, one eyebrow crooked upward.

My hand went to my stomach, patting it as if to comfort myself. ‘Yeah, my stomach is not great.’ I felt bad lying, but the idea of telling her the truth didn’t sit any easier with me.

‘I told you to pick something else.’

‘I should’ve listened,’ I admitted, my stomach twisting in knots, only not from food but from guilt.

‘It’s okay,’ she replied, ‘I enjoy being right.’

‘You enjoy me being ill?’

‘No. That’s terrible,’ Dylan shook her head. ‘But I did try to tell you. Are you still able to come for dinner?’ she asked, and I took a moment to assess my true feelings, the tight squeeze of anxiety beginning to ease.

‘Yeah, I should be fine,’ I nodded.

‘Good,’ she added, ‘I thought we could go out after. There are some places in the city I need to show you.’ I loved the idea of getting outside with her.

‘So …’ I trailed off, ‘You won right?’

‘Of course.’

‘Congrats!’ I grinned at her, my arm wrapping over her shoulder, pulling her body into mine as I rocked with excitement. ‘One more down.’ I was reminded, true happiness spilling out of me for her. I wanted this badly for her.

‘Two more to go,’ she retorted, sounding a little worried about them. Her hands moved, straightening out the linen shorts she was wearing.

I shrugged her concerns away. ‘You are playing so well. I’m proud of you.’ Dylan’s cheeks began to burn red, her shoulder pushing into me.

‘Aw, thanks coach,’ she said, unable to match my gaze as her body pressed against mine. ‘I couldn’t have done it without you.’

‘I know,’ I said, grabbing her attention. I grinned, ‘I’m an excellent coach.’

‘Cocky too.’

I winked, unable to stop myself, ‘Don’t you know it.’

‘You’re telling me …’ I trailed off, looking around at all the various food stalls, the vastly different sweet and savoury smells all mixing into something delicious and irresistible.

I looked across at Dylan who was busy sipping a flat white.

‘This was all here while we were dancing around the threat of food poisoning and cooking at home?’

She tsked, her hand going to the cap on her head, the sunglasses no doubt hiding her rolled eyes from me. Sunglasses and a hat. The perfect disguise. ‘Sure, but who wants to trek into the city every day for dinner?’

‘If it means not fearing for my life with every forkful,’ I said, my stomach groaning at the sight of the various offerings.

Dinner with her parents couldn’t have gone better, both her mum and dad enthusiastic about Dylan’s recent playing.

Even sitting with them while we watched the match had been fun.

The way they spoke about her game play, the hits she had made, even breaking down the analytics of the match, made me wonder what it had been like to grow up with them as a fledgling tennis player.

All they had was excitement and pride towards their youngest daughter.

Dylan laughed, taking a long sip of her coffee. ‘If you think street food is the answer to that then you might want to think again.’

‘Sure,’ I said, eyeing up a stall selling steamed mussels in a coconut chilli sauce. Why did I have two courses at dinner? ‘But at least it wouldn’t be our fault.’

‘You’ve got me there.’ Dylan smirked as she threw her cup in the trash and we continued through the crowds. We were sick of hiding out in the hotel, and had decided to explore the city around us a little more, wearing hats and sunglasses just to keep any unwanted attention from us.

As we walked, enjoying everything in the market, Dylan’s hand softly slipped into mine, our fingers interlacing like it was the most normal thing in the world. I couldn’t fight the grin that broke out at the contact, enjoying how casually intimate she was with me.

I still remembered the weeks I’d spent torturing myself on the other side of a wall. Desperate for every inch of her I could gain. Every reluctant smile I could earn from her. Now with the contact offered up casually, I felt like the luckiest man alive.

Dylan turned to me with a grin. ‘I’m going to get some doughnuts.

’ She nodded her head over to one of the stalls.

Without any hesitation, she dragged me along with her, the van seeming unusually quiet considering the crowds of people pushing their way around.

She was served, her hand slipping from mine so she could take a bite of the sugared and jam-filled doughnut.

The smell alone was enough to make my stomach rumble again, but the sight of Dylan, half a sugary treat hanging out of her mouth, her grin growing into a full-blown smile, had me searching for my phone.

‘Can I get a photo?’ I asked as we found a less crowded part of the market so she could eat as the sun set behind her, turning the city sky all shades of dusky tangerine.

Her eyebrows shot up, half of the doughnut hanging from her perfect mouth. ‘Oliver? Are you turning full tourist on me? Next you’ll want to visit the zoo.’

I mocked fake offence, a hand landing on my chest. ‘I’ve always wanted to visit the zoo.’

Dylan laughed, almost choking on another bite. ‘If you want to see some real Aussie wildlife we could visit North Queensland but you could barely handle the spiders here.’

I had to fight a smile at the mention of a trip. Did that mean she could see a future?

‘Don’t remind me of that monster. I still have nightmares.’

She waved her free hand at me. ‘Such a tourist,’ but I didn’t point out that she was the one in the market eating a doughnut, sugar and jam smeared on the corner of her mouth. I couldn’t help but run my tongue along my lip, craving a taste of her, mixed with the sweetness.

I lifted my phone again. ‘Can I please get a photo?’

‘Why?’

I shrugged, honestly admitting, ‘Because I don’t have many of you.’ All this time in Australia, and I barely had any photos of her. I had all of our texts from when we were apart, some selfies she had sent, and some videos of training. But I wanted one for the lock screen.

‘Aw, you are going soft on me,’ she said, removing her glasses. ‘Make it quick.’

I quickly took some while she allowed, before pausing, humming to myself.

Stepping forward, I smirked, ‘You’ve just got a little …’ I trailed off, my hand stretching out to her mouth, wiping the sugar and jam away.

‘Do I look like a mess?’ she asked, her free hand going to her lips to wipe at the sugar. I shook my head, leaning in for a kiss. I was right, she tasted strawberry sweet.

‘You look perfect,’ I smiled, stepping away from her. Dylan’s eyes dazzled over at me, the pink blush on her cheeks my new favourite colour.

‘Take one of us both.’ She wrapped an arm around me, pulling my body against hers. We both took a moment to pose, not caring whether anyone around us saw or what they thought. Just two tourists, sharing a doughnut selfie.

‘You know, if you do want to see the animals, I can take you to a sanctuary,’ she offered, as we started walking again. ‘There’s one just outside the city.’

‘That would be nice,’ I said. I’d been here so many times and never really had the chance to explore properly. It felt like a waste, given how settled we were here, to not try and at least see more.

‘I just thought …’ Dylan said, trailing off as we battled the busy crowds. ‘You might be going soon, with the tournament wrapping up soon.’

‘Going? Going where?’ I questioned.

‘Home? On tour?’ She listened, a forced smile on her lips. Dylan’s gaze darted from mine, as she said, ‘I don’t think we’ve spoken about what happens after.’

‘After,’ I repeated, understanding what she was asking.

What would happen with us? We hadn’t exactly discussed a lot of the logical stuff with us.

We’d been together for so long now, both as friends and then …

this, that we hadn’t had to. But with the end creeping up on us, maybe she was right to ask.

I swallowed, questioning, ‘Are you staying here? What’s next for you? ’

‘I’ve enjoyed the rest, and being home,’ she said, still looking worried.

‘I can tell. There’s such a big difference in you.’

She looked at me strangely, ‘Thanks?’

‘It’s supposed to be a compliment,’ I reassured.

‘You’re playing better too, but you just don’t seem as tired.

’ I remembered her months ago, even the first time we’d met.

She seemed like a shadow of herself. Talking negatively, never satisfied with her performance.

All I could hope was that I’d been part of the change in her life, a change for the better.

‘It’s a wonder what a real bed can do for a girl.

’ Dylan took another bite of her doughnut, her expression changing to something serious.

‘I think I’ve been enjoying myself so much that I didn’t think about what came next.

I know I don’t want to carry on how I was,’ she admitted. ‘But I love competing.’

I nodded, understanding what she was saying. ‘You can just decide what you want to do, when you want to do it. You’re good enough to keep up with everyone, and you are in charge of your own career.’

‘It feels weird to say I want to slow down. I’m not supposed to want that, right? I should want to play every single match all of the time. Keep trying to get better.’ She sounded unsure of her own words.

‘There’s no reason you can’t still do that but acknowledge when it’s good for you to take a break. Breathe and sit for a while,’ I advised, thinking of the breaks I had taken throughout my career. The world of good they had done me.

Dylan stopped beside me, her eyes looking around the city. ‘I was thinking about staying here for a little longer,’ she said, seeming a little unsure. ‘Maybe even until the summer. I’ve always hated the clay season.’

‘Yeah?’ I asked, feeling almost guilty for how happy her words made me. It felt selfish, to want her to take it easy, but staying with her these few months, living slowly and relaxed. I never wanted it to stop.

‘All that dust getting all over me?’ Her nose scrunched at the thought. ‘No thanks.’

‘What do you want to do instead?’ I asked.

Her gaze caught on mine. ‘Whatever I want, I guess? Stay home a little, without all the intense training. Travel, even.’

‘Would you mind …’ I trailed off, almost losing my courage. ‘Would you mind having a house guest for a little longer? Maybe even a travel buddy?’ I finished, waiting for the smile on her lips to diminish.

But it didn’t.

‘You’d want to stay?’ Dylan asked, her hand finding mine.

‘If it meant being with you,’ I nodded, ‘yes.’

She closed the small gap between us, our lips meeting as we kissed softly, the contact momentary before she pulled back, her arms around my neck as she cheekily smiled.

‘I better get the guest bedroom properly set up then.’

I laughed. ‘Absolutely not.’