Page 64 of Game Point (Game, Set, and Match #2)

Anti Hero – Taylor Swift

‘Please welcome to the dancefloor for their first dance, the bride and groom!’

The crowd around us burst into celebration as our friends appeared at the doorway of the grand ballroom, the room filled with delighted guests.

Dylan, to my left, wolf whistled as Scottie passed us, her blue eyes narrowing playfully over at us.

The bride was dressed in what I was sure was something vintage and couture, hand in hand with Nico who looked adoringly at his new wife, his eyes never leaving her.

I suspected they never would again.

A song started playing, a soft piano ballad as the happy couple swept onto the ballroom floor, holding each other close as we all watched them take their first dance.

‘Cute, isn’t it?’ I nudged Dylan slightly, catching the crinkle of a smile on her lips.

The curve flattened, her arms crossing against the red silk bridesmaid dress she wore. ‘A little cheesy if you ask me.’

‘What’s a wedding without a little cheese?’ I smirked, this time nudging my hip into her side, enjoying every moment of contact I could get. We’d both spent the night apart, her being a bridesmaid for Scottie, and me a groomsman for Nico. I was still making up for lost time.

‘Bearable,’ she answered, sounding a little grumpy, but she’d spent half the day with a smile spread across those perfect lips, running around Scottie and making sure her dress was always perfect, her glass always full.

How they’d grown together as friends always made me laugh, never being able to place the old Dylan Nico had once warned me about.

‘You can’t tell me you haven’t enjoyed today,’ I argued.

She hummed to herself, looking back at Scottie and Nico. ‘It’s been …’

‘Romantic?’ I suggested.

‘Expensive.’

I laughed to myself, shaking my head at her answer, partially thankful we had moved to the back of the crowd where we couldn’t offend anyone. Dylan’s gaze searched the vast luxurious ballroom, every inch of it decorated beautifully.

‘A three-day retreat in the Scottish wilderness?’ she stressed. ‘Our gift bags rival the shit they give out at the Oscars.’

I grinned over at her. ‘We are an hour outside of Inverness. I’m not sure if this counts as wilderness.’

The wedding had been held at Scottie’s mum’s family estate; the land had apparently been in her family for generations.

But after the house fell to ruin, the Sinclairs had moved down to the south, and Scottie’s mother, Kit, had taken it upon herself a decade ago to restore the near literal castle to its former glory.

Dylan looked unconvinced, a hand on her hip. ‘I’m not sure. Kit was talking about taking us fishing tomorrow. This is as wild as I’m willing to get.’

‘Can everyone please grab a loved one and join the bride and groom on the dancefloor,’ the words boomed over the music, and the crowd around us moved swiftly, each of them pairing up and heading straight for the dancefloor.

I expected a fight from Dylan. But instead, she surprised me, her hands slipped into mine, pulling our bodies against each other, and I couldn’t help the reminder of why I loved her, the feeling like a warm ache in my heart.

After a trip back to the UK, to introduce Dylan to my family and ship over the rest of my things, we’d returned to Australia, her house slowly becoming ours as we unpacked her things, with mine.

A spare bed had been built in the guest room, but apart from the occasional guest, it remained untouched. Then we’d travelled, taking our time across the country, before trekking across Asia, enjoying being away from the court.

When she felt ready, she’d rejoined the tournaments, entering competitions where I could support her. With Dylan, even hotels felt like home.

I’d been working as a commentator, enjoying the ability to still be a part of the sport even if it was from the box. I sat out her matches, instead watching from the stands as a fan. They’d let me commentate one, but apparently my bias was a little too obvious.

‘So, this isn’t your style?’ I asked, an eyebrow pushed up.

‘Not exactly.’ We stayed together, moving slowly in the crowd, my hands pressing against bare soft skin. A small smile crept onto her lips, as she winked, ‘The bride’s night was my kind of thing though.’

All the guests had been sworn to secrecy about the trip, each of them giggling to each other, whispering as they discussed the details too scandalous for their partners.

‘Do I want to know?’ I mumbled, knowing I’d never find out.

She only raised an eyebrow, ‘Dare I ask about Nico’s bucks’ night?’

‘Nico was asleep by ten!’ I smirked, remembering the trip we all took to Miami. ‘I mean we also all decided to go to bed. But we drew penises on his face before we did.’

‘Sounds like Nico.’ She laughed, the sound never growing old, always sounding perfect. ‘Today has been nice,’ she admitted. ‘But I don’t think a big thing like this is something I’d want.’

‘No?’ I tilted my head. She took a moment, her gaze taking in the large crowd. There had been people flying in from all corners of the world for the big day. It was like a goddamn tennis reunion around here. There wasn’t a Wimbledon winner alive who wasn’t here.

‘More like …’ she looked back at me, ‘What about back home, on the beach. Our families, some friends.’

‘We could have the reception in the yard,’ I suggested, the image playing perfectly in my head. Dylan, dressed probably in any colour other than white, her brunette hair down, blowing in the wind.

Both of us, standing on the quiet beach just outside Melbourne, the one where I’d got down on one knee.

‘Exactly,’ she lit up at the idea. I couldn’t help leaning close, her perfume filling the air as I pressed my lips to hers. She smelt like home.

I rested my head against her forehead. The music changed around us, but we kept dancing, kept swaying. ‘That sounds perfect.’

‘Yeah?’ Her expression turned slightly worried. ‘I’d have thought you’d want something like … this.’ Dylan motioned around the busy ballroom. ‘Something big. Every single person you’ve ever met in your life all gathered in one room.’

How did I tell her she was all I wanted?

‘I want what you want,’ I said, ‘and not just because it’s what you’ve asked for, but because it sounds perfect to me.’

Her lips found mine again, this time pulling me in deeper.

‘Get a room, you two.’ I heard the words, turning on instinct to find Inés grinning from the other side of the dancefloor, her arms wrapped around her own date.

Dylan just pulled away, sticking her middle finger up at her friend, before kissing me again, not caring at all about who saw. I was hers, and everyone knew it.

The cold wind blew hard across the tennis court, the grey sky unwilling to allow any sunshine in.

‘I thought it was supposed to be summer,’ Dylan mumbled beside me, her body almost shivering.

I spotted Nico and Scottie talking on the other side of the court. I turned a hand out flat, palm towards the sky. Did I just feel rain? ‘Apparently this is it.’

‘I can’t believe you’ve dragged us into playing doubles tennis with you again,’ Dylan shouted across the court, the two other players turning towards her.

We’d won the first game, but with every muscle already aching in my painfully hung-over body, I wasn’t sure how I’d gone from a breakfast buffet and a bloody Mary station to a tennis court to play mixed doubles tennis the morning after their wedding. This was supposed to be a relaxing holiday.

Dylan crossed her arms, speaking loud enough for our opposition to hear, ‘I’m telling you it’s like foreplay to these people.’

‘It is not,’ Nico shouted.

At the same time, Scottie also replied, ‘I mean … kinda.’

Dylan smirked. ‘Told you.’

I shook my head, not sure how to process what I was being forced to experience.

‘Just serve already!’ Scottie shouted back, softly hitting a ball over to land inches away from Dylan’s feet.

‘Yeah, what are you? Scared?’ Nico shouted.

Dylan scrambled, grabbing the ball before it got away from her. Then with a playful scowl, she stuck her tongue out towards our competitors before turning to me, throwing the ball over. ‘Give them hell, Anderson!’

‘Sure thing, boss,’ I smirked over at her, catching it against my chest. Dylan grinned cockily back at me as we passed each other, getting into position. She ahead and to the left, my feet finding the serving line.

Scottie and Nico did the same across the court, and my gaze turned back to my girl, who was now in position, ready for the game to begin.

Carefully, I served, throwing the ball high in the air, my racket striking and sending it across the court to where Nico lay in wait. The battle commenced as the shot landed near Dylan and she grunted, sending it back over the net.

We continued like that, running all over the court to keep up with the Wimbledon-winning couple. Mixed doubles was their speciality, but I had Dylan on my side, her fight relentless, her ability sharp no matter the odds.

I understood Scottie and Nico’s love for playing together, not only for the teamwork but for the opportunity to work with the person I loved and admired more than anyone in the world. A chance to see her strength up front, and for once, not be on the receiving end of her competitiveness.

And I knew with certainty that it was us against the world. That she would always have my back, and I would always support her. No matter where it took us. However many miles from family, across whichever continent, from our home. We would do it together.

And as she spiked the ball high over the net, flying past our opponents, Dylan grinned back at me, a devilish look that I swore I would never tire of.

30–Love