68. | Quit

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When I finally leave my hotel room the following afternoon to get food. I step out of the elevator, opening onto the main lobby, I see Lewis standing in the middle of the lobby signing an autograph for a teenage girl. She walks away before she sees me approaching, a huge smile on her face as she walks over to her mum, showing the paper in her hand.

Almost instinctively, my feet head in his direction. And before I even register what I was doing, I was standing in front of him. He says, "I wasn't sure if you'd want me here or not. But I figured you wouldn't be shy about telling me to fuck off if you didn't"

I drop my things and hug him.

I can feel his surprise, he freezes for a millisecond before but he quickly wraps his arms around my waist.

I don't know what made me do it.

It's so unlike me.

Especially when you consider the fact we were standing in the middle of a lobby.

But I just knew one thing. It didn't feel wrong.

"Dust yourself off" he says in my ear "Your best surface is just around the bend. I for one, cannot wait to witness you raising that Wimbledon trophy again"

His arms are warm and sturdy. His body is strong. I feel like I could go slack against him and he'd hold me up, that he could bear my weight— the weight of my body, the weight of my failure.




































 I feel like I could go slack against him and he'd hold me up, that he could bear my weight— the weight of my body, the weight of my failure

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~ Comments ~

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~ Comments ~

@DelaneyRicciardo - Dam, you know you really suck when even the Daily Mail is telling you to give up





























































@DelaneyRicciardo - Dam, you know you really suck when even the Daily Mail is telling you to give up

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