Matchpoint

Chapter 10:

It feels as if someone has hammered a nail into my forehead, split my skull in two, and left me to bleed out on the floor.

The light hitting the pearl finished floor certainly is not helping. The glare makes my eyes squint, and my forehead creases.

Fuck, I wish I didn't drink last night, it's way too bright. And as I glance across the room, I watch Dom pull his body up against the horizontal pole. I can't help to feel this indescribable anger that anguishes my body, because if it weren't for his petty actions to prove my predictability, then I wouldn't have spent the rest of last night drinking and analysing his body language with others, wondering if any of them felt the heat I felt up close to him.

What I found was that no one in the room I was in last night seemed utterly fazed by being in Dom's presence and so close to him. Yet when he got all up in my face as a joke, I couldn't help but feel a bubble burst within me. He knew exactly what he was doing.

"After he finishes his morning workout, he's got a press team wanting to talk to him about his upcoming tournament in the Monte-Carlo Cup." Stack's stern voice snaps me from my irritable daze.

It feels strange to be part of such a prestigious tennis team. Sure, I've been with some upcoming stars in the past and helped Ladley to get them more sponsors, but I've never been in a team with such high status and profile. To the left of me, Ladley is writing in a journal her eyes cast up at Dom, watching his movements and breaths.

"His left shoulder is looking a but ginger, might get some attention to that." Philip comments, and Ladley hums in agreement. We're like Dom's personal body guards. We just sit, wait, and watch, sit, wait, and watch.

My eyes wander back over to Dom, and I watch his body contourts as he stretches out his body, his arms lifting over his head. The hem of his gym shirt rises above his waistline, and I see a slither of skin peak from beneath it. His sponsors must love him. He's a tease, a taunt, and a natural. He just emits that model effect.

As if sensing my gaze, Dom's eyes lock onto mine, and he grins. It's not just a casual grin, though. It's suggestive, cheeky, and knowing. I want to tell him that he has no idea what I'm thinking about, and yet, that would be a lie.

"You have an hour and a half till your press meeting Dom, go wash up." Stack yells across the room, and Dom winks at me once, before swiftly turning in his feet and heading out of the room.

Crossing his path as he does so is a bubbly personality who bounces into the room, eyes immediately landing on me. Jayce waves at everyone before beelining over to me and plopping himself down onto the bench opposite to mine.

"Good morning, Clove, I hope the headache hasn't burdened you too much this morning." Jayce smirks wildly. He's like a little puppy, bursting with energy and radiating with curiosity.

I hum in annoyance, "It's certainly a killer."

"Did you get your answers?" Jayce mocks me, and it takes great strength, not so slap that smug smirk off of his face.

"No, he's hardly a squealer when his intoxicated." I mutter lowly so that the rest of the room can't hear me.

"Yeahhh, so I may have exaggerated that part. He's certainly got tight lips. When you're the golden boy of tennis, you have to learn to keep a secret." My face drops. Like the features on my face literally melt off and flop into the floor.