Matchpoint

Chapter 14:

Intense green. That is the colour of his eyes as they pour into mine, completely and utterly consuming me in their gaze.

He is devouring me, capturing me in his meaningful look. I don't know how long we look at each other for, I don't know how quiet I am, I don't know when the shock of such a question will disappear.

There was a reason I kept that part of my story out. Dom didn't need to know that my father, who has taken him in, has had a history in emotional abuse. Though I'm the only one who has experienced it, and it was many years ago, the mention of such an incident may be triggering for him, I wasn't to know.

"I'm fine, thanks for asking." I snarl, lifting myself up and brushing my legs off. My gaze meets Dom's once more, and his lip is caught between his teeth.

"Are you alright?" He asks softly, but it seems forced.

"Yes." I mutter before turning and walking back to my waterbottle and taking a swig. To my utter annoyance, but not surprise, Dom chooses to follow me.

"Your father, Clove, he made you want to quit professional tennis?" Dom whispers to me, eyes darting towards Paul who seems to be setting up a drill, completely blind to our lack of training.

"I was never professional." I correct Dom, trying to avoid his question.

"But you were well on your way, any further, and you would've broken to the top 100 as a child." Dom states, and it shocks me that he knows that much. Dom recognises my surprise, and his cheeks deepen in colour. "I had to do some research. You're not easy to get commentary out of."

"We should be training." I state quickly, my heart beating as Dom digs deeper on the matter. Didn't he get enough out of his study session last night?

Dom catches my wrist, and he shakes his head softly. "Why wouldn't you tell me?"

"I didn't feel the need to." I shrug dismissively and glance down at his hand, his skin against mine. It sends a shock wave pulsing through my body.

"You didn't think that maybe it'd be good to know that one of the owners of my new academy has a history in abusive behaviours." Dom's eyebrows raise in suspicion.

"I didn't know your story till last night, and I didn't think it'd do much. What my father did, he did to me, he wouldn't dare speak to you in the same way. Besides, you have nothing to worry about. You have Ladley." The last sentence comes out a little bitter, but I try to ignore that tone in my voice.

"I suppose." Dom seems unsatisfied by my response, but I don't know what more he needs me to say.

"Can we go back now?" I querie Dom.

"Only if you promise there is nothing else you want to add to your story." He asks softly. "I thought we were being completely honest last night."

I gulp, the intensity. It's like he sees right through me.

"There's nothing else. My father was a shit coach, I fell out of love with the sport, and now I only choose to play for fun." I comment.

"You call this fun?" Dom makes a valid point, and I hate that he has found a counterargument to shake me up.

"I don't have a choice when it comes to this stuff." It's true, Father calls it imaging. He says that if our family all play a role in this business, then it looks harmonious. Once tennis people, always tennis people.

I think dad just likes me sticking around here because it means I'm still involved in tennis. It's like his own punishment to show me what I'm missing out on.

"Besides, it's fun when it wants to be." I shrug once more.

"Like when you get to play tennis against me." Dom releases my arm, his eyes sparkling with mischief.