Matchpoint

Chapter 55:

Dom's next few games are spectacular. He continues to rise to the challenge. Falters here and there, but he seems confidently reckless. Every match he plays, he pays little attention to the box. Instead, those green gems manage to find me in the crowd, no matter how far back I am. We're magnets. We'll always collide.

Even once his game has finished, Dom hardly sticks around. He makes a small wave to the crowd, signs the camera, and has left the arena before anyone can catch him. He's sticking it to my parents. The comments for them keep getting worse.

Dad has tried calling me a few times, but I let it ring out. If he wants to talk, he can come find me, I'm not having a heated argument over the phone.

There is one call I have been taking, though. One that comes at the same time every night, after every match, after every sly look from the court.

"Your parents have given up trying to talk to me." Dom snickers over the phone. I can just imagine him laying on his bed, arms tucked behind his head, phone resting beside him on the pillow.

"That's because they have nothing to say," I smirk up at the ceiling, wishing it were me lying beside him.

"Did I at least do you proud today?" I can practically hear the grin at this point.

I roll over in bed, my stomach exploding with butterflies. "Of course, you always do." I whisper, thinking about the way he played against Medvedev today. So strong, so powerful, and so consistent. He didn't falter once today. It was straight sets and game over. Medvedev didn't even throw a fit. He simply shook Dom's hand and left the court with a hearty chuckle.

In fact, in his post interview, he even commented on Dom's win and how impressed he is.

"Look, this is second time I play Fraser and both time his game has been influenced by the Dunn daughter. There is something special about a partnership like that. Us players can all agree that the boy needs his old coach back, and it's about time we stood getting involved." When Holly showed me the video, I felt like I had exploded. That is a lot coming from Medvedev. 

"I only play for you." Dom whispers over the phone, his words caressing me through the phone. "To see your smile, your pride, your relief."

I'm blushing. Mt body feels hot. I love him.

"One more match, and then you're into the finals." I attempt to change the subject, nervous that if Dom says too much, I may just tell him how I feel.

"Yeah, but you see who I'm up against, right?" I did see, I wasn't too happy. "Fucking Draper, I just know he'll have something to say."

"Yes, but who cares what he has to say. You're the better player. You have me in your corner." I respond, hoping he'll see that Draper is simply jealous.

"I may have you in my corner, but it's still not my box." Dom mutters.

"I'll be in the stands. I'll be watching you. It doesn't matter where I sit, I'm still rooting for you, I'm still yours." I whisper, and there is a silence on the other side of the phone.

"If I win the semi-final, I want you in my box for the final." His words are harsh. "I don't just want you there, I'll need you there."

"Dom, you don't need me. You are the player you are because of your hard work, I merely make comments of correction." I smile down at the phone.

"Maybe, but you bestow the passion in me. When I'm playing, I'm not just plating for me anymore," he pauses, and I feel the heat bloom in my stomach and stretch across my cheeks. "I play for us."

"Whatever happens tomorrow, you know I'm there every step of the way." I whisper.

"I know." He whispers, and between us, there's an unspoken sentence, one where we admit we love each other. But those words are yet to be said aloud. I'll know when it's the right time.