Matchpoint

Chapter 63:

He's on the floor. His limbs stretched out as he takes in the applause and the screams of the crowd. I'm engulfed in hugs and covered in tears. He did it. He fucking did it.

I can hear Dom's mum sobbing, her voice breaking as she tells her husband how proud she is.

This is a defining moment. A second of pure greatness.

Something we've fought for. A challenge we rose to. And we did it. Dom and I and our team.

"Fucking Wimbeldon baby!" Jayce hoots beside me, his arm wrapped around my neck as he pulls me in close.

"Clove! Darling, you did it!" Stack takes me from Jayce, her body shaking with adrenaline, tears soaking her cheek.

"We did it." I squeeze her tightly.

The crowd is still applauding, like a this is a musical receiving a standing ovation. I guess it is music to my ears.

I let myself soak in every sound. The claps, the whistles, the calls. They're all for Dom, all for everything he has done to get here and win.

"Don't look now, but uh, golden boy is making his way toward us." Jayce says it with a slight jest, but I can see how excited he is to congratulate his friend. Someone he has seen go through so much.

Sure enough, the fire headed boy breaks his way through the cheering crowd, slowly climbing the stands to reach our box. As he does so, I can feel my heart begin to race. Not the same way it did watching Dom play, a race of pure pride, but also a rush of sadness, a sadness that comes with not knowing whether I can hug him without criticism.

But I have little time to consider because suddenly Paul is lifting Dom up onto our platform and embracing him tightly.

Dom makes his way down the line. Hugging his sobbing parents, poking Zara on the nose. Beaming at a disbelieving Stack and smashing fists with his best mate. And then the line finishes. It's just me.

"You did it." I smirk up at him, loving the way his eyes sparkle with success.

"We did it." Dom corrects me. His eyes flicker down to my lips, and I know exactly what he is thinking. My breaths become deep and hard. So many thoughts, so many wishes. I could kiss him.

"Dom..." I give him a knowing look, only for it to be returned with a grin of mischief before raising his finger to his lips, trying to tell me to be quiet for a second.

"I just won Wimbeldon, Clove, but that whole game, every set, every game, I kept replaying the words you said, the fire it lit within. If it wasn'talready burning, it detinitely was once you told me you loved me," Dom whispers and then without hesitation his hand slides up the back of my neck and he pulls me into him. Our lips collide, and I can hear the crowd cry with excitement. There are some wolf whistles, hoots, and applause. I should feel embarrassed and fearful, and yet I don't. I feel like that was so right and so perfect.

Dom pulls away, a satisfied smirk plastered on his face as he strokes my cheek. "I love you, Clove, I fucking love you." He whispers, forehead leaning against mine.

I smile up at him, my body humming with delight and satisfaction. "I love you." I remove his hat and run my fingers through his ginger hair. His cheeks are pink, and dare I say, not from the game.

Everything around us drowns out. It's just the two of us and the love we have for each other. Me and him, that's all I want. No crowd. No trophy ceremony. Just us.

Then suddenly, we're interrupted by a soft clearing of the throat. We both glance over at Stack who's pointing down at the ceremony, and the many cameras that are now focused on us. This is definitely going to make the headlines by tonight. Ah fuck it.