Miles and I had been safely in opposite halves again in Canada, but now for the first time we were facing down a possible meeting.
“Don’t want to think about that,” I said as I gave him my second keycard and headed out.
“Make sure you talk about it though!” Tomas called after me. “It’s important!”
WE DID NOT talk about it. We did what we usually did, especially when we were on the clock – we pushed each other around, being dicks, until my fingers were locked in his hair and he was bent over gasping my name.
By the end, both our phones were buzzing with messages. Tomas had booked a court and wanted to leave in twenty minutes, and Tina was demanding to know where Miles was. I told Tomas that if he fetched my bag, I could meet them downstairs, and so, having gotten dressed, Miles and I did something we’d not done since London – we left together. We were only heading down to the foyer to meet other people, yet it was nice all the same. And for a moment as Miles pulled his door closed with a glance along the empty hallway, I had the urge to slide my hand into his.
It was early afternoon, the day before the tournament, and the hotel foyer was buzzing. Miles didn’t balk at the possible attention—two players walking somewhere together hardly noteworthy in the grand scheme of things—but he did add a step of distance between us.
“Where are you meeting your team?” he asked, halting near a pair of couches and glancing around.
“Here somewhere, but Tomas said two so I’ve probably got a few minutes.”
Miles nodded, bringing his gaze back from a circuit of the room. “Well, I don’t know what Tina wants, so in case I don’t get the chance to say it later, happy hunting tomorrow.”
“Ah yes, since we plebs have to play while you fancy top players get a day off.”
“It’s not my fault that’s how this works!” he laughed.
“Sure.”
“There you are!”
We both turned to find Tina striding toward us in what I’d come to realise was her signature style – a flowing sundress, wavy beach hair and enormous sunglasses. It was a look constructed to appear deceptively simple so people would underestimate her because, like her brother, Tina never did anything by accident. The woman beside her, on the other hand, had dialled for Hollywood glamour and landed on overly-contrived wax doll. Yes, I was being extremely unfair, but knowing that wasn’t going to change my opinion. Not for Emily Rose Johnson.
“I’ve been messaging you for the last forty minutes,” Tina added as she reached us.
“I know, why do you think I’m here?” Miles said, stepping forward to greet first his sister then Emily with a kiss on the cheek. There was nothing particularly romantic about it, the onlydifference between the two that he set a hand lightly upon Emily’s hip as he did so – a touch there and gone yet lingering on in my mind because while it was nothing, it was still too much to ever do to me in a busy hotel foyer. “Emily, this is Matteo Russo,” he said, gesturing to me. “Mat, Emily Rose Johnson.”
‘I know’, I wanted to say, or ‘yes, the beard’, or even just ‘fuck off’, but I had manners and occasionally a brain, so I said, “Lovely to meet you,” and held out my hand with a smile.
She took it, her slim fingers gripping mine in a constricting handshake. “You too, Matteo,” she said, smiling as though she wasn’t trying to crush my hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Not from me,” Miles said, glancing Tina’s way with a raised brow.
“Oh, no.” Emily let me go, smile not missing a beat. “Everyone seems to be talking about theRusso Rise. You’ve made quite the comeback.”
“You’re a tennis fan then?” I asked, embarrassingly aware of the bright, sharp edge in my tone.
Perhaps she caught it, or perhaps she already suspected who I was to him, for she slid her arm possessively around Miles’s. “Sometimes. Although, mostly I’m just a Miles fan.”
A snarled coil of jealousy lashed up my throat, and I needed to get out of there before I could no longer swallow it. Some stupid part of me wanted to stay and stake my claim to him, but I was just the secret fuck with no claim to stake, so I said, “Right, well, I’ll leave you to it. I’ve got practice.” And I nodded to Emily Rose fucking Johnson, the simple gesture like biting my tongue. “It was lovely to meet you.”
“You too,” she said brightly, and with a perfunctory smile at Tina and a total inability to even look at Miles, I escaped toward the hotel doors.
Once out in the fresh air, I wished I could just keep walkinguntil the furious energy wore off, but I had practice to get to and a tournament to prepare for and no business being as annoyed as I was. So, letting out a heavy breath, I leaned against the wall by the doors to wait for Tomas and Macca.
My phone buzzed. Miles.
sorry, i didn’t know tina was bringing her
It’s fine, I was going to practice anyway,I wrote back, intending to leave it there. But as the seconds stretched with no reply and no coach arriving to save me, I added,She does know you’re gay, right?
god yes, i’m not stupid and cruel.Half a minute crawled by, then he added,it was an up-front deal. i get a beard, she gets the fame. she likes the media attention, not me
As those words appeared, I imagined turning to see him through the foyer windows, where he would be looking at his phone instead of his companions. But that would mean looking at Emily, so I just focussed on his words as he went on typing.in the spirit of total honesty, i’ll admit she did try to kiss me once after a party about six months ago. i think she was just drunk. or she thought the right kiss could turn me bi
