Miles was waiting when I got back, sitting on the couch reading in his lazy-day jeans. For a moment, I wondered whether he’d let himself in or Katie had, before realising it didn’t fucking matter – I would give him the keys to my life if he asked.
“Hey you,” he said, setting down my e-reader with a soft, welcoming smile and a flash of those come-fuck-me eyes.
What a sight to come home to. Yet the feeling it left me with was one I desperately needed not to interrogate, so I dropped my bags and said, “Here for your pre-match railing?”
“You know it.”
We fucked hard and fast, two men who knew their time was running out – everything beyond Wimbledon a question that had no answer. And in the aftermath, the sheer intensity with which I wanted to stay lying there trading soft kisses got me to my feet to clean up. Miles watched, dark eyes always on me.
“Third round,” he said after a while, happy to remain stretched out and sated on my sheets. “Thirty-two players left in the draw and Matteo Russo is one of them. Have you looked where your ranking will—?”
“No!” I cried, throwing up a protective hand. “And please don’t tell me. Best I keep the overthinking to a minimum, yeah?”
A smile twitched his lips. “Look at you being all wise. Well, I hope Danny is on it, because you could probably play Canada and Cincinnati.”
“Masters tournaments?”
“Yeah, why not?”
I shook my head, a little dazed at the idea. It had been three years since I’d last played one, before my protected ranking had dried up. “I guess I just hadn’t really thought about how much difference backing up after the French would make, and I’m not sure I want to start thinking about it now.”
“Get Danny on it then.” He rolled onto his side, head propped on one hand. “In the meantime, are you going to come watch me tomorrow? In my box? The interviewer said I could invite friends.”
“Yes, and then you went and wrote an invitation on the camera with fucking heart hands and now I can’t!”
Miles screwed up his nose. “Why not? No one will think it was a message to you specifically.”
“Was it?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Right, and that’s exactly what they’ll think if I’m the only one who shows up. Invite a bunch of people and maybe I could.”
This earned a resolute shake of his head. “No, I’m making a dramatic statement with the empty box, remember? But you’re allowed because fellow players don’t count.”
The urge to rejoin him was getting strong. It was my bed and he was lounging there like he meant to remain, the space I was holding between us pulling taut like a shortening string. “And if they take one look at me and assume this is what’s going on?” I asked, gesturing between us to encompass the myriad of hot fucks.
“That’s a stretch. More likely they’ll think I’m making a further point about my lack of team, since your box is always empty. And if you don’t save me, Tina will probably use that camera message as a publicity stunt and run a competition for my most intense fans.Andshe’ll make me give them a tour. Then it’ll be just a matter of time before one of them trips so I have to catch them, or walks into me in a doorway so they can feel me up.”
“Wow, your life is so hard.”
“Fuck you!” he laughed. “How would you like it, huh?”
“Thankfully, not something I have to deal with. The joys of not having intense fans,” I added quickly, because the fastest way he could protect himself from that kind of attention would be to tell the world he was gay – something he surely knew and yet resisted all the same. Something that was none of my business.
But it was the second time he’d asked and I really did want to go, want to be the one he’d chosen, even as just a friend. So I said, “Next time.”
“Next time what?”
“If we’re both still here next time you play, ask me again.”
THIS TIME, I sat camped on the couch to watch Miles play, while Katie pottered around finishing her packing. Despite his fear Tina would fill his player’s box with screaming fans, it was once again empty. He was turning toward it less, too, like he was slowly learning he was on his own. Not that it seemed to be affecting his game.
He took the first set easily, and as the coverage went to a break, Katie dropped onto the couch beside me with a sigh. “I’m going to miss you, you know.”
“You’ll see me in New York in six weeks.”
“Yeah, but . . .” She gestured at the tiny apartment with its dinky kitchenette and faded carpet. “I’ll miss this.”
