Clean Point

28 Scottie

28

Superbloodmoon (feat. d4vd) – Holly Humberstone

Nico smirked across the breakfast bar at me, the curve of his lips yet another reminder of exactly what had gone down on this very surface just the night before.

My lips against his. My legs wrapped around his waist, pulling and rubbing. His hands down my skirt.

I swallowed yet another uncomfortable mouthful of oatmeal, looking down at the bowl as I tried to avoid eye contact with Nico and another blush threatened to rise to my cheeks. He was already there when I came down for breakfast, a cocky look all over his face, as if he had been waiting for me since the sun had risen. As if he might not have slept at all.

‘Did you get up to anything last night, Scottie?’ Nico leaned forward on his elbows, his head between his hands as if he was a schoolgirl looking for his dish on the latest drama. I gritted my teeth, trying to find some resolve.

It had been tempted for a moment to tell him what I really did after he left me last night. What I did when I was finally alone. How I couldn’t stop myself from crying his name. How the thought of him had kept me twisting up in my sheets all night. How I ran the batteries of my vibrator flat trying to chase away the memory of him telling me how wet I was when he’d had his hand down my skirt.

Instead, my answer was the squeak of a mouse, heat rising to my cheeks despite every effort to contain the embarrassment. ‘Nothing.’

I should really be a lot cooler than this. It wasn’t even sex. I’d done worse with many more people, but there was something different about it this time.

Being with me, with what I would bring to his life. Drama, and that lack of privacy I’d given away over the last few years, the press following my every step, hunting me around cities. Nico was used to putting on a baseball hat, enjoying his peace. When we’d arrived at the airport here, that was the first time he’d been pap-ed in years. I’d checked last night, trying to find topless photos of him. Meanwhile, these last weeks were the longest I could remember not seeing any paparazzi. I was surprised they hadn’t reported me missing.

He took a bite from the corner of his toast. Chewing had never looked so self-satisfied. ‘Aren’t you going to ask what I got up to?’

‘I’m not sure I need to ask.’

‘Ask what?’ Jon appeared from over my shoulder, storming through the kitchen as he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

‘Nothing,’ I stammered, almost choking on air. ‘Doesn’t matter.’

‘It’s good you’re both here, anyway. I thought you might be taking advantage of the day off to sleep in.’

We had practice later in the day, but mostly we were wrapping up the intense schedule of the camp. We’d be travelling tomorrow, and then the focus would be adjusting back to London conditions.

‘Didn’t get much sleep last night,’ Nico said, his tone unusually chipper for a man who apparently didn’t get his full eight hours.

Jon took a sip from his bottle. ‘Why not?’

‘I was a bit distracted.’

‘I guess that’s to be expected.’ If Jon had any inkling of something going on between us, it didn’t show. ‘Are you both packed?’

‘Still a bit to go, but I’ll finish after breakfast,’ I managed, trying to stop myself from looking over at Nico.

‘Good.’ Jon moved on. ‘Listen … I’ve got some news.’

His words pulled Nico’s gaze from me, the burning spotlight finally turned. ‘What?’

‘I need both of you to stay … calm. I don’t want to get punched again.’

Nico’s brows furrowed, his arms crossing. ‘I won’t punch you.’

‘Just … tell us,’ I managed, despite a dry mouth.

Jon looked from Nico to me. One last hesitation in his voice before he delivered the blow. ‘Matteo is going to be at the competition.’

‘What?’ Nico snapped, standing up from his chair. His palms pressed into the marble surface, fingers spreading out. It was all I could focus on, the space right in front of me.

Jon paused monetarily, giving himself time to make sure that Nico wasn’t about to do something stupid. Again. ‘The rumour is that he’s attending as a coach. And my sources are pretty reliable.’

Nico swore, pacing across the kitchen, his hand rubbing at his face. I hadn’t heard the rest of their conversation, the words out of focus, a high-pitched noise drowning it all out. He was attending as a coach. My body had turned cold, my food turning into a brick in the pit of my stomach.

Finally, I managed a single question. ‘He’s been training somebody else?’

Jon nodded. ‘I didn’t expect it, either.’

‘I can’t believe he would show his face. He knows she’ll be there,’ Nico said, missing the point entirely.

I had known on some level that he’d try to crawl back. Tennis had been his world too after all. But what I had never predicted, stupid and self-centred as it was, was that he’d take somebody else on as a coach.

‘Do you know who?’ I asked.

‘No, I’ll try to find out more,’ Jon promised, his words weighing heavy on me. If I had told the truth of what Matteo had done instead of taking all the blame, this would be different. Revenge had been the only thing I had been concerned with, my judgement clouded by foolishness to think he’d never take on another person to train. Someone he could hurt like he hurt me.

I looked down at my bandaged hand, the pain across my palms burning like wildfire. He had been a loving father. I knew that. I had memories of that. He had been with me from the beginning of my career. We’d eat together, drill together, play together, train together. He’d smile at me, tell me that I could be the best in the sport, that we would do that together.

But when I got injured, maybe he got impatient, or his ego had been bruised one too many times. Or maybe I’d been too young and foolish to see how willing he was to break his daughter to keep his own legacy in tennis going.

But I should’ve seen he wouldn’t stop.

‘This is my fault.’

Nico’s head snapped to look at me, his eyes narrowed. ‘What do you mean?’

‘If I’d told people what he had done …’

Jon pulled out the chair next to me, softly placing a comforting hand on my shoulder as he shook his head. ‘There would always be somebody who would take him on.’

Nico took a step closer to the counter. ‘None of this is your fault, Scottie.’

I closed my eyes, trying to believe their words, trying to convince myself that whether I had spoken out, this all would’ve happened, anyway. Nobody would’ve believed me. They wouldn’t have listened. I had no proof, one witness at best. And despite years of being confident that would’ve been the case, I didn’t feel so sure anymore. Nico believed me. If he did … could everyone else?

I pushed up out of the chair, my thoughts overwhelming. ‘I need some air.’

They were silent for a moment, both sets of eyes assessing as I turned, walking around them to the double glass doors that led out into the garden.

‘Is there anything I can do?’ Jon asked.

I didn’t even turn, craving the fresh salt air of the beach. ‘Just find out who, if you can. And how long he’s been training them for.’

I watched the waves roll over the sand, listening to the seagulls, feeling the grit of the warm sand on the palm of my uninjured hand. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been sitting out there, basking in the sun. He would be there. I would have to face him. And the entire world would watch. Would I have to play in front of him as well?

‘Scottie.’

I turned, and found Nico struggling up a dune, a grimace on his face as he battled the hard walk through the soft sand, his baseball cap backward on his head. I turned back to the waves as he sat down next to me, saying nothing else.

‘Did Jon send you out?’

‘He actually made me wait. Said you needed to be alone.’

‘How ever did you escape?’

‘Elena distracted him for a moment, and I snuck out,’ he said. ‘I had a feeling you’d be here instead of the court.’

‘I figured I’d destroyed enough rackets for one camp,’ I joked, but it wasn’t even like I was angry. It felt like somebody had thrown a bucket of water on the raging fire that had been fuelling me for the last few years, all my fight extinguished.

I let out a heavy breath, knowing I was safe here, watching the waves roll in with him. ‘I could’ve stopped this, Nico. I should’ve stopped it.’

‘You had your reasons.’

‘What if he does the same thing to somebody else?’

His hand found mine, fingers rough as his palm slid against my own and squeezed ever so tightly. ‘He might not. Jon’s going to find out who, and then we can go from there.’

I nodded, knowing he was right. ‘I … I knew I’d have to face him some day, but … I thought I’d at least have more than a few days’ notice.’

I closed my eyes, now able to face the truth. ‘Nico, I’m … I’m scared.’

‘He won’t be able to get to you,’ he promised.

‘He’ll always get his way. That’s why I ran, why I did all of this.’

‘I won’t let him.’ He shook his head, a stern look on his face. ‘He’s done hurting you. You ran when you needed to, but now, you’re strong enough to fight. I’ll be with you the entire time.’ Something flickered in his eyes as he bit his lower lip, releasing it before he spoke. ‘You aren’t alone in this.’

I breathed in the salt air, choosing to believe what he said. Whether it was my fault or not, he was right. I wasn’t alone.

‘You’ll be there?’ My voice was a stupid fragile thing, my mind cast back to the night before.

I only care that you’re okay and safe.

He smiled softly. ‘Even if it means I can’t leave your side.’

A single laugh escaped me, before I tilted my head looking at him. ‘I wouldn’t go that far.’

‘If it kept you safe, Scottie, I would.’ There was no humour left in his voice, his lips pressed into a firm line. Then, his body relaxing somewhat, he lifted the hat from his head and placed it on mine.

‘You keep leaving me with your lucky hat.’ I smiled, despite the size a little too loose on my smaller head, comfort, safety and the smell of his shampoo almost overwhelmed me.

He tilted his head to me, a knowing smile. ‘I don’t need it anymore. I’ve got you, katsarída.’

I loudly huffed, breaking the tension. ‘Not that nickname again.’

His smile was incomparable, teasing me with the name I hadn’t heard for weeks, as he leaned back into the sand.

‘Are you ever going to tell me what it means?’

He hummed, looking uncertain for a moment. ‘I’m not sure we’ll be friends after.’

‘It can’t be that bad, right?’ I urged, eyes glancing over his face, taking in the tight restraint on his face. ‘Right?’ I repeated,in a much smaller, less confident voice.

‘Look, I was being a dick when I said it. I didn’t really mean it.’

I thought back to the plane journey here. I felt like a different person, somebody who was holding onto a secret so tightly they could hardly breathe. Being with him, working and growing closer, I’d never been able to be so open with somebody, and feel comforted in the knowledge that I was truly safe with them.

‘Yes, you definitely did.’ I laughed, calling him on his bluff. He grimaced, but I pressed on. ‘Just tell me.’

He let out a deep breath. ‘It means … cockroach.’

‘Excuse me?’ I stared at him, slack jawed and confused.

‘In Greek,’ he added, unnecessarily. I had paused for a moment, looking ahead at the rolling ocean waves, before returning, my brain a stalled engine.

‘Cockroach,’ I repeated.

He nodded.

‘Like … the little bug with all the legs. The disgusting, garbage thing?’

I knew what a cockroach was, what I didn’t know was why the man who almost had his head between my legs last night was calling me one.

‘I didn’t mean it,’ he said, as if that was supposed to be a comfort. ‘At first.’

‘At first?’ I shrieked in confusion, really not sure how to take it. How was someone supposed to react to being called a gross trash bug in a different language?

‘Look, yes it’s a bug, it was a mindless insult I promise. But it … worked? They say if there was ever a nuclear winter, like world ending shit, that the cockroaches would survive.’

Another shriek. ‘So?’

‘That’s you.’

A single eyebrow pushed up. ‘I’m a bug?’

‘No, you’re strong.’ His words caught me off guard, if still recovering from the true meaning of the nickname. ‘You went through hell and survived it. You’re a force to be reckoned with. On and off the court. I don’t know how, but you survived the unimaginable, and came back. I don’t think many people could do what you have.’

‘Okay, well …’ I trailed off, still very unsure of this. ‘I think there was a compliment in there. Somewhere. But I still don’t appreciate it.’

‘I can understand that.’

‘Maybe I should come up with a meaner nickname for you,’ I teased, trying to move on.

‘Because calling me ancient wasn’t mean enough?’

‘It was “old man” actually,’ I corrected. ‘And at least it wasn’t a literal bug.’

‘True,’ he admitted, still looking rather guilty. ‘How about I come up with another nickname?’

I paused, lips pressing together. ‘How about just use my name?’

‘But where’s the fun in that?’

I couldn’t help but laugh, hating how effortlessly I had almost forgiven him. ‘You’ll have to make it a really good nickname.’

He opened his mouth to reply, when a cat from the villa pushed in between us, rubbing its head and neck against Nico’s arm.

Nico tsked. ‘What do you want? I don’t have any food for you.’ But instead of shooing the cat away, he rubbed its head, giving in to its little feline demands.

It wasn’t until he had the cat scooped up into his arms that I interrupted, ‘What happened to hating the cats?’

‘Annoying,’ he admitted. ‘They’ve clawed their way to my heart.’ Then he smiled at me, a self-satisfied look spread wide across his face. ‘Almost like somebody else I know.’