Chapter 15
Dane
Three months later
I managed to get Alex home in time for Christmas, which is a good thing because his mum would’ve killed me if I hadn’t. The snow wasn’t heavy enough to ground our flight, but it cut short our sightseeing. Not that either of us were complaining about being forced to stay in bed together all day.
It didn’t turn out to be a White Christmas, like I’d gloomily predicted.
But a few soft snowflakes started falling on Boxing Day, just as Alex came over to my place so we could exchange gifts.
He looked adorable in the Santa hat that he knows I love.
He gave me a tennis racket that was way too expensive.
He also tried again to pay for his half of the Edinburgh trip.
He’s annoyingly tenacious. I was forced to shut him up with aggressive kisses until he saw sense.
He almost cried when I gave him his present: a guitar effects pedal.
Overdrive, to be precise. It looked pretty rubbish to me: just a small metal box.
I have no idea what it even does. I was afraid it wasn’t enough, but Olivia assured me it was exactly what he wanted.
Judging by his tearful reaction, she was right.
Like I promised, I told my family about the two of us.
When I broke the news, all Dad said was: “Right.” And then he went back to watching TV.
I didn’t expect him to open his arms in a big dramatic moment and tell me I’m still his son and he just wants me to be happy and all that stuff.
I would’ve been a bit alarmed if he had.
Possibly suspected alien possession resulting in total personality change.
I didn’t get the impression he was overjoyed about the whole thing, but he didn’t act like it was the end of the world either.
Mum was quiet too, but she didn’t say anything negative.
Probably the best I could’ve expected in the circumstances. Like I told Alex, he’s worth it.
Alex took care of telling our tennis coach Malachi.
I’d had enough coming out for a while. According to Alex, Malachi’s expression didn’t change.
I guess it takes more than two arch enemy players falling in love to faze him.
Then he asked if we’d ever want to play on the same team, which we’d never done before on account of the death risk if we lost our tempers with each other.
We agreed. So, here we are ready for a tennis match at another club.
It’s the first time Alex has played for the club team since he hurt his ankle.
“Okay, so we need to target that one’s backhand,” I say, pointing to the taller of the other team. “He has none. I noticed in the warm-up.”
Alex smirks. “No backhand guy. I know the type. Got it.”
“And the other guy can’t volley to save his life.” I point to the dark-haired one.
“Uh-huh,” Alex says, continuing to stretch.
“Are you listening to me?” I demand.
“Yeah.” He looks me up and down with a hint of disdain. “But you’re being very bossy. And not in a hot way. Just in an annoying way.”
“There has to be a team leader,” I say.
“Does there?”
“Doesn’t there?” That never occurred to me before.
“Well, why do you get to be in charge?” Alex says. “Let’s play rock paper scissors for it.”
I can’t think of a good reason why not.
“Fine,” I grumble.
Of course, Alex wins with scissors.
“Best two out of three,” I suggest.
He wins the next one, too. Typical. I scowl, and he slaps me on the ass.
“Cheer up, second-in-command,” he says sweetly.
Maybe I was wrong in thinking he’d be less annoying to play with now we’re together. Shaking my head, I walk to the net for the toss. Alex follows, laughing to himself. We win the toss at least, and choose to serve.
“I’ll serve first,” Alex says, but there’s a question in his voice. Even though he’s team captain, he isn’t insisting. My irritation dies away.
“Go for it,” I say.
We both know he’s the better server, and it’s good to get an advantage early.
Sure enough, he wins his first service game easily even though he isn’t totally warmed up.
It’s nice to be on the same side as that merciless serve, for once, instead of facing it.
I get a feeling of possessive pride as he comes over to me with a shy smile after winning the game.
My boyfriend, my brain whispers happily.
But the other team’s scowls are visible from across the net.
Looks like they didn’t expect that kind of power and accuracy from someone like Alex, who’s gone for the full glam rock look today.
As we switch places at the net at the end of the first game, one of them leans close.
“You’re wearing more makeup than my wife,” he growls at Alex.
I see red and before I know it I’m lunging at him. Alex grabs me and just hauls me back in time, looking alarmed. The asshole on the other team smirks at my reaction. Alex drags me all the way to the baseline at our side of the net and puts his hands on my shoulders to calm me down.
“Dane, what the fuck?” he hisses. “This isn’t a contact sport. You’re going to make us forfeit the game.”
“I can’t let him talk to you like that.” White-hot rages surges through me, almost frightening me. I can’t seem to unclench my fists.
Alex faces softens. “Dane, relax. Please. You think I’ve never heard that crap before. And worse?”
He glances contemptuously across the net, where the other team is watching us closely to see how we’re reacting.
Alex’s left hand, the one without the racket, is shaking a little.
He isn’t as unbothered as he’s acting. It kills me to see him hurt.
But he’s a badass. In control enough to worry about calming me down even though he was the one who was insulted.
He’s so much better at handling this than I ever would be.
I guess he’s had a lot more practice than me.
He hasn’t spent his life hiding and sneaking around to placate idiots like the men across the net.
“They did that on purpose,” he says. “To get in our heads. They’re scared they can’t beat us in a fair fight.”
I take a few deep breaths as I realize he’s right.
I’m falling for the oldest trick in the book.
Losing your temper won’t help you win tennis matches.
It’s not that kind of sport. You tighten up and your technique goes to shit and you overhit and send everything into the net or wide. And the other team knows that.
“You’re right,” I say to Alex. “Sorry.”
“Never apologize for defending me,” he says, meeting my eyes fiercely. “Just… channel that anger.” He waves his hand with its icy-blue painted nails in a vague way.
“Yes, Captain,” I say.
He gives me the sweetest smile and I’m right back in that giddy new boyfriend zone.
I can’t believe that after all this time and all our years of ignoring each other, Alex is actually mine.
The other team’s behavior is a reminder that not everyone is going to be as cool with us as Alex’s mum and even my family.
Even so, living without him doesn’t seem like the easy path anymore.
He glances across at the opposing team with a determined frown on his pretty lips.
It hits me like a freight train just how much I need him.
Not having him in my life would be torture.
“Want to try something daring?” I whisper.
His dark eyes flash at me. “Always.”
I cup his chin in my hand, preparing for a kiss, and wait to see if he’s onboard.
His smile grows. He stands on tiptoe and plunges in, full tongue and everything, winding his arms around my neck, his tennis racket almost hitting me in his enthusiasm.
Fuck the guys at the other side of the court: I take my time, enjoying the kiss like Alex and I are alone.
Like I should’ve done seven years ago under the mistletoe.
When we finally pull apart, the other team are staring at us like they’re seeing things. Alex giggles.
“I think we shocked them,” he says.
“Good.”
They’re still staring at us, but they don’t say a word, looking totally flabbergasted. I ignore them; there’s something I need to say to Alex. It might be too soon, but we’ve wasted enough time apart. I screw up my courage.
“I love you, Alex,” I whisper. “I always have.”
His eyes widen with surprise. But he doesn’t hesitate.
“I love you too,” he says.
His brown eyes get so soft as he stares up at me.
He gives an adorable little nod, squaring his shoulders and gripping his racket tighter, and I know he’s trying to hold back tears.
He starts to stride over to his playing position, doing a decent job of looking normal to the other team.
But I know him too well. His suppressed joy radiates over the whole court.
“Are you ready to play?” our dark-haired opponent says, looking grouchy and uncomfortable.
“Ready,” Alex yells happily.
He turns to me and winks. And I already know that we’re going to win this match. I’m not usually one to decide that after the very first game; anything can happen on the tennis court. But right now, after we’ve just declared love? Alex and I can’t lose. Together, we’re unstoppable.
THE END
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