Nineteen #2
He shrugged, letting go of my hands. “It makes some things easier, some things harder. Although, I think I got too used to the freedom. It might be best if we default to your hotel room. They don’t spy on me exactly, but everything I do tends to get back to my parents.
Tina does her best, although there’s only so much she can do when half of them see her as an annoyance to be humoured. ”
“Wait what?” Still astride him, I sat back to better see his expression. “Why do you put up with that?”
Another shrug. “I didn’t hire them. A team’s job is to make your game better not be your friends.” One of those things he said sometimes, the words flat like he was repeating them rote.
“Sure, but those things don’t have to be mutually exclusive.”
He rolled his head away, the mood turning like a tide.
He’d never been forthcoming about his team, just as he avoided most conversation about his family, and I should have known better.
Should have stayed within the bounds of my role as friendly fuckbuddy.
Fear of losing him, of losing this, clamped tight.
“Hey, so I have a question,” I said, to right the ship.
There was a hint of wariness in his gaze as he rolled his head back to look up at me. “Go ahead.”
“Why do you never use capital letters when you message me?”
“That’s it? That’s the question?”
“Yes! It’s been bothering me for weeks. Isn’t it annoying when your phone autocorrects?”
His lips twitched, mocking amusement lighting his eyes. Relief flooded in. “You know you can just turn auto-capitalisation off, yeah?” he said. “So, no, not annoying. And I started so people would know it’s actually me, since Tina is always logged into my social profiles too. Now it’s just habit.”
“Oh. That makes sense now you say it.”
“Why did you think I did it?”
“I don’t know!” I cried, throwing up my hands. “You could have been doing some fucking Derridean deconstruction of grammar for all I know.”
Miles blinked, confusion knotting between his brows. “Could have been what?”
“Oh, so you can math big numbers on the spot but French philosophy is out of your wheelhouse?”
“How are you like this, Russo?” he demanded, laughing. “Unpredictable doesn’t even begin to cover it.” He jabbed me in the ribs again and soon we were grappling and teasing our way toward something hotter and all was right again with the world.
Awhile later we lay together sated a second time, his bedcovers far less tidy, pillows strewn. A slow, hard fuck had been everything we needed, leaving my brain feeling like melted jelly.
Until a knock sounded on the door.
“Ah, shit,” Miles hissed, glancing toward his phone.
“I guess that’s my two hours.” He looked from me to the door and back, and grimaced.
“Look . . . I would really rather this not be the way you meet Tina actually, so I’m going to be fucking cringe and ask you to stay out of sight.
Once I’m gone, just wait a couple of minutes then let yourself out, yeah? Sorry.”
“Don’t be, it’s fine,” I said with a laugh. “I also don’t want to meet her in this state.”
“You say that like you’re not heart-stoppingly gorgeous right now.” He brushed his thumb over my cheek. “I would stay just to look at you, but my sister does not take no for an answer, so . . .”
As though to prove his point, Tina knocked again. “Come on, Miles!” came her muffled voice from outside. “We’re going to be late!”
“Do you want me dressed or not?” Miles called back, and finally rolled off the bed to do something about his lack of clothing.
I followed his lead, heading to the bathroom to clean up.
“Hey,” he said as he unzipped one of his suitcases. “You’re not playing tomorrow and I don’t play until late, so why don’t you meet us for breakfast? I’ll have Tina find a nice place.”
“Oh, all right, yeah.” I paused in the bathroom door to watch him hastily drag on shorts. “I mean, only if you’re sure.”
“Very sure. My choices aren’t your problem. I promised, remember? We’re friends, so let’s be friends.”
“Miles!” Tina growled. “What are you doing?”
He grinned as he pulled on a shirt. “I’d better go,” he said, and came to drop a light kiss on my lips. “See you tomorrow.”
Miles walked away on the words, leaving me stunned as much by his always so easy affection as by his reiteration of the promise he’d made me weeks before. So stunned, I only remembered to duck out of sight just before he pulled open the door.
“Here, see? Almost ready,” he said as I leaned against the bathroom wall. “Just let me grab my phone.”
“Miles, do you have someone here?” Tina hissed, her voice too close for comfort while I had nothing on. Almost I grabbed a towel, but I didn’t dare make a sound, my grin already barely containing a laugh.
A laugh that became almost impossible to hold in when Miles said with perfect innocence. “I would never.”
“You are a terrible liar,” she said, and the door closed, the rest of her words becoming a muffled murmur hastily retreating along the corridor.
Left alone in Miles’s hotel room, I cleaned myself up and pulled on my clothes.
Tomas had messaged with a practice time and I wrote back saying I would meet him there, and then because Miles had asked me to wait before making my escape, I looked around.
There was something oddly intimate with being trusted alone in his private space.
It was just a hotel room, but like with his terrible London apartment, the way Miles inhabited space was uniquely him.
Without a second bedroom where he could store his luggage, he’d lined his suitcases and bags neatly along one wall, none left open or spilling any contents, everything about the room perfectly tidy.
Except for a brand-new e-reader sitting on the arm of the couch.
I opened it, took one look at the book he was reading, and closed it with a smile.
He’d helped fix my game, and I’d gotten him hooked on gay romances.
Seemed fair, I thought, and headed out to find the practice courts.
Mum
Happy Birthday, love!
Dad
Hey, happy birthday, kiddo. Call if you’re free.
Katie Zhang
HAPPY BIRTHDAY! EAT CAKE FOR ME!
MILES AND TINA were already waiting when I arrived, Miles in one of his short-sleeved linen shirts, Tina in a flowing sundress and enormous sunglasses like she was somehow going to find a beach in northern DC. At the sight of me, Miles’s smile broadened and he got to his feet.
“Morning,” he said, greeting me with the ever bro-y hand clasp and shoulder bump. “Allow me to properly introduce my sister Tina, in the flesh. Tina—Mat.”
“Lovely to meet you, Matteo.” She held out one manicured hand, her smile almost as wide and easy as her brother’s. “Although something tells me I almost ran into you yesterday.”
“Oh? Not sure why you’d think so,” I said, wholly innocent.
As I shook her hand, she shook her head. “You’re an even worse liar than Miles.”
I took the seat opposite them at the rustic outdoor table, and as I pulled in my chair, a small group wearing tournament press passes emerged from the café cradling takeaway coffee cups. They gathered in a knot on the footpath and stood chatting.
“Should we head inside?” Tina asked, not so obvious as to glance at them.
“No,” Miles said, leaning back in his chair. “The sun is nice. Besides, Mat has been freezing his ass off for two weeks and needs to thaw out.”
“It’s true,” I agreed, grateful that he’d stepped in. “Melbourne winters are brutal.”
Tina tilted her head in a very Miles-attempting-to-decode-me way. “Do you get snow?”
“Never, thank god. I’m not made for that.”
She leaned her elbows on the table and, resting her chin on her palm, lifted her sunglasses to better examine me.
In photos, Tina Callahan shared no great likeness with her brother beyond good looks and blonde hair, but in person there was a much greater resemblance.
It was in her expressions, in the way she regarded me with her dark, steady gaze, in the way her brows twitched, and in the slow spread of a slightly wicked smile.
She leaned Miles’s way, murmuring something I couldn’t hear.
“Yeah, so I’m shallow, move on,” he said, flicking an appreciative grin at me.
My cheeks heated – not a common sensation but one that had happened far more often in the past few weeks than I liked. Tina laughed, dropping her sunglasses back into place and gesturing for a passing waitress. “We had better order, or you’ll have to rush your match prep.”
“I’m not playing until the afternoon, Tee,” Miles pointed out as the waitress approached.
“Yes, but Leo wants you there by eleven and you have press commitments at ten-thirty.”
Miles glanced at his phone and groaned. “Right, fine.”
We ordered, and I had to remind myself that it was all right to spend the money, that I could afford even the café’s most expensive meal many times over – the feeling both frightening and exhilarating.
“So, you have a coach travelling with you now, I hear,” Tina said once the waitress had left us to bask in the sun and await our food. “I hope that means you won’t be challenging Miles to do without his team again.”
“Ah, no,” I said. “Although, I didn’t really expect him to do it the first time.”
Something of a grim look tightened Miles’s jaw as he said, “Mat has a new coach and a physio now,” as though to turn the conversation away from himself. “What will be next?”
“What you need is someone to manage your image,” Tina said, gesturing at me with her coffee cup. “To manage the business of you.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because you have a growing fan base, Matteo, and you aren’t making the most of it.”
“Would it improve my game if I did?”