But then I noticed some gymnast from her team practically glued to her side, arm brushing hers. Clinging on like a leech. Of course. Alex never walked into a room without someone orbiting her.
Still, my chest tugged. Because even from a distance, even with fireworks exploding above us, she was still the only person I couldn’t look away from.
And when the night ended, I told myself it was just the magic of the opening ceremony, the kind of spell the Games cast on everyone. But the truth followed me into morning.
I drifted into the Village to eat with Team GB. The cafeteria was massive with every language you could imagine, and yet my eyes always betrayed me.
She was everywhere, loud at the Filipino table, athletes clinging to her again like she was their national crush, laughing like the Olympics was just another summer holiday. It looked less like high performance and more likeLove Island.My blood simmered, though I’d never admit it.
And if it could get worse? One afternoon I spotted her chatting with Cassandra and her dad, all easy warmth and inside jokes, like they were already family.
But then I remembered I wasn’t innocent in this either. Because I wasn’t alone.
Nico had become my shadow. The Team GB football squad was also staying in the Village, so Nico and I usually hung out during our free time. Cafeteria meals, downtime, he was always there, cracking jokes, keeping me sane. He was familiar in a way nothing else here was. And I didn’t think twice about sitting with him until I noticed Alex’s gaze across the room.
If looks could kill, Nico would’ve been buried already.
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, but Nico just smirked, leaning closer. “She’s going to strangle me one of these days if you don’t explain I’m not competition.”
“What?”
“Liv, the way she stares, it’s homicidal. I’m terrified.” He grinned wider, voice dropping. “One of these days, I’m going to tell her I’m gay before she actually kills me.”
And through it all, Alex kept trying. Not in grand speeches or dramatic apologies, but in the kind of small, relentless ways you couldn’t ignore once you started noticing them. She did it in gestures, tiny landmines planted in my day, designed to catch me off guard.
Day 1. I opened my kit bag and found a bar of Cadbury Dairy Milk tucked inside, a Post-it slapped across it:“Fuel up, champ. -A.”One of the girls from doubles wandered past, grinning like she knew a secret. “Someone asked me to slip that in for you,” she said, and I didn’t have to look far to figure out who.
Day 2. Rain hammered down between sessions, and she dropped her jacket over my shoulders before sprintingoff like she hadn’t just played knight in shining armor. Later that evening, after a brutal training block, I came off court ready to collapse. A smoothie, my favorite blend, was waiting on my bench. My physio swore one of the other players had left it for me, but the sheepish grin on their face told me all I needed to know. Alex had bribed them. Of course she had.
Day 3. Match day. She went full rom-com. A banner, painted in clumsy red and blue, with a crooked attempt at the GB flag in the corner. It screamed:
The word“my”had been messily scribbled out and replaced very obviously in a different marker with“everyone’s.”She held it high in the stands, grinning like she’d already won gold. The crowd clapped, even cheered. Ridiculous.
And if that wasn’t enough, when I walked into the dining hall that night, one of the tables, dead center had a plate waiting with my name written on the napkin. Not flowers, not chocolates. Pancakes, Milk and Cookies. My favorite, stacked high, drowned in maple syrup, smuggled from God-knows-where because it wasn’t even on the menu.
I wanted to roll my eyes, toss the napkin in the bin. Instead, I ate every bite and I kept the napkin.
It was absurd. Over-the-top. And God help me… it was working. And I hated how much I wanted her to.
One afternoon, I was in the cafeteria with Georgia, both of us poking at pasta more out of habit than hunger.
“So,” she said casually, twirling her fork, “since my brother and your sister are engaged, that makes us in-laws now.”
I snorted into my water. “That’s a terrifying way to put it.”
“No, it’s brilliant.” Her grin widened, all mischief. “Think about it, Christmas dinners, family parties. You bring the sarcasm, I’ll bring dessert. We’re basically stuck with each other.”
I groaned, shaking my head, but there was a warmth in it.
That’s when Cassandra appeared, hovering just behind Georgia’s chair. She didn’t look like the no-nonsense tactician I’d gotten used to, but almost… hesitant.
“Olivia,” she said, voice steady but softer than usual.
Georgia read the tension immediately. She gave me a quick squeeze on the arm and murmured, “I’ll let you two talk,” before slipping away.
Cassandra slid into her seat. For a moment she just studied me, then sighed. “Look, I know I’m probably the last person you want a heart-to-heart with. Alex doesn’t know I’m doing this. She’d probably kill me if she did. But you need to hear it. She really, really loves you. Messy, reckless, sometimes exasperating, but it’s real.”
I arched a brow, arms crossing. “She’s got a funny way of proving it.”
