Maddie let out a laugh. “Well, it was an honor, Your Majesty of Brooding Corners. If I don’t get lost again, I might see you back inside.”
She grinned, then slipped through the sliding doors, leaving me alone again. I stayed out there for a bit longer. I was just starting to settle into the quiet when I heard the soft shuffle of the sliding door again.
“If you’re looking for the restroom, it’s—” I started, glancing over my shoulder mid-sentence.
And froze.
Olivia Smythe stood in the doorway. She looked just as surprised to see me.
I cleared my throat first, shifting awkwardly. “Sorry,” I said, gesturing vaguely toward the hallway. “I thought you were just another person lost and looking for the restroom.”
She gave a soft laugh nervously. “I mean... I might be. Kind of. I was looking for my manager. She wandered off and wasn’t answering her phone.”
“Ah.” I nodded, stepping aside to give her more room. “She was just here, actually. Left maybe five minutes ago.”
She stepped out slowly, glancing around the balcony like she wasn’t sure if she should stay or not. “Of course she did,” she said under her breath, more amused than annoyed.
“She was lost too,” I added, trying for casual. “Told me she didn’t expect to run into me out here while looking for the restroom.”
That earned me a small, surprised smile. “Yeah, that sounds like her.”
There was a brief, awkward silence between us. Still, I managed to speak. “Congratulations... by the way.”
She glanced at me, eyebrows lifting just a little.
“Wimbledon,” I added. “That final was intense. You earned it.”
Something flickered across her face, surprise, maybe, or something softer. She smiled, and this time, it felt warmer. “Thank you. I saw the clip of you during the match,” she said, shifting to lean against the door. “You're always kind of hard to read, but it’s cool seeing you there. Makes the match feel bigger when players like you are watching.”
I glanced away, feeling heat creep up the back of my neck. Compliments always landed strangely with me.
“Yeah, well,” I said, clearing my throat, eyes flicking anywhere but hers, “Guess I’m not as unreadable as people think.” I forced a small smile, one that felt more honest than I wanted it to. “You played incredible tennis. Hard not to get caught up in it.”
For a second, neither of us said anything. The noise of the ballroom behind the glass faded to a hum, and all I could focus on was the way she looked at me, steady, curious, like she was trying to figure me out.
Her lips parted slightly, like she was about to say something.
Before she could get the words out, it hit me,her manager.The thought came like a jolt, breaking the spell.
“Oh, right, your manager,” I blurted, a little too fast, latching onto the distraction. “Just turn left at the end, it’s the second door past the staircase. Big gold plaque.”
“Thanks,” Olivia replied, offering a smile as she moved toward the sliding door.
She reached for the handle and tried to slide it open. Nothing.
She frowned and tugged again, harder this time. The muscles in her arm flexed under the soft fabric of her sleeve, and for a heartbeat, I forgot why I was standing like a weirdo.
“...Uh,” she murmured in a low and almost uncertain tone. “Is this thing jammed?”
Her words snapped me back to reality like someone had tapped the side of my brain and reminded me I was, in fact, a conscious human being.
“Shit.” I exhaled, running a hand through my hair as the realization hit. “Not again,” I said, half in disbelief, halfin that of course this would happen with her here kind of way.
“Again?” she asked, brows lifting, and suddenly it felt like the door wasn’t the only thing jammed; it was everything in me, caught between wanting to look away and not being able to.
“Yeah,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “Uh… last year. I snuck out here for air, like tonight, and it got stuck.” I winced. “A staff guy eventually came out carrying a tray of champagne and helped me wedge the door open with a dessert fork.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”
