Leaning back in my chair, I tapped the headline. Below it, a photo of Alex mid-hitting session. Alex in black shorts and a dry-fit shirt, her expression unreadable as ever.
I scrolled down.
Another shot: Alex adjusting her cap. And another. Alex tossing a ball into the air. She looked loose. Comfortable.
There were five, six… seven photos in total. Most were taken from a distance, but close enough to catch the intense energy. I smiled, just seeing her looking so intense made me smile.
Maddie raised an eyebrow. “Okay…” She paused, then added with a teasing glance, “Now Ireallywant to know what happened in Brisbane.”
I gave a noncommittal shrug, keeping my eyes on the screen. “I just… cleared my head a bit, I guess.”
“Cleared your head?” she echoed. “That sounds suspiciously like‘I had a good time, and now I’m seeing in widescreen.’”
I laughed under my breath. “It wasn’t that dramatic.”
Maddie sat up a little straighter, her interest piqued. “So something did happen?”
I hesitated. “It was just… good timing, really. I got to Brisbane early, and she happened to be there too. Probably training. We crossed paths a few times. Exchanged some friendly conversation. Maybe a bit of banter.”
Maddie let out a small gasp. “Wait. Are you friends with Alex now?”
I gave a soft laugh. “You’re jumping ten steps ahead.”
She nudged my knee with her foot. “Am I?”
I sighed, shifting slightly in my seat. “It’s not like that. I just… realized she’s not who the media paints her to be. She’s not cold or unapproachable. She’s—” I hesitated.
“She’s actually kind. Funny, even. It felt... nice, getting to know that side of her.”
Maddie tilted her head, watching me carefully.
“That’s all. Nothing else happened.” I added quickly.
She raised a brow. “If you say so.” Her tone was light, but there was clear skepticism in her eyes. Still, she didn’t push it. She just smiled, stood up, and stretched. “Anyway, I’m grabbing coffee downstairs. Want anything?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
“Suit yourself,” she said, giving me one last look before heading out the door.
The room fell quiet. I stared at my laptop screen for a moment, then opened a new tab. My fingers hovered for a second before typing:Alex Cadiz press conference return to Ohio.
I hit search because maybe I just wanted to see how she was doing. That was all.
CHAPTER 12
ALEXANDRA
The Montreal tournament wrapped up two days ago, and Olivia fell short of the title, losing in a tough three-set semifinal match.
She probably landed here in Cincinnati yesterday, sliding straight back into prep mode for her run here. That’s how she operates: finishes one fight, boards a plane, already sharpening her focus for the next.
Meanwhile, I'm over here trying not to obsess over how effortlessly Olivia pulls off competing at that level and still looking composed under pressure. Seriously, how does she make tennis look like a casual Sunday stroll?
The door to my hotel room creaked open, and Archie stepped inside, his usual easy smile in place.
“Hey, Arch,” I teased, “how’s the leg after diving for that impossible shot?”
He laughed, dropping his bag by the door before plopping down on the edge of my bed. “Still sore, but worth it.”
