“Yeah, I get that. It really depends on which court you’re playing on, whether it’s fast or slow. Totally unfair.” I leaned back, trying to sound casual even though my brain was busy cataloging every little detail about her.
A quiet laugh escaped her. “Exactly.”
“You know what’s weird? With all the tournaments, all the training blocks, all the near-misses… we’ve never actually played each other. Not once.”
Her brows lifted, a slow, thoughtful rise. “Huh. You’re right.” She leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing in that amused, analytical way she got when she was working something out. “Guess we’ve just been orbiting around each other on opposite sides of every draw.”
“Or,” I said, letting a teasing edge slip into my voice, “maybe the universe is just terrified to find out who’d actually win.”
I caught the faintest grin playing, like she was entertaining a thought she wasn’t quite ready to share. A tiny curl at the corner of her lips, barely there, but impossible for me to unsee.
“You look like you’re plotting a crime,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “A very elegant, well-planned crime.”
Her grin widened, eyes catching the light in a way that made my pulse stutter. “Not a crime…” she said, voice dipping into something playful. “More like a wager.”
I raised a brow, trying to keep the sudden rush of adrenaline off my face. “A wager?”
She leaned in just a hair, not enough to close the distance, just enough to make the world feel smaller. “What if,” she murmured, low and conspiratorial, “we both get through our quarterfinals… and finally face each other?”
My breath hitched, but I held her gaze. “And what?”
Her smile curved, slow and wicked. “Winner gets to pick something the loser has to do.”
A challenge from the girl I’ve been half in love with since childhood. Totally normal, right?
I let out a laugh, shaking my head. “Dangerous territory, Smythe. You don’t strike me as the type to go easy on someone.”
“Why would I?” she shot back, grinning. “Where’s the fun in that?”
I shuffled a chuckle, shaking my head. “Yeah, no,” I said. “I don’t do wagers.”
She raised an eyebrow, completely unfazed. “Come on, it’s motivation. Besides, you’re getting back into rhythm, and this could be the perfect spark. Who knows?” She tilted her head, a teasing challenge in her eyes. “Maybe you’ll even make it to the finals.”
I gave her a cool smile, the kind I used to hide how violently my heart was reacting. “Friendly, huh? And why exactly should I take orders from you?”
She lifted one shoulder in an easy shrug, though the spark in her eyes didn’t fade for a second. “Because a little competition never hurt anyone. And let’s be honest… It’s a lot more fun when something’s on the line.”
The silence stretched for a beat before I let a slow, traitorous smile slip through my usual armor. “Alright, fine. You’ve got yourself a deal.”
Her grin lit up so brightly it felt like someone had flicked on a spotlight. “Good,” she said. “Because if I win, you have to smile more often. Press conferences, walk-ons, matches, and everything. And not the broody smirk. A real smile. Full, genuine, teeth-showing smile.”
I turned my head toward her, eyebrows shooting up before I could stop them. “Wow. Okay, that’s a steep price. I might need to reconsider this whole agreement.”
“Too late. You already said yes. You’re locked in.”
I let out an exaggerated sigh, dropping my gaze to the display screen as if it could save me. How was I supposed to resist her when she looked at me like that? Like she’d figured me out years ago and was just waiting for me to catch up?
I nudged the resistance up a level, pretending it was the workout making my breath hitch. “Alright, fine. But don’t expect me to go easy on smiling. I have my limits, you know.”
“Limits are for people who don’t like challenges,” she shot back, barely missing a pedal rhythm. “And lucky for me, you love a good challenge… even if you’ll never admit it.”
I huffed out a laugh, shaking my head. “Alright, alright. Fine. You win. I’ll play along.”
Her eyes sparkled like she’d just won something far bigger than a bet. “Good. Then tell me, what are your conditions?”
Of course, she’d ask that. And of course, that’s exactly when my brain decided to short-circuit. Normally, I’d have a sharp retort locked and loaded, but with my heart racing and her watching me out of the corner of her eye, thinking straight felt impossible.
I muttered, “Okay… if I win, you have to treat me to lunch. Anywhere I pick.”
