For a fraction of a second, I thought I saw a hint of color creep into her cheeks, quick and nothing worth mentioning.
Then she let out a laugh. “Lunch? That’s it? That’s your big demand?” She shot me a sideways grin. “You do realize you’re making this way too easy for me.”
I shot her a mock glare. “Hey, it’s a strategic move. Plus, it’s the perfect excuse to spend more time with you. I mean...well, you’re not so bad after all. You know, I haven’t really had friends here.”
Her grin widened, eyes brightening like she hadn’t expected me to say that out loud. “Oh, so that’s what this is about? You know, if you just wanted to be friends, you could’ve asked me. No need to make such a big deal out of it.”
I gave a half-smile, glancing away for a moment, feeling a faint warmth in my chest. “Yeah, well… it’s not like I’m great at making friends here. Or showing people I like them.”
She turned her head toward me, the teasing in her voice softening. “Good thing I like figuring people out. Even the stubborn, awkward ones.”
“You really think I’m that obvious?”
“Oh, completely,” she said, lips curving into a smirk. “But it’s endearing. Kind of makes me think I might actually figure you out before the next tournament.”
I shook my head, smiling despite myself. “Yeah, good luck with that.”
“Well, you’ve got a friend now. Whether you like it or not.” Her tone gentled again, and she let her knee brush mine as she adjusted her pace. “Besides… I want to see you smile more. It suits you.”
Something unguarded flickered through me. “This is temporary. Extremely temporary.”
Her smile didn’t falter. If anything, it deepened. “A bit late for that now, isn’t it?”
I let out a quiet breath. “You really don’t know when to stop, do you?”
“Why would I? People should see you smile more. You said yourself it’s exhausting having that ice-queen reputation on tour.”
I snorted, turning my face away for a second, even though the smile tugging at my mouth refused to vanish. “My smiles are actually reserved only for people I… want to get to know me,” I murmured.
She paused, just for a beat. “Oh?” she said, her voice dipping playful-soft. “So you’re saying I made the cut?”
I shot her a sideways look. “You’re dangerously close to losing your privileges.”
She grinned, leaning slightly closer on her bike, elbow brushing mine for half a second. “You basically admitted it.”
“I did not.”
“Alex,” she said, eyes sparkling, “you’re literally smiling at me right now.”
I opened my mouth to deny it, but she was right, my smile wasn’t going anywhere, and hers was only growing.
That’s when a voice broke through the moment. “Liv, you hiding in here?”
I turned to see her manager, the one I remembered from the champion’s dinner a few weeks ago. She's leaning in through the doorway with a knowing smirk forming as her gaze flicks between the two of us.
Olivia pushed away from the treadmill, grabbing her water bottle. “Not hiding, just trying to get the jetlag off my system.”
As she walked past me, I caught a whiff of her shampoo, fresh, slightly citrusy, and for a second, my brain stalled, trying to process the fact that someone could smell so… lively.
She slowed just enough to glance back over her shoulder at me, but it landed like a spark straight to my nerves. Her eyes met mine, and the corner of her mouth lifted, subtle but unmistakably for me.
And just like that, a part of me couldn’t stop replaying that small, effortless bubble we’d shared before the interruption.
•••••
That night, my room looked less like a hotel suite and more like a strategy bunker. Coach Kit had claimed the desk chair like it was his throne, leaning forward with a notepad in hand, while Max, my analyst, was sprawledacross the couch, tossing a tennis ball up and catching it like he was trying to hypnotize himself.
I sat cross-legged on the bed, notebook open, though most of it was filled with doodles and a few half-hearted reminders;breathe,don’t smash racquet if annoyed. The advice was standard tournament prep, but somehow hearing it from them made it feel like a pep talk with extra seasoning: keep my opponent from taking control, make her work for every point, and, of course, trust my weapons.
