Elena raised a finger, eyes glinting. “Well… not entirely true. There was that one rumor back. A couple of years ago, Alex was pretty much inseparable from a French triathlete, Cassandra Dubois. Gorgeous, ridiculously fit, you couldn’t miss her. She was the youngest French Olympian. Everyone in the French Sports world knew her.”
Marta’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait, really? Alex and a triathlete? I didn’t even know she liked girls.”
Elena said with a little shrug. “It never went public, not in the press anyway. But inside the athlete circle? The whispers were everywhere. Cassandra was getting floodedwith attention, people sliding into her DMs left and right, but she barely looked at anyone. She was glued to Alex. So, who knows? Maybe Alex is just really good at keeping that side of her life private.”
Marta smirked, leaning forward. “And now… It’s Olivia who’s two steps away in all the pictures.”
Elena grinned slyly, eyes flicking to me. “Exactly. Which is why I’m not buying the ‘photographers desperate for headlines’ excuse. Not when the smile looks that real.”
I laughed nervously, tugging at my water bottle.
Marta tilted her head, curiosity flashing. “But wait, are they still… You know, together?”
Elena gave a knowing little shake of her head. “Given the fact that they suddenly weren’t seen together anymore, and then Alex switched fully to tennis? It doesn’t take much to put two and two together. The talk was that things ended between them, and that’s when Alex left triathlon for good.”
Marta let out a low whistle. “Damn. That’s… intense.”
I shifted in my seat, trying not to picture Alex with some beautiful French Olympian. The thought twisted something sharp in my chest, and I quickly looked down at my bottle cap, pretending to fidget with it.
Elena, of course, noticed. She leaned in with a grin that was all mischief. “Ooooh, look at Olivia pretending she doesn’t care. Relax, Liv, if it’s over, that means you’ve got a chance.”
“Exactly,” Marta chimed in. “I mean, come on. Alexandra Wilson-Cadiz? Hot, talented, and that face card?”
She nudges me. “And judging by the way she smiles only when you’re around… well, maybe you’re the upgrade.”
I could feel the blush blooming before I even had the dignity to stop it. I cleared my throat, eyes darting anywhere but Marta and Elena’s knowing stare. “Right. Okay. We’re not doing this,” I muttered, more to the pavement than to them.
“Anyway. Enough about me.” I waved a hand as if I could swat the entire topic out of existence. “What’s the latest on the girls’ matches? Any drama with doubles partners or crazy rallies?” I asked, practically shoving the conversation in a different direction.
But the heat in my cheeks refused to go anywhere.
Elena and Marta traded stories as we packed up, wild tie-breakers, unexpected upsets, someone smashing a racquet so hard the strings snapped mid-point. Their laughter filled the air, the kind that made training aches blur into the background.
Eventually, we gathered our things, the evening creeping in around the training complex. We said our goodnights with quick hugs and waves before splitting off toward our hotels.
By the time I slipped my keycard into my room door, I kicked off my trainers, let myself fall onto the bed, and stared at the ceiling. My muscles ached pleasantly from the day, my chest still light from all the laughter. For a brief moment, it felt like the noise of the tour had quieted down just enough for me to breathe.
And then inevitably my thoughts drifted to Alex.
It was absurd, really, how my mind kept circling back to her, how a single smile, a single glance, could still tug at something in me I couldn’t quite name.
I’d dated before. I’d cared before. My ex had been good to me, steady even… but it had never beenthis. Not the way my pulse behaved around Alex. Not the way her voicethreaded itself into my thoughts long after she was gone. Not the way a single memory of her could tilt an entire evening.
For a brief moment, in this quiet pocket of the tour, it felt like the world had stilled just enough for me to finally admit it. Whatever this was with Alex… it wasn’t something I’d felt for anyone else. Not even close.
•••••
The next morning, I was already on court with Coach Dani, working through a baseline drill. My wrist was taped for extra support, and sweat was already stinging my eyes.
“Feet quicker, Liv,” Dani called out, tossing another ball into my strike zone. “And keep that follow-through snappy.”
I obeyed, but my mind kept drifting. I couldn’t even pinpointwhatwas distracting me, until Dani suddenly blew her whistle and walked over.
“You’re somewhere else today,” she said flatly.
I frowned, panting. “No, I’m fine. Just a little sluggish from breakfast.”
She raised a brow. “Really?” Then she pulled her phone from her pocket, tapped the screen a few times, and held it out to me.
