Her eyes flicked to mine, surprised. Then she let out a soft laugh, but it cracked just enough to betray something deeper. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”
“Not always. Just… when it’s you.”
That stilled her, her breath catching ever so slightly. I caught the faint hitch in her chest, the way her eyeslingered on mine, and for a heartbeat, it felt like neither of us could look away. My mind went a little haywire, which I’d never admit out loud.Don’t. Stare. Don’t make it obvious.
My eyes flicked down and I noticed a faint scrape on her knee, the skin raw and fresh.
I pointed. “Hey, what happened there?”
She followed my gaze, brushing it off with a small shrug. “Ah. Caught it during drills. My foot slipped on the baseline, nothing major.”
“Nothing major?” I frowned, shaking my head. “You know you don’t have to fight the surface every single time, right?”
Her lips quirked at the corner. “Sounds like someone’s been watching too much tape of me.”
I smirked, leaning in just enough for her to feel it. “Maybe I have.”
I pushed myself up, dripping onto the tiles, and grabbed my bag from the bench. “You forget who you’re talking to. I travel with my first aid kit like it’s my religion.”
She watched me, somewhere between amused and flustered, as I crouched in front of her with the waterproof band-aid and antiseptic wipes. I tilted my head at her. “Mind if I?”
For a heartbeat, she hesitated. Then, quietly, “Go on.”
I touched her knee gently, holding her steady as I cleaned the scrape. My fingertips grazed her skin just enough to make my chest tighten, that small contact sending a ripple through me I wasn’t ready to name. She shifted slightly under my hand, subtle but deliberate, but she tried to play it off, murmuring, “You do this often?”
“Only for people I like,” I said before I could stop myself.
Her eyes flicked up to mine at that, sharp and searching, as though she wasn’t sure if I meant it as a joke. I smoothed the band-aid over her skin, deliberately slow, then leaned back just enough to give her space.
“There,” I said, forcing a grin to cover the thundering in my chest. “Good as new. You’re officially cleared to terrorize tennis courts again.”
She huffed a laugh, but her gaze lingered on me, soft and unreadable. “Okay… thanks, doctor.”
I sat back on the bench beside her, towel still wrapped around me, our shoulders brushing. “Hey, I take my job as your unofficial medic very seriously.”
For a beat, it was quiet, the kind of quiet that felt heavy but alive. Then Olivia turned her head toward me, her voice low. “What are you doing, Alex?”
“What?”
Her lips pressed together, as though weighing whether to keep going. Then, with a breath, she let it spill. “You’ve been… nothing but good to me. Gentle, even when you tease. Caring in ways you don’t show anyone else. You let me see this side of you, the real one, that you don’t give to the world.” Her eyes softened, almost vulnerable. “Why?”
My chest tightened. The question hit deeper than she knew. I dropped my gaze to the damp towel clutched in my hands, then forced myself to look back at her.
“Because I knew you before all this,” I admitted, voice rough. “Before the headlines, before the noise. And I respect you, for who you are, not just for the tennis.”
The words felt too loud, but once they were out, there was no taking them back.
“Since the day you got me down from that tree. That stuck with me. And then I just… kept noticing you.”
Her eyebrows lifted, and heat rushed up my neck.
“What I mean is… you’ve always had this… thing about you. Like you don’t even know how much space you take up. And I guess I, I just want to know more of that. The stuff only a few people ever get to see. Because you make me want to... You make me want to risk it. Just for the chance to be close to you.”
For a moment, Olivia didn’t move. The only sound was the faint ripple of water against the tiles and the steady thud of my heart in my ears.
Then, slowly, the corners of her mouth curved, not quite a smile, not quite unreadable either. She tilted her head, studying me like she was trying to decide if I was serious or just hopelessly ridiculous.
“So you have a crush on me?”
