She didn’t flinch. She just nodded slowly, like she was piecing it together. “Focused to a fault. Brutally honest, but at least she didn’t string you along.”
“Yeah.” My voice cracked around the edges, and I quickly covered it with a laugh. “Guess I’m just the bench cheerleader.”
She gave me a sideways look. “You’re Alexandra freaking Wilson-Cadiz. If she needs space, give it. If it’s meant to circle back, it will.”
I blew out a breath, still not sure if that comforted or stung.
Then she smirked again, this time softer. “And hey… you should be relieved. My crush on you was way worse.”
My head snapped around. “What?”
She laughed at my face, loud and unapologetic. “Relax. Ages ago. Back when we were juniors, training everyday together, long hours on the bike. You were oblivious, of course. I got over it. Obviously.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” I nearly tripped over my own cooling-down shuffle. “You had a crush on me and just… what? Kept it in a vault? Why didn’t you say anything?”
She gave me a look like I’d asked why water was wet. “Because we were sixteen and already juggling tennis and triathlon like your life depended on it. You couldn’t even remember to eat lunch half the time, Alex. You think I was going to throwfeelingsat you on top of all that?”
My jaw dropped. “Okay, rude but fair. Still, why not later? You hadyears.”
“Because,” she said matter-of-factly, “I liked our friendship more than I liked the idea of you running for the hills the second I said something. Plus, you would’ve made itweird. Admit it.”
I opened my mouth, closed it again, then groaned. “...Yeah, I probably would’ve made it weird.”
She smirked, victorious. “Exactly. And look, here we are, still laughing instead of avoiding eye contact at every training camp. So I’d say I made the right call.”
I stared at her, part horrified, part impressed. “You know… I had this tiny, liketinycrush on you too back when we were teenagers.”
She stopped walking, blinked at me. “You’re joking.”
“I’mnot!” I said, half-defensive, half-laughing myself. “But then you were constantly swarmed by every triathlon guy at races, like half the men’s field practically lined up to carry your bike for you. I didn’t stand a chance. So, yeah. Got over it.”
She threw her head back, laughing even harder. “Oh my God, Alex. You’re telling me we were just two oblivious idiots crushing on each other and missing the timing completely?”
“Pretty much,” I said, shaking my head. “But honestly, I think I knew, even back then, that we were better as friends. You deserved better than some awkward teenage version of me tripping over my words. And you deservesomeone better than me who wouldn’t leave you hanging. I was such a douche.”
Her expression softened, her laugh fading into something gentler. “That’s what I’ve always liked about you. You never think highly of yourself the way I think of you.”
She continued. “Honestly, you’ll always have this part of my heart that’s just… yours. But I’m also glad we never forced it into something it wasn’t meant to be. Because what we have now, it means everything to me.”
I met her eyes, letting the quiet truth sit between us. “I’m glad we found our way back to this.” I gestured lightly between us. “Not the pressure, not the expectations… just us. Friends again. I missed that more than I realized.”
For a moment, she looked at me the way she used to, open, a little vulnerable.
And then, like clockwork, Dad’s voice cut across the track. “Alright! Enough gossiping. Let’s get inside and spin those legs before you both stiffen up!”
“Stationary bikes,” Cassandra sighed dramatically. “My favorite form of torture.”
I grinned, instantly perking up. “Finally, something I can actually look forward to. And you seriously need to up your bike form. Half the time you ride like you’re pedaling a beach cruiser on holiday.”
Cassandra rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. Run done, heart-to-hearts covered, now it was time to do what we did best: sweat it out. Together.
OLIVIA
The sound of the ball cracking off my strings echoed sharp across the court. Another serve, another target bottle sent spinning violently off its mark. I lined up again, tossed the ball sky-high, and snapped through with everything I had. The poor bottle on the service line barely had time to exist before it went flying.
“Olivia,” Coach Dani’s voice cut in, low but firm. “Stop serving like the ball owes you money.”
I dropped my racquet to my side, chest rising and falling. “I’m just… working on power,” I muttered, already bouncing another ball.
