It felt almost inappropriate, how her eyes couldn’t seem to pull themselves away from the soft curve of Reese’s hip, from the swell of her chest and how her cleavage just kissed together in the middle. Sydney knew how soft it would be to rest her head there, to nuzzle against the warmth and softness of Reese, who always seemed to smell so good.
They hadn’t talked much on the drive to the dress shop, so Sydney hadn’t mentioned that even with the club shampoo and conditioner, Reese had still smelled divine, like it was more than just what she wore, but rather a scent she produced that, to Sydney, was akin to ambrosia.
When Sydney finally met her stare, a flush dottedReese’s cheeks and chest. Had she noticed the way Sydney had been mapping her body, appreciating every swell and curve?
“Sydney’s right. You look beautiful,” Sharon chimed in, standing up to get a better view.
Sydney very much considered doing the same, but she wondered if her legs would betray her.
Brynn moved over toward Reese, looking the dress up and down. “Do you like it?”
“Of course she likes it,” Marcella said obstinately, fretting around Reese’s legs and checking the angles on the dress. “She looks gorgeous.”
There was no world in which Sydney—or any person with eyes—could disagree. The soft green of the dress complimented Reese’s fair skin tone, and her dark hair with its errant auburn and russet strands positively popped.
And for as good as this feeling was, like Sydney was a puppy dog who just wanted to throw herself into Reese and beg for attention and affection, it made her nervous, too.
Amping up their fake romance was throwing Sydney off, she decided. Coupled with her lack of physical contact with anyone in, oh, close to a year, and she was wound tighter than she would be during a finals match.
Relax, she coaxed herself, releasing a deep, calming breath.
She stood up then, straightening her legs on the exhale and moving around to where the rest of the group was still admiring Reese’s dress.
After Grant, she’d gone through what many would call a “post-breakup phase.” There had been a men’s player she knew peripherally on the tour, who’d looked like he’d won the lottery when they’d run into one another in Italy, late at night on the courts, and Sydney had made her intentions clear. There had been a woman she’d met in a bar in Prague after losing her third round match, who seemed to have zero interest in tennis but had talked nonstop about her love of old movies.
But they had been an escape, a chance to get out of her own head and use her body more than her brain.
She’d stopped going down that path because it hadn’t made her feel better after, the fact that she was using a warm body to quell the falling, floundering feeling that persisted whenever she’d stepped off the court.
So she’d stepped off the court less and less, throwing all of her focus and energy into training.
It had worked. Until it hadn’t.
And now here she was, with no tennis career and no love life, staring longingly at a woman she was playing pretend with, in a situation that madeRomeo and Julietfeel like a very straightforward love story.
“You really like it?” Reese asked, and Sydney already knew before looking up that the question was directed at her.
She could feel her own flush now. She could do nothing but answer honestly when their eyes met, Reese looking at her with genuine curiosity.
“You look incredible,” she said, appreciation bordering on reverence on full display in her tone.
She cleared her throat, her blush deepening. It was almost difficult to look at Reese, who was staring at her in this adorably innocent way, like she truly held Sydney’s opinion in the highest regard.
Unable to lean into the moment or run fleeing from it, she turned her attention to Brynn instead. “Thank you for not being one of those women who insists on putting their bridesmaids in hideous dresses so they don’t take away from theirspecial day.”
Brynn, to her credit, looked horrified. “People do that?”
What a sweet, simple woman. Sydney truly couldn’t understand how she’d wound up with someone like Grant, given it was becoming clear that her guileless demeanor wasn’t an act.
And though Sydney may not have moved through adulthood with a traditional set of female friends, she’d seen firsthand what women could be like, especiallyon the tour.
Psychological warfare was real.
Once her sponsorship attention had exceeded her skill level—a fact that she was honest enough with herself to admit—she’d basically been iced out of any chance at real friendships. Regardless of what her magazine interviews led people to believe, she wasn’t exactly popular with the other competitors.
It had made her all the more willing to fall back into the comfort of Grant, to focus on doing what she could on the courts, knowing that her future after her career ended was already secured.
But it had been lonely, and she’d missed having a friend like Hallie in close proximity every single day.
