Inés:I could withhold sex.
Chloe:You would have to resist me first.
I stared at the messages, the tension in my chest loosening a little. It was easy to forget about everything else when it was only us. No cameras, no headlines, no sponsorship pitches, just me and her. And for tonight, at least, that would be enough.
Interstitial
@ChloeMurphyFanClub: Did you see the story in TDT about ChloNes?
@Tennisdrama69: Chloe REFUSED to deny it!! They have to be real.
@ballhitter: they look hot together. I’d pay to watch.
@QueenInesCosta: Gross.
@baselinejunkie: Does anyone else think that Inés looks SO depressed when she’s with her? I still ship her with Scottie. They would be so cute together.
37
Inés
You Asked for This—Halsey
The minibus moved up the congested street, trapped in a sea of cars ahead and behind. The late-summer sun hung low but stubborn, the thick air still hot and sticky, pressing against the windows.
“It’s been forty minutes already,” Chloe complained beside me, her slick ponytail still immaculate despite the heat. “How much longer till we get to the hotel?”
We were stuck in the middle aisle, the bus packed with our teams, the atmosphere stifling. I scrolled through social media, praying that the traffic would miraculously clear.
Calvin turned around from the row ahead, not even sparing her a glance. “You know you’ve got a physio session before you’re done for the day.”
Chloe groaned in frustration. “I want to order room service and finish my book.”
My hand found hers on the seat, fingers curling briefly over the top of hers, the friendship bracelets catching in the sunlight. A quiet reassurance. “We’re close. The hotel is around the corner.”
I wanted to talk to her about the magazine offer, about what I’d said to Selene. But not now, especially since my manager was sitting in the car with us.
My attention turned back to my phone as Chloe began to argue about her evening plans with Calvin. I just smiled, knowing that no matter what, she’d end up in my bed. Scrolling down, the usual feed of US Open coverage popped up, a collection of the “best shots” from today’s matches catching my attention.
My grin only grew as one of Chloe’s second-set backhand returns made the list, every movement of her strong body perfect in the snippet of video. Every piece of footwork was perfect, her arms a loaded spring that launched the ball crosscourt. I tried to “like” the video, except my stupid thumb caught instead on the comments, the section opening up on the screen. My heart stopped in my chest as I took in what had appeared, the hate.
@ATPeeved: Sick of seeing CM everywhere.
@umpiresaysno: One second she’s dating Henrik, and now Inés? Talk about sleeping around.
@realtennisfan: Isn’t it sus how Murphy only got good in the last few months? Does anyone else think she’s doping?
I wanted to look away, wanted to erase what I was seeing from my mind, but as I scrolled deeper, it got worse, my stomach twisting as I took in the words, the messages, some even bordering on homophobic, others straight up hateful.
And all of them about Chloe.
I looked back at her as she rested her head on her hand, a hot flush across her perfect face. Even when I’d hated her, when I thought she was my biggest threat, I never would have said anything close to what these strangers were saying about her. My heart ached like a wound I wasn’t sure would heal.
“Why don’t we walk?” Mallory suggested from behind us, Zackary sitting beside her. “Today was a long day but I’m sure we can handle a block or two.”
Everyone murmured in agreement, me more than anyone needing the fresh air and some time to process what I’d seen, but Calvin looked unsure. “Okay, but we’ve got to stick together.”
Chloe gave him a flat look. “What, you think the mean streets of New York can’t handle us?”
