“Playing me... that’s what made you hate me.”
The confession stopped me cold. My breath hitched, her pain cutting deeper than I expected. I held her tighter, as if I could somehow prove her wrong.
“Chloe,” I whispered, my voice trembling under the weight of the moment. “I never hated you. I never did. I was frustrated and mad, sure, but never hate,” I insisted, desperate to soothe her, to chase away the sadness written across her face.
My fingers gently brushed her hair back, tucking it behind her ears. My heart ached at the sight of her red-rimmed eyes, the tear-streaked lines down her cheeks.
“I don’t want this either,” I admitted softly. I might have been better at compartmentalizing, but playing against her wasn’t any easier for me. “But you can’t argue with the draw. This is the job. If each of us wants to win, this is what has to happen. At least we both got this far.”
She let out a long, heavy sigh and tilted her head back, gazing at the expanse of dawn sky. The rising sun softened her features, and for a moment, I forgot everything else, lost in how achingly beautiful she was.
I wanted to pull her close again, to hold her until she believed me when I said everything would be alright.
“You’ve got to treat me like any other player, Chloe.” I held her gaze firmly, determination lacing my words. “Play to win. Use everything you’ve got to dominate. Spill fucking blood on that court if that’s what it takes to make the final, no matter who’s on the other side of that net, because I’ll be doing the exact same.”
The weight in my chest pressed harder with each word. I wasn’t only saying it to her; I was reminding myself too.
“I’ll still be here, no matter what happens. If we need space afterwards, fine. This competition feels like everything now, and that’s okay. But it’s one of four in the year. One of many more in our careers.”
She looked at me like I was the only person in the world she could see. The only player she’d ever consider showing a shred of weakness to. And part of me, the competitor, hated that. It revolted at the idea. But this wasn’t pity.
This was devotion. This was love.
Chloe surged forward, closing the small space between us, her lips meeting mine in a kiss that stole my breath. My fingers wove through her hair, her warmth grounding me, even as the world seemed to shift beneath my feet.
How could a kiss make everything feel better when, only seconds ago, it felt like everything was falling apart?
She pulled away, resting her forehead against mine, as I murmured,“The loser will get over it. And who knows? The winner might crash out in the final.”
Chloe laughed softly, the sound vibrating through her body and into mine.
Her lips found mine again, each touch of her mouth unraveling my anxieties. When she finally pulled back, she smiled faintly.
I reached for her hand, squeezing it lightly.
For a brief moment, the tension between us lifted, replaced by something lighter, easier, and I couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief.
But then, as if a shadow fell over her, Chloe’s smile faltered. “I need to tell you something,” she said, her voice quieter now, her gaze flickering away from mine.
I frowned. “What is it?”
She hesitated, staring at the ground as if the words were caught somewhere in her throat. When she looked back at me, her lips pressed into a thin line, braced. “Calvin. Dad. They think... someone on your team might be leaking the stories.”
Her words hit like a cold wind, my stomach sinking. “The rumors online?” She nodded, and I let out a frustrated sigh. “Half of them aren’t true.”
“I know,” she replied quickly, “but sometimes they’re... too close. Like someone took the truth and twisted it enough to sell a headline.”
I rubbed the back of my neck, my mind racing. “I don’t know who would do that,” I admitted. My thoughts darted through every person I’d worked with recently, every conversation I’d had. My team wasn’t big, not since I’d started hitting with Chloe. “Selene mentioned some offers to sell stories about our partnership, but I told her to shut it down. Maybe if newspapers had approached her, they tried other people too. But I’ve never said anything about us.”
“I know,” she said softly. “I don’t want you to think Calvin doesn’t trust you, but...”
“It’s a distraction,” I finished for her. “And lies.”
She nodded, relief flickering across her face. “It’s getting worse now I’m being accused of really serious things. Sponsors are noticing and they care.”
Of course they did. I didn’t need her to explain how damaging bad press could be. A player’s image could make or break endorsement deals. Hell, I’d learned that the hard way myself.
“I have an idea,” I said. “It feels dumb, but we could send everyone we’ve worked with a different rumor, like something small but juicy enough that it could be worth something to sell.”
