“That makes sense,” Chloe said. “I wonder what random pieces of gossip we could invent about ourselves.”
I reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face, letting my hand linger. “Now... are we actually going to hit a few more balls, or can wepleasecall it?” I smiled, trying to lighten the tension.
We quickly gathered our things up, the world outside our bubble feeling closer and closer. Whatever mess we had found ourselves in, I knew that we’d find a way to work through it together.
We walked side by side, her hand in mine, neither of us pulling away. As if we had to hold on to each other for reassurance that we were going to survive this.
As we stepped out of the gate, I turned to her. “We’ll figure this out,” I said firmly. “And no matter what anyone says, no matter what they write, none of that shit changes who we are on the court.”
She looked at me for a long moment, then nodded. “Deal.”
As we walked away, I squeezed her hand, just once.
Tomorrow could wait. Today, we were still a team. But soon it would be me against her.
And little did either of us realize how it was all about to come crumbling down.
42
Inés
Midnight Love—girl in red
We moved around each other in the locker room, a careful dance of avoidance. Both of us pretended that the match we were about to play was just another, not the one that could change everything.
I’d woken up to her warm body pressed against mine, her breath soft against my neck. In the short weeks we’d been sharing a bed, I’d grown far too accustomed to her heat, to the way her presence filled the empty spaces.
We were still waiting for the story to break. Together, we’d sent different lies to each member of my team. Simple stories ranging from each of us pulling out of the competition to planning dramatic team changes.
“Have you got a hairbrush?” Chloe asked from behind me. She was wearing an ombre purple dress, the ELITE logo displayed proudly across the middle. “I forgot mine.”
“Sure.” I pulled one from my bag and handed it over. “You look pretty enough already.”
“Thanks.” Her eyes trailing over me. “It’s my secret weapon: to distract you.”
I chuckled, but the tension between us lingered, the kind that couldn’t be brushed off with light banter, no matter how much we tried.
I placed everything I wouldn’t need for the match back into my locker. My movements felt automatic, robotic, like my mind wasn’t fully there, not when every glance, every word, felt heavier than it should.
The locker room felt too quiet now that there were only a few players left in the competition. Two had already played, and soon it would be our turn.
I brushed my outfit down, a sage tank and skirt combo, trying to eliminate any wrinkles. It felt like I was killing time, trying to avoid the inevitable. But I could hear the clock ticking down, every single tick as brutal as a paper cut.
“Are you ready?” I asked, despite not feeling near ready myself.
“As I’ll ever be.” Her gaze caught on mine, the mix of emotion clear. I suspected I looked the same, reluctant and unsteady. But I knew as soon as the tip of a trainer hit the hard surface of the court, we’d snap out of this.
We would be in direct competition again.
Had we ever truly not been?
Chloe’s fingers pushed off her bracelet from her wrist and held it out towards me. I did the same. How long ago that guesthouse felt now, shelter from the storm. We were merely a beginning back then, no idea of what lay ahead.
I couldn’t bear the distance between us any longer, and leaned across and pressed my lips to hers. She kissed me back, our hands slipping together in silent exchange.
Pulling away, I leaned forward, pressing my forehead against hers. “No matter what happens, we leave it all out there.”
Chloe’s lips curved into a soft smile. “Deal,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions I knew she felt too. “For the next few hours, it’s tennis,” she said, her voice growing firmer. “But after...”
