My worry dissipated slightly at the sight of two security guards behind, keeping a slight distance. But still. I couldn’t help but feel like this could be a mistake.
“There was no way I was going to miss watching you in the final,” Chloe said. She took my hand and slipped something over my knuckles, letting it rest on my wrist. The same simple beads she’d strung together one rainy day, hidden away in a storm-battered guesthouse.
The friendship bracelet.
“I wanted to make sure you had all the luck you needed,” she said, a knowing smile tugging at her lips.
“I thought we’d moved on from lucky charms.” My voice softened at the weight of the moment.
“I never promised that,” she said, and shrugged.
“Maybe it’s not the bracelet”—I met her gaze—“but you.”
Chloe’s expression shifted, amusement flickering. “If you’re stealing my luck, I respectfully demand you give it back.”
I laughed, stepping closer. “I respectfully demand you come here and kiss me.”
She didn’t hesitate, closing the gap between us. The moment her lips touched mine, the noise around us faded. The crowd, the pressure, the nerves, they all melted away. All that was left was her.
When we pulled apart, our hands remained locked together, my forehead resting against hers.
“I love you.”
Three words. I’d never said them to anyone outside of my family. They belonged to her now, forever and always.
“I love you too,” she whispered.
The announcement for my opponent’s entrance echoed through the tunnel, snapping us back to reality. Chloe glanced over her shoulder briefly, then squeezed my hand three times. “Give her absolute hell out there.”
Her determination was contagious, sparking a confidence I hadn’t realized I needed.
I picked up my equipment bag, ready to step forward. “Don’t worry,” I said, the corner of my mouth lifting. My name was called, the crowd’s cheer a rumble waiting to greet me. “I will. I learned from the best.”
Her laughter followed me, light and unguarded.
The tunnel was dimly lit, the sounds of the roaring crowd growing louder with every step. My grip on my racket bag tightened. This was it, the culmination of all those early mornings and late nights. And yet, for the first time, it didn’t feel like I was walking out alone. Chloe’s confidence in me steadied me like a hand on my back, pressing me forward.
Chloe laughed, the sound echoing around me as I stepped out onto the hard court, her fading words still reaching my ears. “I knew you’d learn something from us hitting together.”
I looked over my shoulder, taking one last glance at her, like I couldn’t stop looking at her, reveling in her beauty and the comforting knowledge that I was hers.
The stadium lights hit me first, then the sheer roar of the crowd, their energy buzzing in the air like static. My nerves flickered but didn’t consume me. Instead, I squared my shoulders and walked across the court like I owned the damn thing.
No more doubts, no more distractions. Just me, the racket in my hand, and the fight ahead. No fear. No hesitation.
It was my shot. My match.
My turn to win.
51
Chloe
Girl Is a Gun—Halsey
Costa vs Wei
Final—Arthur Ashe Stadium
