I swallowed uncomfortably. “Then she played me.”
He didn’t look at me, but I could see his discomfort in the swallow of his throat, the firmness of his fist. He was torn between me and his friend.
“The draw works in mysterious ways.”
Scottie let out a loud screech in the background, Nico wrapping his arms around her waist, spinning her around in mid-air, and next to them, Inés turned, shaking her head as she slowly began to walk back up the beach. The closer she drew, the more the dread built up in me.
It was hard not to keep watching her, part of me thankful for my sunglasses so she couldn’t see how my eyes trailed over her athletic body, stomach trim and muscled, biceps defined, her cropped glossy dark hair falling neatly on her shoulders.
“Do you want a refill?” She stopped before Henrik, her hand on her curved hip.
“A beer would be nice.” Henrik picked up his empty bottle, passing it over to her. He turned to me. “Do you want anything?”
I could practically feel the warning radiating down at me frombehind her black Dior sunglasses, the unsaid “Don’t you dare.” I shook my head.
Inés nodded, disappearing past Henrik towards the beach house.
All I could think about was how it had felt, having her warm skin pressed against mine, every single touch with her overwhelming in a way I’d never felt before.
She’d noticed that I was overwhelmed at the party where we’d met, finding the busy atmosphere too much. It had been her idea to find a different room, for some quiet, but my idea to kiss her, and all along she’d been enthusiastic, reminding me we could stop anytime I wanted to.
I’d always known, somewhere in the back of my mind, that I was into girls, if secret crushes and the way my cheeks flushed around them were anything to go by. But I’d never done anything about it. Not until I met Inés Costa. Kissing her had made everything certain.
But when I’d gotten up to leave, she’d given me her number. I had my parents’ voices in the back of my head, telling me not to even make friends with the competition, let alone make out with it. In the end, I’d saved her number in my phone but never dared to use it.
Sometimes, I just stared at her contact card. Like it was the only evidence that it had ever happened.
The next time I saw her was months later in Melbourne. My arrangement with Henrik was public, and when we’d gone head-to-head on court, I think I took her by surprise with my win.
The way Inés had looked at me as she shook my hand, meeting at the net, it had felt personal, and since then, it had spiraled out of control. And maybe... just maybe, it would help if I said sorry.
“I’m going to go feed Wilson,” I said, making an excuse to chase after her, see if apologizing would help. Henrik only murmured, relaxing further into his chair, feet digging into the warm, dusty sand.
Unhooking Wilson’s lead from where it was tied, I took her back inside.
The cool air of the kitchen felt like a relief from the burning sun,the air conditioning working hard to keep the beach house comfortable. The room was empty, Henrik’s bottle untouched on the counter.
I focused on Wilson, pouring some dry food and fresh water for her.
No sign of Inés.
Feeling increasingly awkward, I started to chicken out, grabbing myself a bottle of water and a fresh beer for Henrik, the coldness of the fridge helping me cool down, the sun having done little to improve my hangover.
I closed the fridge door and turned back to the kitchen island but stopped suddenly when I found Inés on the opposite side of the kitchen, frozen in the doorway. The surprise across her features hardened as her gaze flickered to the bottles tucked under my arm.
“I was going to get him a beer,” she said, as she stepped up to the marble counter.
“Right,” I said, trying to ease off the tension with a smile that didn’t quite land. “Didn’t mean to step on your toes.”
I stretched my hand out towards her, offering her the beer. She hesitated.
“It’s funny,” she replied after a beat, though she didn’t take the bottle. Her arms crossed—not in defiance, but maybe to shield herself. “You seem to do that a lot.”
Her dark brown eyes bored into mine, the look not hostile despite her sharp words but instead guarded. I couldn’t look away. This was the closest I’d been to her in nearly a year. So close, I could smell the salty ocean water that clung to her golden skin.
I swallowed, the weight of our shared history settling on my tongue. “I’m sorry,” I said, quietly, uncertainly. “For everything.”
Our on-court battles. My public meltdown. Inés could take her pick of reasons.
