She snickered, pausing as Dylan took her turn at the microphone. As she finished, Chloe leaned in and said, “Imagine what Iwouldsay if I wasn’t terrified.”
I thought for a second, the piece of information slotting into place. I could understand that fear, how it could fuel you to misstep and speak out of turn. The anxiety and frustration all melting into something more.
Even though my English was good, speaking in public always made me nervous, in case I forgot all my mother’s English lessons and said something incomprehensible.
Finally, the event was over, a small band playing in the background as Scottie and Dylan posed for photos with the press. I set my sights on the locker room, my body aching for a hot shower. My right hand was tingling with the usual pain after a grueling match, nothing new, but I’d have to do everything the physio had taught me. We’d gone right down to the wire in every game, and now I was feeling the cost.
I paused at the side of the court, grabbing my belongings. Chloe met me there.
“What comes next?” she asked, swinging her equipment bag over her shoulder.
Shrugging, I replied, “A shower hopefully.”
“I meant bigger picture. What tournaments are you playing?” she replied dryly. I took a moment to process the suspicion that spiked at her question, opening my water bottle, taking a sip before answering.
“Washington starts at the end of the month, then Toronto—”
She cut me off, her eyes lighting up at my answer. “And Cincinnati. Yeah, I’ll be at all of those too.”
“Guess I’ll be seeing you there.”
“It will be interesting having you on the opposite side of the court again.” The cocky curve of her lips was distracting. “Do you think you’ll have as much fun trying to beat me?”
A week ago, facing her again felt like a nightmare.
Today, it was a challenge I couldn’t help but savor.
“Not as much as I’ll enjoy winning,” I said, watching her entire face light up at my challenge. A pink flush appeared across her cheeks, down her neck. I wondered if her skin felt warm there, or if it was as soft as I remembered.
Her gaze slid past me and over my shoulder. “Calvin! You’re here!”
I turned around, finding her brother meters away. Despite their contrasting hair color, they both looked so similar: same color eyes, soft nose.
He walked right past me to pull Chloe into a big hug, stepping back and smiling. “Look at you! Playing doubles. I never thought I’d see the day.”
“Anything for charity,” she teased back, a different kind of smile on her lips.
“Inés, this is Calvin, my coach,” she said as he offered his hand to shake. “And annoying pain-in-the-ass brother.”
Calvin shook my hand, a small wince of pain traveling up my arm with the motion. “Good to meet you, Inés. It’s incredible to find somebody who can calm this one down from a tantrum.”
“Nice to finally meet you,” I said.
“It wasn’t a tantrum,” Chloe interjected.
Calvin only smirked, raising an eyebrow as he continued. “She used to kick and scream whenever we told her practice was over.”
“I wasseven.”
I couldn’t help but enjoy the sibling squabble breaking out in front of me, before adding, “She wasn’t too bad today. Only challenged the umpire once.”
“And she didn’t kick up a fuss when the match didn’t go your way.” He tilted his head. “That might be a record for her.”
“This is unfair,” Chloe argued. “I still think he was shady.”
“He’s a country club line judge,” Calvin said flatly. “The worst he’s into is wearing white after Labor Day.”
“Anescándaloout in these parts,” I said with a laugh.
