The two of them exchanged a knowing glance, their shared grin sharp as a knife.
“Looks like your new bestie is having trouble,” Scottie said, tilting her chin across the room. My head whipped around instinctively.
Chloe was perched on the edge of a bench, panic etched across her face. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, but loose strands stuck to her temples. She was rummaging frantically through her bag, dumping its contents onto the bench beside her.
“Oh no, how terrible,” Dylan said flatly, her voice dripping with fake concern.
I rolled my eyes. “I’ll see you both in the warm-up area.” I snapped my locker shut before heading towards Chloe.
“Hey?” I said, stepping closer. “What’s wrong?”
She didn’t look up right away, but her shoulders relaxed ever so slightly at the sound of my voice.
“Nothing,” she muttered, then mumbled something else too quietly to catch over the buzz of the locker room.
“Hey,” I said, firming my tone. Her head snapped up this time, her sharp, blue-green eyes locking onto mine, stress carved into her expression. “Are you okay?”
“I...” She trailed off, sagging back onto the bench, her things scattered around her in a chaotic heap. “I can’t find my lucky sweatband and I’ve got a match in fifteen.”
“Yourlucky sweatband?” I repeated, brushing a few items aside so I could sit down next to her.
“It was my mom’s. I always play with it. I think I left it at home, and now I just...” She waved a hand at the mess around her, frustration bubbling beneath her calm exterior. “I don’t know how I missed it.”
“And now you’re having a meltdown?” I asked.
“It’s not a meltdown. Just nerves,” she explained, shrugging me off. “Nothing new.”
“You? Nervous? This does feel new.”
“I’m always like this in the first round. There’s something... cutthroat about it. If I survive this one, then I calm down, but at the start...” She shrugged.
Players could beincrediblysuperstitious. From the number of ball bounces before a serve to the quirks of lucky underwear, I’d seen it all. The tiniest things could unravel them if they felt the tide of luck wasn’t in their favor. Whether it truly made a difference or not, who could say? But for Chloe, the missing sweatband clearly was throwing her off.
“It’s normal,” I said gently. Maybe all she needed was a little bit of luck. And since we weren’t going head-to-head today, I didn’t mind giving her some of mine.
“Here, give me your bracelet.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“Trust me.”
After a moment’s hesitation, she slipped it off and handed it over. I got a good look at it, light blue and green beads with a neat little charm in the middle. The letters spelled outWilson, framed by two tiny pink hearts.
I laughed. “You made your bracelet for your dog?”
“The love of my life,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Of course. You know, people are going to think this is some kind of sponsorship.”
“If you know, you know,” she said with a grin. “Let’s see yours.”
I passed it over. Compared to hers, it looked utterly tragic.
“Really? “I heart wine”? she read aloud, a laugh bubbling up. “Did you seriously make a bracelet about wine?”
“The love ofmylife,” I said, smirking.
“Inés Costa and a glass of red,” Chloe teased. “The perfect pairing.”
