“Add some cheese and you’ve got the perfect trap.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” She slipped the bracelet around her wrist. Compared to her perfectly appointed outfit, a gorgeous lilac matching skirt and skintight top, the ELITE branding in the upper corner of each item, the bracelet stood out horribly.
I tapped her hand. “I want that bracelet back when you’re done. But before matches, we can swap. Put some faith in it.”
She looked at the mismatched beads against her outfit. “It’s definitely a statement piece.”
“Awinningstatement,” I said, nudging her arm. “So, wear it like you mean it.”
Chloe laughed under her breath, the tension in her shoulders easing a little. “Okay, fine. But if I lose today, I’m blaming your taste in beads.”
“Deal.” I smiled. “And if you win, I’m taking credit.”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And yet, you’re still sitting here with me,” I shot back, looking over at her. The nervous look was gone, erased by a sunshine smile. Her eyes gleamed up at me, the green flecks brighter in the light. Her hair was still a mess, strands of it out of place and instead framing her face.
She still looked beautiful.
I swallowed, pushing the thought away. “Now, are you ready to destroy somebody on court?”
Chloe stood, joking through her nerves, “I was born to crush dreams.”
As we’d talked, the locker room had almost emptied, and only now did I realize how alone we actually were. Chloe zipped her bag, the bracelet catching the light as she slung the bag over her shoulder.
For a brief moment, she hesitated, glancing back at me. “Thanks, Inés. For this.”
She turned, digging out an orange pill bottle, a sticker on it clearly marked with her name and details. She poured one tablet out into the palm of her hand.
Warily, I asked, “What’s that?”
“Remember how I told you I used to struggle? When I was sixteen? I’ve taken anti-anxiety medication ever since,” she explained easily, washing the pill down with some water. “Don’t worry, it’s allowed and reported to the ITIA. I have a therapeutic use exemption for it.”
“That’s good,” I said, the slight worry calming at her words. I’d seen it before, players taking medications or supplements their coach had claimed were aboveboard. Only for their blood work to come back saying otherwise.
We stepped out into the corridor together, the noise from the warm-up courts greeting us. I glanced at her one last time as we walked to the split where we’d head to separate warm-up areas. The lilac and rainbow beads didn’t match at all, but somehow, they suited her. They worked with the patchwork image of Chloe Murphy I was beginning to build.
“Give them hell, Murphy,” I called over my shoulder.
“I don’t know any other way, Costa,” she shot back, her voice carrying enough of her usual swagger to sound like herself again. “You do the same.”
As I headed towards my own match, a strange warmth settled in my chest. This was supposed to be a professional arrangement, a mutually beneficial deal. But somehow, in a quiet, unspoken way, it felt like more than that.
And maybe... I didn’t mind.
24
Inés
Good Luck, Babe!—Chappell Roan
“We should toast,” Selene suggested, sitting at the head of the table. The clubhouse was busy, everyone getting in a good meal before the events of the day began.
“Does that mean I get some bubbles?” I joked, looking at my team around me. We were all out for a team brunch, a little tradition we had started while working together. If I made it past the first round, we got breakfast. And since this had been the first in too long, Selene had even flown out for the occasion.
“No,” Mallory, my coach, replied sharply, her blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun. “You’ve got practice later. Stick to your orange juice.”
At the opposite end of the table, Zackary pushed out of his chair. “Wait, let me get a picture for the socials.”
