I couldn’t help my attention automatically swinging back to him. Seeing how close he sat next to Chloe, it was like she was squeezed between us, his hand stretched along the back of her chair.
“I’d stayed with a friend,” I insisted.
His smile grew tenfold. “Sure, afriend.”
The pit in my stomach grew even bigger. If they knew the story behind that night, would they still laugh? If I told them how I’d gone home with another player, somebody who’d approached me in the player’s lounge after a match. We’d spent all night there, chatting and drinking and growing closer. There were all those stupid sparks and butterflies in the stomach.
It felt safe; she’d made every move first. Flirted first. Kissed first. Invited me back to her room.
So, we spent the night together, and she’d made me feel so fucking wanted it lit me up from the inside out. Until her boyfriend came home. He had been so mad, but she’d argued that it had meant nothing, I was nothing, while I was in the fucking room.
In my blind panic, I’d grabbed the wrong bag. I’d nearly fallen apart when I saw her name stitched into the lining. The shame I’d been trying to bury came rushing back, sharper than ever.
And now I was sitting next to Henrik and Chloe. Different people, but the same fucking scenario threatening to rear its head. I didn’t ever want to be the other woman again.
“Anyway, we have no time to practice, and we’ve got a match later. And no time to sort her out with new kit,” Henrik continued, the table chuckling at the story. “I think you had to borrow from somebody else?”
I forced a laugh, trying to bring the story to an end. “Alright, that’s enough stories for one day. We are due at our practice in half an hour, and if we show up late I think our coaches won’t be best pleased.”
One look at Mallory and she straightened, and immediately the team moved on. We quickly paid up, saying our goodbyes as Chloe and I were sent ahead to prepare for our session, Henrik staying behind after noticing some other friends grabbing a coffee.
As we stepped out of the café, the summer heat hit us full force, the sun bearing down in that relentless way it always seemed to during the hard-court season.
“Did you really show up with someone else’s kit bag?” she asked, breaking the silence as we headed towards the practice courts.
“Yeah,” I muttered, keeping my gaze forward.
“Come on,” she said. “It’s not like you haven’t laughed at me before.”
“It’s different, Chloe.” My voice came out softer than I’d intended, but the weight behind it was undeniable. She didn’t need to know the truth. No one needed to revisit the fiery car wreck that was my romantic past.
Her smile faltered, and for a second, I thought she might push. “Okay,” she said. “Fair enough.”
We walked in silence for a bit, the only sounds the crunch of gravel underfoot and the distantthwackof balls being hit on nearby courts.
“I’ll tell you one thing, though,” she said, glancing sideways at me. “If you ever do something that stupid again, at least let me be there to see it. Seems like it would make for good entertainment.”
“Noted. I’ll invite you next time I completely humiliate myself.” I laughed. “But only if you make sure I have a front-row seat to your own embarrassment.”
“Feels like a fair trade.” She smiled, and this time I dared to look at her. The sunlight only made her more beautiful, everything about her more vivid. The red tinge to her hair, the flakes of gold in her eyes.
I remembered seeing her on the beach, sitting next to Henrik. I’d had to use every shred of control I had not to let my eyes linger on her too long, the high-cut swimsuit under shorts that she’d been wearing too much for my brain to compute.
“Let’s survive this practice without killing each other first,” I said, a hint of challenge slipping into my voice.
Chloe flashed a grin. “Where’s the fun in that?”
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TENNIS SUPERSTAR CHLOE MURPHY SPLITS WITH ANOTHER TEAM MEMBER
Another day, another shake-up for Chloe Murphy! The 22-year-old tennis firecracker has reportedly cut ties with her longtime physio.
“There were big disagreements over Chloe’s training and post-match recovery,” an insider spilled. “She pushes herself hard, and not everyone can keep up.”
The timing couldn’t be worse, with Murphy already under fire for her recent outbursts and claims she’s “difficult to work with.”
Is this another bump in the road for Chloe, or the start of a full-on meltdown?
