“That’s one way to put it.”
A smile curled her lips. Only small, but real all the same. “I’ll give you this: it takes guts to take accountability when you’ve been a little bit of a pain in the ass.”
“Alittle?” I joked.
“Okay, maybe more than a little.” Noemi’s smile widened, and just like that, the tension eased.
I found myself feeling grateful for this interaction, for her forgiveness and how easily it came. I thought back to the last few weeks, how I’d earned Inés’s friendship. That hadn’t been nearly as simple as a bathroom conversation, but all the same, it had brought its own reward. It had brought me closer to her than I’d ever imagined.
“Well, I’m glad you don’t hate me,” I joked.
“Tennis is tough enough without carrying grudges.” She turned to the mirror, pulling out a red lipstick and touching up her makeup.
Before Inés, I’d never thought much about the people I’d left behind, but now it was so easy to see how lonely the journey could be.
But from the moment I’d walked into the beach house, Scottie had welcomed me. Dylan, although begrudgingly, had treated me with respect.
“I was taught that everyone I played was my enemy,” I said quietly, feeling far too vulnerable, but what else were women’s bathrooms for? “My mom used to be a player, and her stories were awful. Her opponents made her feel like an outsider off court. They practically pushed her out of the sport.”
“Cathy Murphy?” she asked, her curiosity sparked. “My coach used to play with her. She told me somestories.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t want to speak badly. They are secondhand stories after all,” she said.
“No, it’s fine. What is it?”
Noemi let out a heavy breath, her hands dropping to her sides. “It was like... my coach said Cathy was horrible to them. She’d spread stories with the media, trying to sabotage the things they were doing in the sport to make it equal for women.”
I stood quietly, thinking over everything I knew, my childhood full of terrible stories about how hard the other players were on my mom, how badly they treated her. But I couldn’t argue that the experience she’d warned me about was far different from how I was being treated.
Maybe it was different now, a different set of women who weren’t here to cut throats in order to win. Or perhaps my mom’s stories hadn’t told me the entire truth. Maybe it was Dad’s way of keeping me close, under their control.
I smiled politely at Noemi. “Thank you for telling me.”
“It’s what I heard,” she replied, her caramel eyes meeting mine.
“I know.” I smiled. “But I appreciate it. And I meant it before, the apology.”
“I can see that.” She looked me up and down. “There’s definitely something different about you. I can’t put my finger on it, but this is not the player I met six months ago.”
“Maybe a lot can change in six months.”
Maybe a lot can change in a few weeks, given the right person...
“I guess so.” She smiled. “I look forward to meeting you on the court again.”
“You too,” I replied with a nod, preparing to step back into the event. “Maybe this time you’ll have a shot,” I added with a sly smile.
Noemi smirked, a glint of determination in her eyes. “Don’t worry, I plan to.”
As I walked away, I couldn’t help feeling, for the first time, like I was actually connecting with people. But this time, not as rivals, but as friends.
What had Inés done to me?
As I reentered the event, I was immediately hit with all the reasons I had fled in the first place. The warehouse buzzed with the kind of energy I hated—manufactured, overproduced. Neon lights bounced off the metallic fixtures of the sneaker displays, highlighting everything but the reason I was actually here: to sell a product and smile through the discomfort.
Through the crowd I spotted Calvin and Dani, my publicist, who both looked a little panicked.
