Tyler just stared at Kate, jaw tightening, something unreadable crossing his face.
It was there and gone in a second but I’d seen it. That flicker of recognition that comes from an old scar you don’t talk about and I couldn’t help but picture Tyler as that broken teenager I imagined he’d been.
Tyler leaned back in his chair, arm settling casually along the back of mine, and started grinning. “Alright, Taylor, enjoy tonight, buddy. Tomorrow, I’m coming for that trophy.”
Jordan gave him a slow, assessing once-over. “Big talk for a bloke who needed his girlfriend to get him out of a fine last week.”
Kate’s head snapped toward me, eyes wide. “You what?”
I waved her off, feeling my cheeks heat. “Long story. Heroic rescue. Broken door.”
“Self-inflicted injury,” Jordan added helpfully.
Tyler pointed his fork at him. “Says the guy who couldn’t make it through a semifinal last year without his woman giving him a pep talk.”
Jordan just smirked. “Yeah, difference is, my pep talks work. And tomorrow, I’ll still be the one lifting the silverware.”
Tyler shook his head, laughing under his breath. “We’ll see about that, Aussie. Don’t forget, California sunshine makes us harder to crack.”
Jordan leaned in, voice low but teasing. “Mate, I grew up playing in forty-degree heat. You’re not cracking me. You’re barely denting me.”
Kate rolled her eyes, grabbing a piece of bread. “Boys, if you’re done measuring your…backhands, some of us would like to enjoy dinner without a testosterone fog.”
I snorted into my wine, catching the twitch of a smile on Tyler’s face. The easy banter between them felt… different. No walls, no edge of defensiveness. Just him, leaning in close, hisfingers absentmindedly playing with the ends of my hair while he listened.
“So, Orla,” Kate said, eyes glinting, “can I tempt you up to the stands with me tomorrow? Wear a frock for once?”
“Sorry, babe, I’m all polo shirts and kinetic tape for this one,” I said, catching the boyish grin spreading across Tyler’s face.
“Sort it out, Reed,” she quipped.
He tipped his chair back a little, smirking. “Please. You already hijack her with your endless group chat texts and those weird memes. I’m just over here tryna get some quality time with my girl.” His hand squeezed my shoulder tighter and gave me a look that almost melted my panties right then and there.
Kate laughed and shrugged. “Fair enough.”
By the end of the night, I felt ten times lighter. I couldn’t help but smile inwardly watching Tyler with such ease and warmth with our friends. I shook my head, smiling into my drink, but something about the moment caught me. Tyler wasn’t fronting or keeping his guard up like he usually did around new people. He was leaning in, arm brushing mine, his posture completely relaxed, letting himself belong. And these were good people. Steady, loyal, the kind you could depend on. Watching him slot into their orbit made my chest ache in the best way.
Kate drained the last of her wine and set the glass down with a decisive little clink.
“Right, lads,” she said, eyes dancing. “We need to get back to our boy. Let’s get out of here and give these idiots a photo they aren’t expecting.”
By the time we stepped out into the warm, chaotic night, the flashes started again only this time, Tyler’s arm was draped over my shoulder, Jordan and Kate walking close beside us. Four across, laughing, looking for all the world like old friends.
The crowd shouted names, but I barely heard them. The noise, the light, it all blurred into nothing beneath the sound ofTyler’s masculine laugh against my ear. His hand tightened on my bare shoulder, securing me in the middle of the madness.
I remembered the girl who’d panicked over headlines, who’d believed a photograph could undo everything. But tonight, I wasn’t hiding behind him. I was right there beside him completely in love, certain about life for once, and entirely his equal.
Tyler glanced down at me, his grin crooked and proud, and I swear the world tilted a little.
Print that, you fuckers.
Chapter 44
Orla
The next twenty-fourhours blurred in a haze of press, practice, and barely stolen hours of sleep. But when the sun rose over New York, there was only one thing left. Finals day.
Arthur Ashe felt like stepping into the eye of a storm. Except this storm was six feet tall, wore a backwards cap, and was currently bouncing on the balls of his feet like he’d been born for it.
