Chapter Fourteen Juliette #2
Claudia cackles, and Luca’s chest warms with satisfaction. She can be friends with other players. She doesn’t have to stand awkwardly on the side like she does in the locker room. Maybe this weekend won’t be so bad.
The rest of their conversation is cut off by the front door opening.
“Good morning, ladies!” a bright voice calls, the vowels wrapped in a coiling French accent.
“Oh, excellent, they’re actually awake,” a distinctly American voice drawls.
The Fierce Four enter in a whirlwind, led by the youngest, Aurore Cadieux.
She looks like she’s hardly aged a day from her debut on the tour.
Payton Calimeris has her arm thrown around Aurore’s neck, a paper bag under her other one.
Seeing her in real life takes Luca’s breath away.
Luca modeled her game on Payton Calmeris.
She always said it was because Payton was the best on a hard court, but really it was because she had an intense crush on her when she was a teenager.
In person, she looks even taller, especially with her thick and wildly curly black hair fluffed up around her, streaks of silver in a few of the ringlets.
She is the oldest and retired first, but she is still thick with solid and corded muscle.
On the court, she was calm and icy, but now she’s grinning.
Even though she had three months to prepare to meet the rest of the Fierce Four Luca can’t breathe.
“Who is ready to play some tennis?” Karoline asks as she sweeps in next, Victoria Ferreyra on her heels. She winks at Luca and a bit of her nerves melt away. They want her here. She was specifically asked to be a part of this team, and that means that Karoline Kitzinger believes in her.
“I’ll be ready once I have one more caffeinated drink,” Claudia mutters.
The four of them integrate into the kitchen, as easy as breathing. “We brought—what are they called again, Karo? Malozolli?” Payton asks, hoisting the bag up and dropping it onto the island counter.
“ Maritozzi ,” Karoline says patiently.
“Oh, God bless you,” Juliette says. She takes the bag and starts dishing out fluffy buns dusted with powdered sugar. She doesn’t even look at Luca when she hands her one.
Luca takes it even though she’s not even halfway done with her banana. It is soft and light in her palm, much more appealing than a banana, and she won’t refuse a sweet treat gifted by the best tennis players in the world.
“All right, we’re having team meetings before we go to practice,” Karoline says, but she cuts off with a squeak as Payton pinches her side.
“Let them enjoy a bite of their food before going into business mode,” Victoria says, the rough rasp of her voice more pronounced, as if she just rolled out of bed. Karoline glares at her.
The ease between them is palpable, and while she shouldn’t be surprised, Luca is.
Seeing the four of them standing in a kitchen, laughing and chatting like they’re all friends meeting up for brunch, makes Luca think.
She glances sideways at Juliette, who is staring at Karoline like she hung the moon and the stars.
Maybe even if their start has been rocky, much like the Fierce Four they too can have a happy ending.
“Eggs are ready!” Octavia says, turning around and sliding the pan into the middle of the island. Remi sets down a fruit salad and plates.
“Very healthy,” Victoria says. “Your team needs the protein.” She elbows Karoline.
“Everyone needs protein,” Karoline says primly. “Dish up. We have a busy day!”
Luca appreciates being able to throw herself into practice without having to worry about conversation. She doesn’t have to be flustered with jokes or try to get people to like her. She can just play .
Practice is also easier than matches. There are no external stakes in practice. All the pressure is in the preparation, and there is no room for anger or whining or ego. It’s almost too easy.
Which is why she doesn’t love the Connolly Cup.
It’s a spectacle, even practice. The press is invited, and they’re constantly taking pictures from the seats. Each team has to pose together. Luca is forced to awkwardly stand next to Juliette and smile as they snap hundreds of photos.
After being handed a tiny microphone and made to answer inane questions about which player would make the best pizza or who would cry at a sad movie, Luca finally stands at the bench with her racket in her hand, spinning it impatiently.
“Ugh, I’m so jealous that the other team gets blue,” Claudia says, holding up a red tennis dress and inspecting it thoroughly. “Blue would look so much better on our complexions,” she says to Luca, holding the skirt up to her arm. “Don’t you think, Jules?”
Luca freezes.
Juliette sidesteps around the net from behind Luca and stands next to her sister. “Sure,” she says, her eyes lingering on Luca’s face but not meeting her gaze.
Luca is saved from responding by Payton clapping loudly and calling them over for a meeting about the actual start of practice.
For most of practice, Luca avoids Juliette. She plays a couple of singles sets against Octavia and then Remi. Luckily, Karoline doesn’t ask them to play against each other or even with each other.
When they’re done and back in the red team’s locker room, Payton urges them to gather together. Luca shuffles awkwardly to stand in between Claudia and Zoe, trying to ignore Juliette across from her.
“All right, Karoline and I decided on the roster for tomorrow.” Luca swallows, hopeful that she won’t have to play doubles. “Claudia, you’ll be the first singles match. Zoe, the second. And Juliette and Luca, you two will play doubles.”
Luca grimaces and Juliette makes a similarly disgusted face. “Why?” Juliette asks, clearly struggling to keep her voice even.
If Payton notices their discomfort, she doesn’t comment on it.
“Everyone has to play at least one doubles match and one singles match. Sorry, Jules, but you’re the weakest doubles player, so we’ll get yours over with first.” She points at Claudia.
“And I want you to play mostly doubles, so let’s get your singles match done. ”
Luca can’t argue with that logic. Every match is worth a certain number of points.
One per match on Friday, two on Saturday, and three on Sunday.
If they fail spectacularly together, it won’t cost the team as many points.
Still, the idea of playing doubles with Juliette under the scrutiny of thousands of fans makes Luca’s stomach lurch into her throat.
Juliette’s glare is hot on her face, and Luca dares to look at her. But, for once, Juliette keeps her mouth shut and doesn’t argue.