Chapter Fifteen Juliette #2
“Always excellent advice,” Payton says with a teasing grin as she leans between them on the bench.
“Thanks. I never would’ve guessed,” Juliette says, but she isn’t annoyed. If anything, she’s amused that she caught Kacic slightly off guard.
The umpire calls time and Juliette shakes out her wrists, ready to take on her serve. “Kick serve out wide,” she tells Kacic, who nods before she sprints to the net, crouching down.
Juliette doesn’t mean to, but her racket connects awkwardly with the ball and nails Kacic in the shoulder.
A gasp ripples through the crowd and Juliette smacks a hand over her mouth in shock. Kacic straightens, but when she looks back, she’s laughing. “Guess I should’ve clarified. Hit it hard at them!”
Giggles rise in Juliette, and even though she tries to stifle them, she can still hear them in her voice as she yells, “Sorry!”
The rest of the service game is just as messy. Juliette has to duck twice to avoid getting smacked by Kacic’s racket. But they pull it together to win the game.
“You’re both doing well,” Payton says, leaning in between them, elbows on the back of the bench. “I think you can break Remi if you aim most of your returns at Nadia. She is weaker at the net, so try not to hit the return back crosscourt to Remi.”
Juliette nods and pops the last of her banana into her mouth.
“Be mindful of each other. You’ve almost run into each other multiple times,” Karoline says, appearing next to Kacic.
Juliette nods. “We’ll get into it. Right, Kacic?” She holds out her fist for Kacic to bump, and she does. A bright burst of tingles zings against her skin, giving her a boost of energy.
“You’re not serving so I think my shoulder is safe,” she says, and Juliette laughs.
“I really am sorry about that.”
“Sure you are,” Kacic says, her eyes glittering with amusement. Juliette’s stomach swoops, unsure of how to navigate this odd truce they’ve shakily built on the court.
Just keep playing.
“Time,” the umpire calls. Juliette grabs her racket, jogging around the net. At the baseline, Juliette bounces on her toes.
Remi lines up on the baseline and bounces the ball as the crowd murmurs fall away, leaving only quiet. Remi’s eyes flick up for a brief second before she rocks back and serves.
Kacic drills the ball back at Nadia, who barely gets her strings on it and pops the ball. Juliette moves in and punches the volley cleanly, angled and short, winning them the point.
The crowd claps, and Juliette pumps her fist.
“Nice volley, Jules!” Payton cheers from the bench. Karoline sits next to her, elbows on her knees as she watches with her intense gaze. She nods slowly, but her face is impassive.
Juliette moves back to the baseline and catches Kacic’s hand as they move past each other. Remi is already ready by the time Juliette crouches in position. Remi switches up her serve and kicks it into her forehand, wide and unexpected.
Juliette slices it back crosscourt, too caught off guard to attempt to hit it at Nadia.
Remi hits a near-perfect drop shot, but Juliette is faster. She slides on the hard court, her shoes squeaking as she pops the ball over Nadia’s head.
“Switch!” Nadia calls out, shuffling to the opposite side as Remi skids into the ball, throwing it up into a high lob.
With her and Kacic at the net together, Juliette is very aware that they are slightly out of position and definitely awkward. She backs up.
So does Kacic.
The ball arcs across the lights, aiming for the middle of the court.
Juliette doesn’t think about it. She’s unused to sharing the court with anyone.
“Got it!” Juliette says just as Kacic calls out, “Mine!”
Juliette split steps, about to move forward and slam the overhead when she collides with a warm, solid body.
It happens so fast that Juliette doesn’t even process falling, but suddenly she’s on the ground, tangled with Kacic, and there is pain.
Bone-jarring and horrific pain.
“Fuck,” she whimpers, holding on to her wrist. She squeezes, and the pain triples.
Juliette rolls to her side, cradling her arm to her chest. Pressure points of pain on her back and hip make her curse a litany of fuck .
“I’m so sorry, Juliette. What’s wrong?” Kacic asks frantically, pale-faced and stricken.
Juliette rolls onto her back and gasps as the pain sparks up her spine. “Ah.”
Warmth engulfs her knee, and she feels Kacic drawing little circles with her thumb against her skin.
The moment stretches out, lingers, as Kacic stares down at her. Then the world snaps back to full speed, and suddenly Karoline is crouching next to her, touching her shoulder.
“Is it your wrist?” Karoline asks, her voice low and calm. She rubs Juliette’s shoulder.
Juliette nods. “Yeah. And my back.” Lying on it makes it pulsate with the beat of her heart, but she can’t move anymore.
She pants as the pain in her wrist starts to dissipate. She looks down at her palm and the flecks of blood from tiny cuts on her skin.
“I’m sorry.” Kacic’s voice is low and laden with guilt.
Payton is at Kacic’s shoulder, gently tugging her up and away. A trainer swarms where Kacic has left, and Juliette’s knee feels cold without her touch. A camera looms closer, focusing on her misery.
“Jules!” Claudia’s face blocks the camera’s eye, and Juliette sighs in relief.
“It’ll be okay, Jules,” Octavia says, her voice near the side of her head.
It takes every bit of Juliette’s self-control not to burst into tears, but her eyes prickle with heat.
She becomes hyperaware of the crowd’s concerned murmurs, with a few people yelling encouragement in Italian.
The lights high above are so bright, and when she looks away, her vision swims and black spots bloom.
Her fingertips find the scar on her wrist, lacing up the edge of her pinky. With help from the trainer and Karoline, she sits up, but her back spasms and pain ricochets up her spine. She can barely stand without shuddering.
“Kacic?” she asks once they get into the locker room.
“She only scraped her hands,” Payton says as the trainer prods at her aching back. The pain has started to dissipate, but with each jab it ripples outward.
“We should get scans to make sure nothing is damaged.”
Juliette flinches. Damaged. The word cuts into her, sharp panic winding around her ribs. “The match,” Juliette gasps out between clenched teeth.
“Don’t worry about it,” Karoline says. “It doesn’t matter.” Her eyes are warm and crinkled with concern. “Your health is more important.”
“We were playing well,” Juliette laments, shaking her head.
Karoline chuckles. “Maybe you two aren’t so bad together after all.”
Juliette’s stomach jolts and the phantom feeling of Kacic’s hand on her knee, shoulder, palm tingles on her skin.
Maybe they aren’t so bad together.