Chapter Thirty-Four Juliette #2
The final thread is the weirdest for her.
It’s a punch in the stomach to see herself staring at Luca like that.
The smile on her mouth is wide and natural, and she looks so…
happy. Luckily it’s from when they were coming off the beach and not making out, but still.
Juliette looks as lovestruck as she’d felt.
They’re both wrapped in their own little intimate world, and it says too much.
Heart-eyes Ricci spotted on the boardwalk with rival Kacic! Some random “news” source that is more like a stalking account writes in their post.
She scrolls through the replies, and heat crawls over her skin. Almost all of them are positive, but they’re too prying, too violating.
@riccisbackhand
told y’all something was happening with them. look me in the eyes and tell me i’m wrong about them being soulmates i’ll wait
@paytoninafountain
god I wish I could find my soulmate so they could look at me like ricci looks at kacic
@wta4me
they’re so important to me #juluca
Juliette tosses the phone down to the end of the bed and throws her arms over her face with a groan.
Maybe she has done this to herself. She’s certainly stoked the flames of Twitter before, encouraging speculation about her and Luca.
But it’s more fun when there is nothing at stake.
Now, everything feels so fragile and Juliette selfishly wishes they’d just keep their thoughts, opinions, and theories to themselves.
A current of energy and jitters course through her body, and she throws herself out of bed to hit the gym.
She knows it might not be wise to wear Luca’s clothing, again, but she finds a nondescript pair of shorts and a black tank top.
Luca is taller but thinner, so the shirt is a bit too long and spans a little too much over the breasts, but it works for her purposes.
It’s less incriminating to wear that than it would be to wear Luca’s pajamas down to her own room to get her sneakers and sports bra.
As she heads down the stairs to her floor, she knows she shouldn’t care. This shouldn’t matter. She has never let fan speculation or gossip get to her before. But this nags at the back of her throat. For once, she wants this one thing to be hers and hers alone.
Although with her meddling sisters and overbearing father, maybe that was never destined to be true.
With their status as professional athletes, the fans will always crave a slice of their lives, a moment to look behind the curtain and get a peek at the intimate details.
The media keeps nothing sacred. That was the first lesson Juliette learned from watching how Octavia and Claudia conduct themselves in the tennis world—Octavia keeping everyone at arm’s length and letting the media demonize her as “aloof” for being private, and Claudia letting in too much spotlight to use attention as a whip, forcing the media to love and hate her in the same breath.
She realized it would be no use trying to be anyone other than herself.
Unfortunately, this means the media witnessed every single one of her hormone-induced breakdowns on the court and labeled her an immature brat before she hit her second growth spurt at nineteen.
But now, after having let everyone see her, it’s almost impossible to close off that tap of access, especially when she wants everyone to know she’s more than her teenage self.
Juliette barges into her room and slams the door shut. She shakes off the thoughts as she changes clothes, then shoves her headphones over her ears. This will blow over. Everything always does.
It does not blow over.
At least not quickly.
Juliette doesn’t see Luca for the rest of the day, which she expected. They’re on different practice schedules, and she’s sure her father is somehow pulling the strings so they don’t end up anywhere near each other.
“Do you know where Livia is?” she asks Antony as they finish their early dinner and strategy meeting.
They’ve been diligent in avoiding the topic of last night and Luca.
Even though his glare tells her that he isn’t letting it go, she practiced really well and he can’t complain when she’s showing how dedicated she still is.
Antony blinks, tilting his head to stare at Juliette as if she’s grown three heads. “I have no idea. She’s an adult.”
Juliette huffs and wonders if Antony should have ever become a father. “Well, I’m going to go find her. See you tomorrow?”
Antony nods stiffly, turning back to his phone without comment. Eventually she’ll have to deal with his anger, but she has bigger things to deal with right now.
Livia picks up her call after three rings, which is two more than usual. “Hey, Jules, what’s up?” She sounds breathless, like she’s been running.
Juliette pauses in the middle of the hotel lobby, narrowing her eyes. “Where are you?”
“In my room? Why?” She hears the snick of a door closing.
“Livia, we need to talk,” Juliette says, trying to hold back the tide of frustration building in her chest.
“Uh-oh, full name. Is this about the selfie? As your PR manager—”
“You are not my—”
“I think it is a bit of an overreaction,” Livia continues, bulldozing through her as she always does. “And before you ask, no, I cannot make the other people take down the photos.”
Juliette pinches the bridge of her nose. She is not having this conversation in the middle of the lobby, even if she doubts anyone around her can understand rapid Italian. “We need to talk about this in person. What room are you in?”
“No!” Livia squeaks.
“What the hell is going on with you?” Juliette hisses into the phone, turning away from a family who is staring at her with open curiosity.
“Nothing! Nothing you need to worry about. I’ll talk to you later tonight. It’s a family cocktail night at Octavia’s rental house.”
Juliette wonders if it’s too late to be adopted into another family. “I thought Octavia wasn’t coming to Miami? And why did no one tell me this?”
Livia huffs. “You clearly do not look at our group chats. Octavia isn’t playing Miami, but she’s here to support you, Claudia, and Leo. Duh. Anyway, check your texts for this cabana she booked without my knowledge, and I’ll see you there. Oh, and bring Luca!”
Juliette’s stomach drops through the floor. “Last time I did that, I blew up the internet. And that’s what—”
“Don’t be so dramatic. It’s only the tennis sphere. You didn’t even trend. Plus, this is actually private. You know Octo.”
Juliette can’t argue with that. “I think this is all moving too fast.” She moves toward the stairwell, the jittery energy becoming static in her ears.
She hears the sigh of a couch moving as Livia folds into it. “You’re just afraid, Jules,” she says.
“Of course, I’m afraid,” Juliette says, and she punches open the door to her floor.
“Look, I have to go.” She hangs up before Livia can get in another word.
Her phone buzzes again and she picks it up without looking at the screen.
“Livie, I told you, I’ll talk to you later.
” She jams the phone between her shoulder and ear, impatiently slamming her key card into the door.
“Juliette?” Luca’s voice crackles through the speaker.
The phone slides from where it’s scrunched against Juliette’s neck and falls to the floor. She scrambles to grab it and stumbles into her room. “Sorry, Luca. I thought you were Livia.” Her satchel slips off her shoulder and smacks to the floor. Fuck, she hopes her camera didn’t break.
“I gathered that,” Luca says dryly. Then, with more concern, she asks, “Are you okay?”
“Great, fantastic, why wouldn’t I be?” Juliette is aware she’s breathing too fast, and her vision is spinning. She’s falling and feels like at any moment she’s going to splinter into thousands of pieces on the ground.
“Jules?”
She realizes she’s crouched on the ground, her hand on the floor to keep her steady. “Yeah?”
She breathes in deeply. Then she tips back and sprawls on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. She counts the speckles of black paint artfully splattered across the cream.
“You sound like you’re panicking? Do you want me to come to your room?
Is that where you’re at?” Luca’s voice threads through the phone, tiny and with a little quaver, but Juliette closes her eyes and listens to the lilt of her accent around the vowels without really comprehending what she’s saying.
“My sisters are having a cocktail party tonight,” she says. Her throat tightens, and when she blinks her eyes open again, her vision spirals. “Livia wants me to bring you.”
“Okay,” Luca says slowly.
Juliette swallows. “It’ll probably be overwhelming.
Much like the Connolly Cup except they’ll all be grilling us about each other.
I understand if you don’t want to come.” The words fall out in a tumbled rush, and Juliette isn’t sure if they’re in the right order. Is she even speaking English anymore?
“Do you want me to come?” Luca asks, and Juliette latches on to the sound of her voice again.
“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” Juliette says numbly. “And they’re not as bad as my dad, but they’re meddlesome and complicated.”
“That isn’t what I asked, Juliette,” Luca says patiently. “Where are you? Why don’t we talk about this in person?”
“No!” Juliette barks, and she cringes the minute it leaves her mouth. Her head aches and she wonders if she’s going to be sick.
“So, you don’t want me to come?” Luca asks.
Juliette hates how flat her voice is.
“No, I’m sorry,” Juliette says, her eyes prickling. “It’s not you. There are pictures of us from the boardwalk online. I know it shouldn’t freak me out, but it does, and I can’t explain it.”
She covers her eyes, and that somehow makes everything worse. Her stomach twists. She doesn’t know what she’s doing. She listens to Luca breathe on the other side of the phone, somewhere else, and not near her. She wants Luca here, but she doesn’t want Luca to see her like this over nothing.
“Juliette, what is this really about? Who cares about rumors? We’re allowed to be friends in public.”
“I’ve never had something like this, and if we let the world in, it’ll be ruined,” she whispers.
Luca sighs. “Juliette, it’s okay. Everything will be fine. Breathe, please.”
Juliette exhales sharply, her lungs burning. She hadn’t even realized she was holding her breath. “I feel sick,” she says.
“Jules, seriously, where are you? I think you might be having a panic attack.”
Juliette laughs, but it sounds high and hysterical to her ears. “It’s so fucking stupid, Luca! I shouldn’t be! I’m fine, really.” The walls bend inward, and she claws at her tight throat.
“Panic attacks aren’t rational.”
Juliette looks at her hands, and they appear alien. Crystalline spikes of agony drill into her stomach, and she wonders if she’s going to throw up, right here on the phone with Luca.
Her pulse pounds, too loud, like a drum in her head. Her stomach heaves, but nothing travels up her throat. Words drift in and out, cutting through her bleary, dizzying world like radio static clearing as a car swerves in and out of reception.
“Juliette, please, breathe. What room number are you in?”
She listens to her own harsh intake of breath. It rattles around her lungs as if there are tatters in the tissue, letting air escape without her control.
“Two one three,” she whispers into the phone, digging her nails into the plush carpet beneath her. She wishes her stupid heart would stop pounding so hard.
“Hey, Jules.” A face blurs above her, cool fingers touching her cheek. She tries to swallow, to say something, but her throat is still too tight. “Hey, just focus on breathing. It’ll be over soon. Can you sit up?”
Juliette clutches Luca’s forearm and slowly manages to sit up.
Her vision blurs and she gasps, but then Luca’s arm slides around her shoulders and holds her up.
She buries herself in Luca, throwing all of her weight into her.
It’s as if her bones have been replaced with lead, but with her face buried in Luca’s shoulder, the strange terror in her chest begins to loosen its grip.
One of Luca’s hands loops up and down her back, while the other holds the back of her head, thumb caressing the shell of her ear.
“Talk to me,” Juliette whispers. The silence around them is stifling, and she’s too aware of her own breathing.
“Anything specific?” Luca asks.
The rumble of her voice against Juliette is already soothing the fragmented pieces inside her chest, so she shakes her head.
Luca starts talking. Juliette understands none of the words, but slowly, in drips and whispers, her breathing evens out and her vision stops spinning.
She still feels shaky, but as she finally draws back from Luca, she can see clearly.
“Fuck, I wish I had one of Claudia’s Xanax,” she mutters as she presses her knuckles into her aching eyes.
Luca gently tugs Juliette’s hands away from her face. “How do you feel now?”
Juliette blinks, focusing on Luca’s concerned face, the crease between her brows, the deep frown marring the corners of her mouth.
In this light, she can see flecks of emerald in her hazel eyes.
Luca’s thumb sweeps against her lower lip, and a warm tingle sparks across her bitten mouth. “Shaky,” Juliette whispers.
Luca nods. “It’ll pass. I promise.”
“How often have you had panic attacks?” Juliette asks, curling her finger around a strand of Luca’s silky hair. She focuses on the texture, rubbing her thumb against the bluntly cut ends.
Luca shrugs. “A lot. More when I was a teenager.” Luca looks at her from under her long lashes, feathery blond and faint in the slant of sun creeping in. “Do you want to talk about it? I understand if not. We can deal with it later.”
Juliette searches Luca’s face, looking for some sign of what she really wants, but all she finds is tender concern.
“Not right now.” Juliette shakes her head. “But I would like some tea?”
Luca’s concern cracks into a smile. “Now you’re speaking my language.”