Chapter Forty-One Juliette
FORTY-ONE JULIETTE
The rain does not let up through the evening. It continues steadily, drumming heavy fingers through the night.
Unfortunately, Cincinnati does not have a roof over any of its courts, so the final is moved to the next day if the deluge lets up.
Juliette’s original flight to New York City leaves in three hours, but instead, she knocks on Luca’s door with a healthy dinner from Phoenician Taverna in her hands.
Even though Juliette wants to scarf down as much unhealthy food as she can, since it will be her last opportunity for three weeks, she knows Luca needs to be strong and steady for the remainder of the final tomorrow.
She smothers down her pinch of guilt. Octavia can still win the match, and she doesn’t need Juliette to actively sabotage Luca to do that.
Luca opens the door, once again in a comfortable white hoodie and black cotton shorts that look too good on her, even if they’re baggy.
“Well, hello there,” Luca says. She smiles as Juliette steps inside. As the door closes, Juliette wraps her arm around Luca’s neck and kisses her. It’s quick but it still sends a shimmer of excitement through Juliette’s stomach.
“I come bearing gifts.” Juliette holds up the takeout bag.
“As requested,” Luca says with a roll of her eyes, and Juliette kisses her quiet, thoroughly addicted to the way Luca sinks into her.
Luca swipes the bags from Juliette’s hands and heads into the kitchenette.
They fall into an easy rhythm of unpacking the food.
Still, Juliette feels like she has been without Luca for too long and she encircles her fingers around Luca’s wrist and tugs gently.
Luca moves willingly into Juliette’s space, pressing their hips together and Juliette’s back into the counter.
Her hands land on either side of Juliette’s waist.
All Juliette does is gaze at Luca. She reaches up and traces Luca’s cheekbone, the soft point of her nose, the dimple that’s popped out with her smile, her always animated brows, her temples, and into her silky hair, loose and dry.
“What are you doing?” Luca asks.
Juliette looks back into her eyes and smiles. “Memorizing the shape of you,” she says.
Luca blinks and she turns her head slightly, away from the heat of Juliette’s gaze.
Her cheeks tint pink, and Juliette cups her palm over her cheek to feel the heat.
She runs her fingers through Luca’s hair, pressing her palm flat between her shoulder blades to draw them into a single long line, the space between them nonexistent, even though it makes the counter dig uncomfortably into her back.
Luca tips her forehead against Juliette’s and closes her eyes.
She draws a shaky breath, and Juliette recognizes the insecurity trying to lay claim to Luca’s thoughts.
So Juliette lifts her chin and kisses Luca.
It is as easy as breathing, and it only takes a second for Luca to relax, all hesitation flowing from her as she melts into Juliette.
It’s slow and syrupy, an exchange of tender sweetness and languid moves. Luca’s hands skim across Juliette’s body, ushering blooms of heat across her skin. She arches into Luca, moaning softly.
Luca dips her head and buries her face in Juliette’s neck, lips pressed to her throat. “You’re going to be the death of me,” Luca whispers.
Juliette tugs on Luca’s hair so she can see her face. She loves how unguarded Luca looks, her lips kiss-swollen and red, her cheeks blotchy with heat, and her pupils blown black. “Maybe.”
Luca’s fingers slide underneath Juliette’s sweatshirt. She leans back to look down at Juliette. Her hands smooth up Juliette’s stomach, spanning across to cradle her ribs and rest there, her thumb sweeping temptingly beneath her breasts.
Juliette shivers. The heat of Luca’s palms combined with the rough scratch of the calluses from years of tennis create the perfect combination of sensation. Then, before Juliette can register what she’s about to do, Luca claws her fingers and rakes them down her sides.
Juliette crumples into Luca, knees weak, as laughter is punched out of her against her will. She grabs onto Luca’s elbows and presses her forehead against her collarbones as Luca laughs at her. “Now you’re going to kill me,” she says, breathlessly.
“I like hearing you laugh,” Luca says, but mercifully lets go of Juliette’s ribs, giving her the chance to breathe properly. “Come on, I’m starving,” Luca says, once Juliette is able to stand upright again.
They gather the boxes and plastic forks, already arguing over which movie to watch until they settle on a dorky romantic comedy that they lean into making fun of while they polish off the food and relax into the squishy couch cushions.
Juliette hauls Luca’s legs into her lap and, in between quips about how overbearing the parents are about the bakery they own, she massages Luca’s calves.
Luca gasps, and her head tilts back. Juliette resists the urge to lean over and nip at Luca’s exposed throat. “Achy?” she asks, digging her thumbs into Luca’s ankle.
Luca nods as her eyes roll back with pleasure and her whole body falls slack. Juliette isn’t even paying attention to the movie anymore, instead focusing on unwinding the tension from Luca’s body.
“How did you learn to do that?” Luca gasps out.
“My father would do it for us whenever we had a particularly rough day. Although, I almost always kicked him in the face by accident.”
Luca’s toes curl as Juliette prods at a knot in the sole of her foot. “Wow, that feels so good,” she moans.
Juliette laughs. “You seem to like this better than when I eat you out.”
Luca blushes. “No,” she squeaks. “I can like both equally well.”
Juliette laughs but continues the deep massage. The credits are rolling by the time Juliette is satisfied that every knot is worked out of Luca’s muscle fibers. It looks like she’s about to pass out, so blissfully relaxed.
“I still have to go to New York tomorrow,” Juliette blurts out.
Luca’s eyes flutter open, and she looks at Juliette.
For a moment, the only sound is the gentle tap of slowing rain on the windows.
The curtains are open, but there is little light in the tiny town of Mason, Ohio.
A faint flicker from a nearby streetlamp baths them in amber, little speckles of shadow cast by rain droplets.
“Of course,” Luca says softly. She struggles to hide her disappointment. Juliette can see it.
Juliette draws shapes across Luca’s skin, warmth building beneath her fingertips. “When are you coming?”
Luca sighs, her toes flexing against Juliette’s thigh. “I don’t know. I’ll need to talk to Vladimir, and I think I’ve messed it up with him.”
“Surely he’ll forgive you. He’s been your coach for, what, ten years?”
“Fourteen,” Luca mutters.
“Exactly. He’ll understand, right?” Juliette knows her relationship isn’t the best with her father, but she knows he would forgive her if she had a breakdown on court like Luca.
“I still need to call him,” Luca says. “I’m worried though. I’ve never lost it on court like that before.”
Juliette hums and Luca tosses her head back, throwing her arms over her eyes. “I’m just so angry at myself.”
“Come on, a lot of shit has happened in the last few weeks.” Juliette tries to ignore the tight ball of guilt in her throat. “Was it a panic attack?” she asks after a beat.
Luca sighs. “Something like that. I was overwhelmed, and for the first time ever, the tennis court wasn’t a safe and calm place.”
Juliette’s heart wrenches, and she squeezes Luca’s knee. “Tell him that, then. He’ll understand.”
“I know,” Luca whispers, dropping her arms and looking at Juliette with a soft, unguarded look. “It’s always hard to talk about.”
“I think you need to talk to someone about your anxiety,” Juliette says. Luca frowns and shifts, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. “A professional. It will help you with your private life and your tennis,” Juliette adds, taking Luca’s hand and twining their fingers together.
“I’m fine,” Luca says, halfheartedly tugging on Juliette’s hand. Juliette tightens her grip.
“You’ve been coping. But everyone needs help. It will be uncomfortable, but it’ll help you in the long run.” Juliette pauses, but Luca is still guarded, defensive. “And I’ll help you find a good fit. You won’t be alone. Not anymore.”
Luca finally meets her gaze. Juliette can see her debating it and she holds her breath, waiting for Luca to settle on a decision.
“You’re right.” The tension drains out of her, and Juliette exhales slowly. Her lashes flutter closed, but her thumb sweeps down to caress Juliette’s wristbone, the strap still hiding her name beneath.
“I usually am,” Juliette teases.
Luca opens her eyes to roll them at her. After a pause, she tilts her head. “Can I suggest something for you too? I think you should consider getting a new coach.”
Juliette freezes, her instinct to immediately tell Luca an emphatic no.
“I’ve seen the way he talks to you during matches and practices,” Luca continues. “It’s… intense.”
“I want that,” Juliette protests. “He helps me stay focused that way.”
Luca frowns. “Okay, but it doesn’t seem to be doing any favors for your relationship. You said before that he is too controlling of your life. Maybe finding a new coach would be a good first boundary to set,” Luca says softly, as if not to spook Juliette.
Juliette opens her mouth, but no argument falls from her lips. Luca does have a point.
She sighs. “All right, I’ll think about it.”
Luca nods. “That’s all I ask.”
But she’d rather think about something else right now.
“Would you want to come to New York a week early and stay with me…?” Juliette trails off.
“Stay with you?” Luca prods.
Juliette bites her lip to keep from smiling. “I have a friend with a fun artist’s studio apartment she lets me rent in the city. It’s private, and it has the best golden hour sunlight.”
Luca squeezes her hand gently. “Yeah? I think I’d like that.”