Chapter 14
fourteen
For the second time this week, Aleks stands outside the hotel gym, waiting for me. His phone is pressed to his ear, and when he notices me, he says, “Natasha, I’ve got to go.”
“Get out of my way,” I grit as I try to push past him.
He doesn’t budge. “No.”
“How do you always know when this is going to happen? Or do you spend all of your time standing outside of the nearest gym? What’s your hits-to-misses ratio now?” I ask, hoping to get under his skin.
“I have a 100% success rate. Because I know you.”
I roll my eyes. “Ante pali.” Here we go again.
Instead of getting angry like I thought he might, he opens his arms. I stare at them for a few moments, pretending I don’t understand what the gesture means, but the facade is cracking.
I step into his body, resting my arms against his chest and my head in the crook between his shoulder and neck.
It’s comforting, each point of contact warm and safe, and smells of citrus and a spice I can’t place.
Clove, maybe? We fit in a way I wouldn’t have expected, and when his arms wrap around me, it’s everything I didn’t realize I needed.
The tears that threatened to fall earlier break free.
He gives me the few moments I need to put myself back together before saying, “How about we go for a walk, yeah?”
I nod, patting my face dry. The neck of his shirt is wet, and I glance away, embarrassed. “Okay,” I say softly.
Aleks’ eyebrows knit together, like it pains him to see me like this. He reaches toward me, perhaps meaning to wipe away the rest of my tears, but stops himself, instead turning to lead me back to the stairwell and outside.
Warm coastal air greets us, tinged with salt.
The headlights of cars on Wando Bridge glow in the distance, steady enough to look like they’re strung like pearls over the river.
Crickets chirp as we amble toward the children’s park near The Kingstide, where a wooden pier juts out quietly into the dark.
Streetlamps cast golden pools along the sidewalk, the Sunday evening foot traffic slowed to a trickle.
“What gave me away?” I ask once I’m sure my voice won’t break on the words.
“You looked like you couldn’t get out of your head in the players’ gym before your cooldown. Not as excited about the win as I’d hoped you’d be.”
I sigh. “Press didn’t help.”
He grinds to a stop. “Did someone say something to you? Ask something in a degrading manner?” A muscle in his jaw ticks.
“No, not my press today. Though they were the usual bloodhounds they tend to be. I saw the Tennis Broadcast with Jackson and Sam? Dan? He had a lot to say about my ability to win in big moments, and people online echoed the sentiment.”
A soft breeze stirs the trees lining the quiet street, and we start walking again. “Sounds about right. Nobody can ever truly win anything with social media around, can they? Bunch of fucking trolls.”
“I guess it just…it echoed what I was already worried about. That I’m not a closer. That I may never be able to win in those big moments. I mean, you saw me against Anya. And in Doha and Melbourne, if you watched those. I had opportunities, and I squandered them.”
“Solnyshko, I do not give a single fuck what those mean-spirited, little-dicked individuals have to say about you. You closed today. You’ve done it plenty of other times.
Just because it’s a 500 doesn’t mean you didn’t have to work your ass off to win it.
” His hand brushes against mine, and I have to rein in the current that snakes through me.
“In my opinion, winning those bigger tournaments often comes down to endurance. That’s why I want to do extra conditioning this week before Stuttgart so we can make sure you’re physically prepared for a Madrid final or an Italy final or a Roland Garros final. Or all three.”
“You have more faith in me than I do.”
“I have endless faith in you. You’re utterly spectacular.”
My head drops as I try to hide the blush warming my cheeks. Hopefully it’s dark enough that he doesn’t notice.
We reach the pier, where marsh grass hugs the rails of the boardwalk, brushing against it like gentle fingers. Clearing my throat, I say, “My mother sent me flowers today.”
“Yeah? Does she do that often?”
I shake my head. “It’s never happened.” Moonlight dances over the water. “I can’t remember a time in my life where I ever felt seen by her or my father. Or anyone, really.”
Until you.
It comes unbidden, hanging in the air, unsaid. Aleks shifts closer, like he heard it all the same. “And the flowers made you feel seen today?”
Did they make me feel seen? Not exactly.
More like she hasn’t entirely forgotten my existence, and that there are still things I can accomplish that will turn her head in my general direction.
A newfound hope that things could change for the better between us.
“I wouldn’t go that far. But it’s the first time I’ve felt like she was proud of me since turning eighteen. ”
Aleks hums, and when I glance at him, I can’t figure out what the look on his face means.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Aleks.”
“No, it’s just…I can’t imagine not being proud of you for all the things you’ve achieved. But what do I know? I was proud when you tried sweet tea for the first time.”
“You are surprisingly easy to please.”
He lets out a derisive chuckle. “If only you knew.”
“Huh?”
Shaking his head, he leans against the wood railing, watching me. “Nothing. Speaking of sweet tea, what have you learned about yourself this week?”
My eyebrows furrow at the change in topic, but I say, “I like sunrise walks, sea bass, longan, and winning tournaments. And being sent flowers by my mother.”
“Look at you. That’s five whole things you now know about yourself, even if a couple are tennis related.”
“Oh yeah. Watch out everyone. I’m so much more than a failed tennis prodigy.”
Aleks tsks, bumping his body against mine. “Stop that. Each additional second spent talking about your mother’s titles or where you were ‘supposed to be’ at this point in your life will result in a lap around the track added to your workout every day next week.”
“Oooo,” I say, wiggling my fingers, “I’m so scared.”
“Fine, you’ll be running extra liners instead.”
My mouth snaps shut, and Aleks chuckles. He guides me back the way we came, the weight of the positives and negatives of the day lifting off my body.
“Did you ever do this? Lose yourself in tennis so badly, you needed to learn new things about yourself?” I ask.
“Where do you think I got the idea?”
I look at him from the corner of my eye, watching light and shadows play across his face.
His smile is subdued yet more genuine than many he plasters on.
He’s so good at this, at pulling me from the darkness, that I have to wonder if it’s not solely himself he’s done this for, but his sisters and brother too.
“What sorts of things did you do?”
“One time, at a lower-level tournament, I told myself I wanted to hit ten tweeners for the fun of it. Suffice to say, I did not win that match.”
The image of him moving toward a ball with the intention of hitting it between his legs, then trying to do that ten times in one match, startles a laugh out of me.
The subdued smile turns to that lit-from-within grin that takes over his whole face, like there’s nothing he’d rather do than make me laugh.
“Another time, I tried underhanded serves. My parents were not happy with me for that.”
“Those aren’t unrelated to tennis, but what did you learn about yourself?” I parrot his usual question back to him.
“That I enjoy tennis way more when I’m afforded the ability to be silly.”
Smiling softly at my feet on the paved road, I ask, “What other sorts of things?”
“Why? Trying to copy my answers so you don’t have to put in the work?”
I shove him. “This is what I get for trying to learn more about you. I should have known.” I march away from him playfully, in far better spirits than before.
Joking. Messing around. Learning about myself just by existing beside Aleks.
“No, wait! I’ll tell you!” His steps are loud behind me until he catches up. “I learned I like to draw. That if I actually apply myself, I’m sometimes good at it. That I prefer limeade over lemonade. That pineapple absolutely, unequivocally does not belong on pizza.”
“I’ll have you know it was a Greek man who invented that. Don’t speak ill of my people.” We cross the threshold of the side entrance of the hotel, moving toward the elevators.
“Not your people. Just their more questionable choices.”
I hum, pressing the up button, then walk in as the doors open. Over the course of the ride, his expression changes, growing solemn.
“What are you thinking about?” The elevator chimes, and we walk toward my room, fishing my key card out of my bag.
“It’s funny,” he answers roughly as we reach my door, “that the best day of my life, the day I did the biggest, bravest thing I could possibly do for myself, gave me so much relief but ended so poorly for my siblings.”
My step toward him is involuntary, as is the hand I set on his firm shoulder, my body moving before my brain processes.
“If you want me to listen to you about not overtraining, then you have to listen to me when I say you didn’t ruin their lives by taking charge of yours.
Granted, I don’t have siblings and I’m not sure that even if I did, my personality would create these same feelings in me, but I do know that all your siblings are adults and equally capable of making decisions.
” My voice drops. “Have you talked to any of them about this? Maybe if you all came together and worked through it, you might come to a solution?”
It’s weird setting aside my dislike for Anya. But if it means helping him appreciate that just because he’s the eldest doesn’t mean he’s responsible for the way his parents are, that he doesn’t have to let the guilt overwhelm him, eat him from the inside, I’ll let it pass without too much thought.
Aleks shakes his head. “I don’t like to talk to them about it. Nobody in my family knows why I left.”
“Why?” I ask softly.
“Because they’re still dealing with it. How selfish would it be for me to express relief that I got out when they’re still in it? When they may not have the same ability to go against my parents’ wishes, or haven’t found anything else in life they’d want to do instead?”
I tilt my head, allowing his words to wash over me. I don’t think it would be selfish, especially if it helps them, but maybe I’m not looking at it the way he is. Maybe I lack his unique perspective on the situation.
It frustrates me that I can’t immediately find an answer to make him feel better when he’s so good at doing that for me.
His serious expression is replaced by a smile.
Not the one that lights his whole face, but the one he puts on to cover his true emotions.
My hand drops as he steps closer, pressing me against the door of my hotel room.
I’m rooted to the spot, staring back into his eyes.
I should say goodbye, swipe my key card, and go to sleep but…
Maybe it’s the roller coaster of a day I’ve had, or maybe it’s that I haven’t been touched intimately in months.
Or maybe it’s that the smallest sliver of me recognizes that our relationship has changed significantly in the last couple of weeks and the attraction I’ve been fighting is going nowhere.
“More importantly, are you sure you’re still uninterested in my flirting? Should I dial it back up again?”
If it’s a way to divert my attention, my body doesn’t care, my heart skittering when his fingers brush against my hip.
My stomach dances at his proximity, electricity flooding my brain at the prospect of sharing his air, his breath.
I look away, over his shoulder, for the sake of plausible deniability.
“Your will-he-won’t-he act is giving me whiplash. ”
He leans forward, his lips brushing mine, soft and warm and featherlight, and I want more.
A quiet sound not unlike a moan escapes me, my body forever betraying me in his presence.
Aleks chuckles, his lips still touching mine.
Still exchanging air. “Oh, solnyshko, if you wanted me to kiss you, all you had to do was ask.”
I huff, disgruntled. When I can form words again, I say, “Keep dreaming. And you’re only doing this to distract me from the conversation about your siblings.” It’s a win that I’m able to identify that. That I’ve learned enough about him, I can tell his intentions by which smile he wears.
He doesn’t respond, simply takes the key card out of my hand and swipes me into my room, pushing the door open for me. I nearly fall backward, but his hand on my waist keeps me upright.
“Guess you’ll have to be satiated by that, then.” He squeezes my side once before he’s gone, down the hall and into an elevator, winking over his shoulder.