Chapter 14 The Rival Returns
D eclan Vale arrived at Westbridge on a Thursday afternoon wearing white.
Of course he did.
White polo. White shorts. White sneakers so clean they looked like they had never met a real court. Even his smile looked polished, bright, and expensive, like he had practiced it in front of a mirror with the words harmless and charming written on a sticky note beside him.
Lena hated him immediately.
Which was not fair, because technically she already disliked him.
This was worse.
This was dislike with evidence.
She stood near the media table beside Court One, Nico’s hoodie returned, her own cream cardigan buttoned neatly over a pale yellow top, phone in hand and stomach tight.
Talia had asked her to collect invitational content for the department account, which meant Lena was officially back to being useful but unofficially still on thin ice with her father.
Thin ice, as it turned out, looked a lot like standing twenty feet away from Nico Reyes while pretending she had not spent yesterday wrapped in his hoodie in front of her father.
Her father had not yelled.
That would have been easier.
Coach Hart had done what he always did when disappointment threatened to become too emotional. He turned calm. Clinical. Precise.
This arrangement has boundaries.
You both need to remember why it exists.
Lena, I need you thinking clearly.
And Nico—
Nico had stood beside her in that office with his jaw locked and his shoulders square, taking her father’s warning like every word was something he had expected and deserved.
That had been the worst part.
Not the warning.
Nico’s acceptance of it.
Like being treated as a mistake waiting to happen was familiar enough to be boring.
Now, across the courts, Nico had gone still.
He had been laughing.
Not loudly. Not fully. But Jace had said something near the benches, and Nico’s mouth had curved in that rare, reluctant way that made Lena’s heart do reckless things.
Then Declan walked in.
And the almost-smile disappeared.
Completely.
The air around Nico changed before anyone said a word. His body tightened. The racket in his hand lowered. His eyes locked on Declan with such cold focus that Lena felt it from where she stood.
Jace noticed too.
He stepped closer to Nico and said something Lena could not hear.
Nico did not answer.
Declan crossed through the gate with two players from Eastmont trailing behind him, both carrying bags and wearing expressions that suggested they knew exactly how attractive, talented, and irritating they were. But Declan was the center of it.
He had that kind of ease.
The kind that came from being forgiven before he did anything wrong.
Coach Hart moved forward to greet the visiting coach. Talia checked the event schedule. Students clustered near the fence, already whispering because gossip traveled faster than weather at Westbridge.
Lena’s phone buzzed.
Maya.
Is that him?
Lena typed back without looking away.
Yes.
Maya replied instantly.
He looks like a yacht learned tennis. I hate him.
Lena almost smiled.
Almost.
Then Declan looked across the court and found Nico.
His smile widened.
Not much.
Enough.
Lena saw Nico’s fingers tighten around his racket handle.
“Nico,” Jace said, louder now.
“I’m fine.”
The two least believable words in the English language.
Declan approached like he owned the sunlight.
“Reyes,” he called.
The nearby conversations thinned.
Phones lifted.
Of course they did.
Nico did not move. “Vale.”
Declan’s gaze swept over him, landing on the tape around Nico’s wrist before returning to his face.
“How’s the hand?”
Nico said nothing.
Jace’s expression sharpened.
Lena took one step forward before she realized she had moved.
Talia glanced at her.
Lena stopped.
Professional.
She needed to be professional.
She was holding a phone. She was collecting content. She was not Nico’s real girlfriend. She was certainly not someone who had the right to walk onto the court and stand between him and the boy who had turned his life into a scandal.
Declan tilted his head. “Still sore from last time?”
Nico’s jaw flexed.
Lena’s grip tightened on her phone.
There were two kinds of cruelty.
The loud kind, which at least had the decency to reveal itself.
And the kind Declan used.
Soft. Polite. Smiling. Designed to make the victim look unreasonable if he reacted.
Nico knew that kind.
Lena could see it.
His anger was not sudden. It was recognition.
“Keep walking,” Nico said.
Declan lifted both hands. “Relax. I’m being friendly.”
Jace muttered, “Try harder.”
Declan looked at him briefly, amused, then his eyes shifted past Nico.
To Lena.
The moment his gaze landed on her, Nico’s entire posture changed.
Not dramatically.
Barely enough for anyone else to notice.
Lena noticed.
Declan did too.
That was the problem.
“Well,” Declan said, his smile turning bright and poisonous. “So the rumors are true.”
Lena kept her expression pleasant as he walked toward her.
She did not want to give him the satisfaction of stepping back.
“Nico Reyes and Lena Hart,” Declan said. “That’s a plot twist.”
Lena smiled. “Declan Vale. That’s a warning label.”
His brows lifted.
Behind him, Jace made a strangled sound that might have been a laugh.
Nico looked at her.
She did not look back.
If she looked at Nico, she might forget this was a public court and not a battlefield where she had already chosen a side.
Declan stopped in front of her, close enough to be rude but not close enough to justify calling him on it.
“You’re funny,” he said.
“You sound surprised.”
“I am. Coach’s daughters usually go for polite.”
“Maybe I’m broadening my brand.”
His smile sharpened. “With Reyes?”
Nico moved.
One step.
That was all.
Lena felt him behind her before she saw him. Heat and tension and the faint clean scent of athletic soap. Her body knew exactly where he was now, which was another problem she did not have time to unpack.
Declan’s eyes flicked over her shoulder.
“Protective,” he said. “That’s new.”
Nico’s voice came low behind her. “Bored?”
Declan looked back at him. “Just curious.”
“Try reading.”
“About you? I have. Everyone has.” His gaze slid to Lena again. “Though I’ll admit, the redemption romance angle was a nice touch.”
Lena’s smile did not move.
Inside, something cold opened.
He knew where to press.
Always.
“That sounds like something people say when they don’t understand good PR,” she said.
“Or when they understand it too well.”
Nico stepped beside her now. Not touching. Close enough that the space between their arms felt intentional.
Lena did not know if he meant it as protection or warning.
Possibly both.
Declan’s smile turned almost sympathetic. “Careful, Lena. Reyes has a habit of making pretty things look bad.”
The court went quiet.
Not fully.
But enough.
Enough for Lena to hear the blood rush in her ears.
Enough for Nico to go dangerously still.
There it was.
A polished sentence with a blade inside.
Lena looked at Declan for a long, silent second.
Then she let her smile soften.
“Oh, Declan,” she said. “Pretty things only look bad to people who mistake shine for value.”
His expression flickered.
Just once.
Nico made a sound beside her.
Not a laugh.
Not quite.
Something close enough to make Declan’s eyes narrow.
Then Coach Hart’s voice cut across the court.
“Reyes. Warm up.”
The command snapped the moment in half.
Nico did not move immediately.
His eyes stayed on Declan.
“Nico,” Lena said quietly.
He looked at her then.
A mistake.
Always.
His eyes were dark and furious, but beneath the fury was the same strain she had seen the first day. The same locked room. The same smoke.
For one second, the rest of the court vanished.
She wanted to ask him again.
What did Declan say?
What does he know?
How many times has he done this to you while everyone watched you react instead of him speak?
But Nico looked away.
He walked back toward the baseline.
Declan watched him go, smiling like he had taken the first point.
Lena hated him so much her teeth hurt.
“Nice meeting you properly, Lena,” Declan said.
“It wasn’t,” she replied.
This time, his smile did slip.
A little.
Good.
He turned and headed toward his team bench.
Talia appeared at Lena’s side with a tablet clutched to her chest. “You know, when I said get engaging content, I did not mean verbally duel the rival who started the biggest scandal of the semester.”
“He started it.”
“You are twenty-one years old.”
“So is he.”
Talia stared at her.
Lena sighed. “Fine. I’ll behave.”
“You say that with the confidence of someone lying.”
“I learned from athletes.”
Talia’s gaze softened slightly. “Be careful today.”
Lena looked toward Nico.
He had started warmups with Jace. Every swing was controlled. Too controlled. The kind of control that came from holding something back with both hands.
“I’m trying,” Lena said.
Talia followed her gaze. “Try harder.”
The invitational began under too-bright sunlight and too many phones.
Westbridge won the first doubles match cleanly. Jace and his partner celebrated with chest bumps and terrible dancing that Lena recorded for the team account because joy was easy content and required no ethical crisis.
Nico’s match was later.
Against Eastmont’s second seed, not Declan.
Which should have made it less tense.
It did not.
Declan sat courtside the entire time.
Watching.
Smiling.
Waiting.
Nico played beautifully for the first set. Cold. Precise. Merciless. He moved like anger had been sharpened into geometry. His serves landed deep. His returns cut low. Every point looked like a message he refused to speak out loud.
Lena filmed thirty seconds of the match, then stopped because her hand had started to shake.
“Your boyfriend is terrifying,” Maya said from beside her.
Lena nearly dropped her phone. “When did you get here?”