Chapter 18 The Wrong Person Watching
L ena found Nico where angry boys went when they did not know how to be afraid out loud.
Court One.
After hours.
Under the floodlights.
Of course.
By now, she should have expected it. Nico Reyes did not run toward comfort. He ran toward white lines, hard surfaces, and the kind of silence that asked nothing from him except another serve.
The campus was quiet when she reached the tennis complex, her sneakers damp from the mist still clinging to the brick paths. Her father’s voice had followed her all the way from his office.
Let him go.
As if Nico were a storm that would pass if everyone just closed the windows.
As if Lena had not spent the last two weeks watching people mistake his silence for guilt, his anger for violence, his fear for arrogance.
As if she could simply let him walk away with another threat curled around his neck.
The anonymous message still glowed in her mind.
If Nico wants the truth buried, he should stop making it so easy to dig.
Someone was watching him.
Someone knew about his wrist.
Someone knew about Declan.
Someone knew enough about his mother to make him look like he might shatter if the wrong sentence hit the right place.
And Nico, because he was Nico, had decided the obvious solution was to disappear and bleed quietly under court lights.
Lena pushed open the gate.
It creaked.
Nico did not turn around.
“I know you’re there,” he said.
His voice carried across the court, low and rough and exhausted.
Lena stepped inside. “Good. Saves me the dramatic entrance.”
He stood at the baseline, racket in his left hand.
Not his right.
Her stomach sank.
“Nico.”
“Don’t.”
“That wrist needs rest.”
“It’s resting.”
“You’re holding a racket.”
“With the other hand.”
“That is not the loophole you think it is.”
He finally turned.
Sweat darkened his shirt at the collar. His hair was messy, damp at his forehead. His right wrist was wrapped, but his hand hung stiffly at his side like even gravity irritated it.
His face was cold.
Too cold.
The kind of cold that meant everything underneath was burning.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said.
Lena walked closer. “You keep saying that.”
“You keep ignoring it.”
“I’m consistent.”
“You’re reckless.”
“No.” She stopped near the service line. “You are reckless. I’m concerned.”
His laugh was sharp enough to cut. “That what we’re calling it now?”
The words hit, but she did not flinch.
Not this time.
She was too tired to perform softness around his fear.
“I’m calling it what it is,” she said. “Someone is threatening you, digging into your family, leaking things about your injury, and you walked out of my father’s office like you were about to go handle it alone with pure rage and a bad wrist.”
His jaw tightened. “I didn’t ask for a lecture.”
“Good, because this is not a lecture.” She stepped closer. “This is me asking you not to hand them exactly what they want.”
His eyes flashed. “You don’t know what they want.”
“Yes, I do. A reaction. Another clip. Another reason to say they were right about you.”
The silence after that was brutal.
Nico looked away first.
The racket hung from his left hand, useless now. He was not practicing. Not really. He was standing in the place that usually made sense to him and realizing even the court could not protect him from being known badly.
Lena’s anger softened, even though she tried to hold on to it.
“Nico,” she said quietly. “Talk to me.”
His throat moved.
“No.”
The word was not hard this time.
It was tired.
That almost undid her.
She walked to the net and stopped with it between them.
A ridiculous barrier.
A necessary one.
“You told me I make things useful,” she said. “Maybe you were right.”
His gaze came back to hers.
“I like plans,” she continued. “I like captions and angles and knowing what the next three steps are before anyone asks. I like fixing things because if I’m fixing things, I don’t have to feel them.”
Something shifted in his face.
Not enough.
Enough.
“But this?” She gestured between them, at the court, at the night, at the mess breathing around them. “This stopped being useful a while ago.”
Nico went still.
Lena’s pulse kicked.
She had not meant to say it like that.
Or maybe she had.
Maybe she was finally tired of saying almost-truths and hoping he would understand the parts she was too scared to hand him.
His voice came low. “What is it, then?”
The question moved across the net and stood between them.
Lena could have answered a dozen safe ways.
Complicated.
Confusing.
A problem.
A mistake.
Instead, she looked at him and told the truth badly.
“I don’t know.”
His mouth twisted. “That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only honest one I have.”
The floodlights hummed overhead.
Nico looked down at the net tape, his face shadowed, his right hand flexing once before he caught himself.
“Honest,” he said. “That’s expensive too.”
“Everything with you is expensive.”
His eyes lifted.
She should not have said that.
But there was no taking it back now.
So she kept going.
“Trust is expensive. Truth is expensive. Touch is expensive. Caring about you is apparently a full financial crisis.”
For one stunned second, Nico just stared at her.
Then his mouth moved.
Not quite a smile.
But close enough to make her heart ache.
“You done?”
“No.”
His almost-smile faded.
Lena gripped the top of the net. “I am scared too.”
The words came out small.
Too small for the size of them.
Nico’s face changed.
“I’m scared my father is right,” she admitted.
“I’m scared I’m too close. I’m scared I started this for the wrong reasons and now every right feeling is tangled up in something ugly.
I’m scared you’ll keep shutting me out until I have no choice but to let you.
I’m scared you’ll decide leaving is noble and call it protection. ”
His eyes darkened.
“Nico, I don’t need you to give me every secret tonight.” Her throat tightened. “But I need you to stop punishing me for wanting to stand beside you.”
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then he dropped the racket.
It hit the court with a flat, final sound.
Lena’s breath caught.
Nico walked toward the net.
Slowly.
Like every step cost him something he was not sure he could afford.
He stopped opposite her, the net still between them. Close enough now that she could see the exhaustion beneath his eyes. Close enough to see the pulse beating at his jaw.
“I don’t know how to do this,” he said.
Her fingers tightened on the net. “Do what?”
“Let someone stand there.”
The words were rough.
Not pretty.
Not easy.
Perfect.
Lena’s chest hurt.
“You don’t have to know tonight,” she said. “You just have to not walk away.”
His eyes searched hers.
Then his hand came up.
His left hand.
Careful.
Slow.
He touched her fingers where they curled over the net tape.
Not fully holding.
Not yet.
Just the backs of his knuckles against hers.
The smallest surrender.
Lena stopped breathing.
“Nico,” she whispered.
His eyes dropped to her mouth.
The air changed instantly.
No.
Not changed.
Caught fire.
He looked back up, and there was no pretending either of them misunderstood what was happening now.
No cameras.
No donors.
No Savannah.
No father.
No strategy.
Only the dark court, the humming lights, the net between them, and all the rules they had made because both of them were terrified of this exact moment.
Lena should have stepped back.
She did not.
Nico’s voice was barely above a breath. “Tell me not to.”
Her heart slammed.
He was giving her the choice.
Again.
Always when it mattered.
Lena looked at his mouth.
Then his eyes.
“No.”
Something broke in his expression.
Not control.
Restraint.
He moved around the net so fast her pulse barely had time to catch up.
Then he was in front of her.
Close.
Too close.
Exactly close enough.
His left hand lifted to her face, stopping just before he touched her.
“Lena.”
Her name in his mouth sounded like the last warning before impact.
She stepped into him.
That was answer enough.
Nico kissed her.
Not like the ballroom.
Not for phones.
Not sudden, not strategic, not wrapped in applause and scandal.
This kiss was quiet.
Deep.
Devastating.
His mouth found hers with a restraint that shook at the edges. Like he was still trying to be careful. Like wanting her terrified him more than losing control ever had.
Lena’s hands went to his shirt, fingers curling in the fabric. He made a low sound against her mouth, and the last careful part of her vanished.
She kissed him back like she had been holding her breath for days.
Maybe weeks.
Maybe her entire life.
Nico’s left hand slid into her hair. His right stayed carefully away from her body, and the tenderness of that restraint nearly ruined her more than the kiss itself.
She broke away just enough to breathe.
His forehead touched hers.
Both of them were shaking.
“This is a bad idea,” he said.
Lena laughed softly, breathless and near tears. “You say that about everything.”
“I mean it this time.”
“So do I.”
His thumb brushed her cheek.
“Then why aren’t you leaving?” he asked.
The question was not a challenge.
It was fear.
Lena looked up at him.
“Because I’m tired of being easy to scare.”
His eyes closed.
For one second, he looked like those words had hit somewhere too deep.
Then he kissed her again.
This time, there was no hesitation.
Lena melted into him, and Nico’s arm came around her waist, pulling her close with a careful kind of hunger. Her back met the fence near the gate, cool metal pressing through her sweatshirt while his body blocked the night air.
Everything in her narrowed to him.
His mouth.
His breath.
His hand in her hair.
The way he kissed like silence had finally found somewhere else to go.
She did not know how long they stayed like that.
Long enough for the world to disappear.
Long enough for her phone to buzz once in her pocket and go ignored.
Long enough for Nico to pull back and look at her like the fake relationship had become the least false thing in his life.
His voice was rough. “This changes things.”
Lena’s laugh came out unsteady. “Very observant.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.”
His eyes searched hers, and she saw it then.
Not regret.
Fear of regret.
Fear that wanting her would become another thing the world could use.
She touched his face. “Don’t run.”
His jaw tightened beneath her palm.
“I’m trying.”
“I know.”
The words settled between them, quiet and fragile.
Then somewhere beyond the fence, a sound cut through the night.
A soft click.
Lena froze.
Nico’s body went rigid against hers.
Another sound.
A rustle near the hedge beside the outer walkway.
Nico turned sharply, stepping in front of Lena so fast it was instinct.
“Who’s there?” he called.
No answer.
Only the faint retreat of footsteps on wet pavement.
Then silence.
Lena’s blood went cold.
Her phone buzzed again.
Slowly, with fingers that no longer felt steady, she pulled it from her pocket.
One new notification.
The gossip account had posted nothing.
Not yet.
But the anonymous account had sent a message.
No photo.
No name.
Just six words.
Careful who you kiss in private.
Lena looked up at Nico.
His face had gone terrifyingly still.
Behind them, the court lights hummed over the place where they had finally stopped pretending.
And somewhere in the dark, someone had watched.