Chapter 14
Inés
My Body ft Your Lips—The Beaches
The sun was edging up past the horizon when I crawled out of my bed, the early light finding its way through a gap I’d left
in the curtains, my head thumping with the beginnings of a hangover.
What had happened last night?
After our little dip, the group had stayed up late, sitting again by the outside fire and chatting until we called it a night.
And despite a quick shower, I could still smell the lingering salty ocean in my hair, still remember the bone-deep chill of
the water. The way Chloe’s skin had glowed under the moonlight, every inch of it as she stripped next to me on the beach lingering
through the wine-stained memory.
I remembered how she told me that she and Henrik had broken up. And the way I was not sad to hear that piece of news. Not
even a little bit.
Maybe it was relief that I wouldn’t have to watch them be all cutesy together, hating myself for hating the way she laughed
when he leaned over and whispered something in her ear. The jealousy that had threatened to eat me up from the inside out.
But after last night, the weight I usually felt when I thought about her had lessened significantly.
Like I’d found a way to let go of the anger I’d been holding on to.
I didn’t want to think about it anymore, the dryness of my throat pulling me out of bed, sneaking downstairs in only my thin cotton pj’s for some fresh water.
Opening the fridge, I grabbed a water, nearly emptying it completely. I wasn’t used to drinking this much, usually limiting
myself to one glass of wine in order to stay fit to keep up with my schedule. But it felt good to break out a little, to really
take a moment and relax for a few days.
Life had been travel, tournament, train, repeat. For years that had been fun, even enjoyable. Tennis was what I loved, and
it was hard to hate any of that when you had a certain level of success. But take that success away, and add in injury and
loneliness, and the system quickly becomes draining. I missed my family dearly, and the large gatherings that came with having
many siblings, and the love we shared for food and wine.
I grabbed a second bottle, closing the fridge behind me, before turning to find some semblance of breakfast, raiding some
of the pastries Scottie had bought.
“Hungry?” I turned around, food practically hanging out of my mouth, and found Chloe standing in the doorway. Her face was
flushed pink across her nose and cheeks, stray tendrils of hair stuck to her face, the rest tied back in a ponytail, pale
legs uncovered by shorts.
I chewed awkwardly, covering my mouth with a hand as she lingered, waiting for my response. “You’re up?”
She shrugged, stepping inside the kitchen. “I couldn’t sleep so I went for a run.”
Chloe reached over to the coffee maker, pulling out a container of grounds and filling up the machine.
“I thought this was supposed to be a week off from training,” I said.
She turned, looking over her shoulder with a sly smile. “And that’s why I only did 5k.”
“Oh yes.” I couldn’t help the teasing smile growing across my lips. “A nice relaxing 5k to take the edge off.”
Her attention returned to the machine, the complex aroma of coffee filling the air. “It’s nice. Clears the head.”
I didn’t agree with my peers about the therapy of a run. I had always preferred the inside of a gym, weights and the small
repetitive movements that built towards the skills I needed on court. In those, I could lose myself a little, find my focus.
But hungover? That sounded close to torture.
“Want some coffee?” Chloe asked, the jug now full.
“Sure, thanks.”
She opened up the cupboard above the coffee maker, finding it empty, before moving on to another, trying to locate the mugs.
Silently, I stepped close, going to the last cupboard.
“Oh, thanks,” she said, taking two out from beside me, her body so close to mine, I could feel the hot post-run heat radiating
from her. I swallowed uncomfortably, stepping to the side. But instead, I found myself closer than ever as she followed in
my direction, both of us colliding with each other, the empty mugs held carefully in her hands the only thing keeping us apart.
Her eyes caught on mine, my panic at our proximity reflected back to me in her gaze.
“Sorry,” she muttered, tearing her gaze away, stepping backwards.
“It’s fine,” I grumbled, also increasing the distance between us. I turned my focus to the fridge as she spun around, heading
back to the coffee maker.
Grabbing the carton of milk, I turned back towards her, gulping as I caught sight of how she looked in those shorts, the curve
of her strong, thick thighs impossible to ignore. So distracting that I ran right into the back of her.
As if the largest kitchen I’d ever seen had become the smallest in her company.
“Shit, sorry,” I apologized, sweat appearing on my brow. “I was trying to pass the milk.”
She smiled weakly. “Thanks.”
She leaned one hip against the counter, pouring the milk into her coffee. Not a single hint of tiredness clung to her, despite
the late night. Meanwhile, I felt like a train wreck, struggling to keep my movements fluid as my body ached.
“You’re looking fresh for someone who almost drowned last night,” I muttered.
Chloe chuckled, now picking out a pastry for herself. “You were the one who almost drowned. I was perfectly fine.”
I didn’t bother to argue with that, instead turning back to the island, pulling up a chair to sit opposite her. The distance
across the marble felt safe, but as I got comfortable, I realized the danger of having to look straight at her.
She pushed my plate over to me, her fingers brushing mine this time, the lightest touch, but enough that it sent a little
shiver down my spine.
“So Scottie and Dylan looked dangerous yesterday,” I said, recalling their landslide wins against their opposing teams.
“Yeah,” she said, her gaze sliding over to mine. “But it wouldn’t be any fun if it was easy.”
“Sure,” I said, taking another sip of coffee to steady myself. “So, are you going to stop fighting me for the ball this time?”
“I’m going to try.” She raised her mug to take a sip, catching instead on the incredulous look I was giving her. “Hey—it’s
an improvement!”
I hummed. “I guess I can’t complain about that.” I took a moment, before adding, “I want this final, Chloe. I don’t want to
give up on a trophy.”
“You have seen the trophy, right?” Chloe said. “It’s tiny. It’s the kind you give out to kids on sports days.”
“A trophy is a trophy,” I said. “And it deserves to be in my collection.”
I knew she’d understand the hunger. The drive to win. I’d gone two years without feeling that metal in my hands, and now I
felt starved. Desperate to feel that rich reward again.
I raised my mug towards hers.
“To being and acting like teammates,” I said. Her hand held out her own mug, almost meeting me halfway, before hesitating, pulling back a fraction
as her gaze slid back to me.
Those eyes, rings of deep green and blue, were unforgettable.
“To victory,” she added.
I nodded, closing the space, the dull chink of porcelain ringing in the air. “To victory.”