Chapter 22 #2
“I’m not afraid of your . . . What do Americans call it?”
“Germs?”
“Cooties,” I said flatly. As soon as I said the word, I wanted to take it back. Her smile fell for a second, before I spoke
again, trying desperately to move on. “But thanks, half sounds nice.”
The awkwardness dissipated as we ate, Chloe introducing me to the show she’d put on, explaining the backstory. We sat side by side, her bare thigh rubbing against mine, and not even thirty seconds would go by without her bringing up a new topic.
Have I ever visited Japan? Tried sushi? How I got into tennis, when I’d won my first match.
I wasn’t sure if it was borne out of nervousness, or the need to fill every bit of silence with new conversation, but I found
myself not hating it, enjoying the questions that she asked, watching her reaction to my answers.
We were halfway through a conversation about our favorite foods when the television went blank and the lights went out.
“Oh shit, I think the power must’ve gone out,” I said.
“I think I have something we can do,” she said, her expression turning light as she pushed herself up from the sofa, heading
to the small cabinet under the TV.
“I swear to God, Chloe, if you pull out a puzzle.” I laughed.
She shook her head, instead pulling out a box. Turning around, she held it proudly in her hands.
“Friendship bracelets?” I read from the box, before looking back at Chloe, a look of confusion across my face.
Were we one step away from calling this a sleepover and getting into a pillow fight?
“It’s cute, right?” She smiled, settling on the other side of the table. “Will keep us busy until the power comes back on.”
She opened up the box and began to set out the contents.
“Are you really avoiding going home so much that you’ll stay here and make friendship bracelets with me?” I still felt unclear
why she was hanging around, but I also was not complaining about it. As weird as it was to admit, I was having fun, being
with her.
“No.” She coughed. “It was you who said it takes less energy to be friends.”
I rolled my eyes, not believing her.
“Okay, so at first, I was avoiding the parents. I love them, I really do. But I’ve been fighting with my dad since the meeting. He wasn’t exactly thrilled that we—”
“You,” I interjected with a daring smile.
Chloe shot me a flat look, the corner of her mouth twitching as if she was fighting back a grin. “Fine. I took over. And honestly,
we were already arguing about me working with you. Or with anyone, really. But I trust Calvin.”
I nodded, not pressing further. Instead, I shifted in my seat, deciding to change the subject. “So . . . friendship bracelets.”
“It’s cute, okay? I bought the set last year but never got around to actually making them. The maid moved it out here a couple
months back.” She started to arrange the beads—some letters, some colors.
“Fine,” I said, settling down beside the coffee table. “I mean, what else are we going to do out here?”
“It’s better than playing Never Have I Ever again.” She caught me off guard with that one. That night, so much had spiraled
out of my control.
“That . . . is true.” I started to select the beads I wanted for my bracelet.
“See? I have good ideas,” she said, smugness creeping into her tone.
“On occasion.”
Chloe held out scissors and the elasticated string. “Can you measure my wrist?”
“Of course,” I said. My fingers brushed against her wrist as I wrapped the clear string around, the delicate skin soft under
my fingertips.
She moved suddenly, withdrawing her arm for a second. “Sorry, I just got a shiver.” Her voice breathless.
I froze, the string uncut, my brain scrambling for something casual to say. “Must be a draft,” I offered, glancing toward
the window as if the storm outside could explain the sudden shift in the air between us.
Her pink lips. Blue-green eyes that held a depth I could too easily swim in. A tendril of hair that was all too tempting to push behind her ear. Or curl around my finger, see if it held the twist when I let it go.
“Maybe.” Her gaze lingered on mine, as if she knew the truth. A silent acknowledgement of what was unfolding.
I swallowed down the lump in my throat, feeling myself getting sucked in again, as if every look, every word between us carried
some unspoken weight I couldn’t quite ignore.
“Here,” I said, holding out the uncut string. “Let me finish.”
She hesitated for a second before holding out her wrist again. Wrapping the elastic around her wrist, I tried my best to avoid
skin contact, but it felt unavoidable. Bumping knees, the graze of a steadying hand. I couldn’t tell if it was clumsiness
or magnetism.
“So, uh, how many of these do you think we will make? Surely it won’t take too long for the electricity to come back on,”
I said as I remeasured the string, making sure I had it right.
“Depends,” she said with a soft laugh. “How many people do you think we like enough to give a bracelet to?”
“Hmm, let’s see,” I teased. “There’s Scottie, Dylan . . . Calvin, maybe. That’s three.”
“Four if I count you,” she added, her tone casual, almost as if she had caught herself off guard with the comment.
My face turned hot. “Honored to make the short list.”
“You should be.”
With a snip, I cut the piece of string.
“There,” I said, leaning back.
Chloe smiled, taking the measured string from me. “Maybe I should put you on craft duty more often.”
“Careful,” I shot back, “or I’ll start charging for my services.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve overcharged me,” she retorted, her smirk widening, the spark of our usual banter slipping
back into place.
I laughed as I sat back down, partially grateful for the space opening up between us.
There was something about Chloe Murphy. She had this way of drawing me in, of making everything around her feel bigger, brighter, more charged.
It wasn’t only her confidence, though God knew she had enough of that to spare.
It was as if she had learned the right code to disarm me, her own defenses dropping in those fleeting, vulnerable moments that left me wondering if I’d imagined them.
Like now.
She was sitting cross-legged on the floor, threading beads onto a bracelet with the kind of focus she usually reserved for
match point. Her damp hair hung loose around her shoulders, and every so often she’d glance up at me, her expression unreadable.
It was maddening.
How was it that she could read me so easily, but off court she still felt like a mystery to me?
“Actually, maybe you should be banned from crafts judging from that hot mess,” she said suddenly, smirking as she nodded at
my tangled thread, a random assortment of beads strung together.
“I’m not that bad,” I argued, though my fumbling hands betrayed me.
“You’re worse than Calvin,” she teased. “He couldn’t even figure out how to tie his shoelaces until he was eight.”
My next words slipped out of my mouth without second thought. “Maybe I’m distracted.”
Chloe froze, a bead held between her fingers as her eyes snapped to mine. For a second, neither of us said anything.
“Distracted?” she repeated, her tone light, her gaze anything but.
I focused back on the bracelet as if my life depended on these tiny beads. “By the storm,” I lied. “And being stuck out here.
It’s not exactly what I had planned for today. I’m sure Calvin is already plotting how we need to make it up tomorrow.”
Her lips quivered into a knowing smile, but she let it go. Instead, she sent me a wink, adding, “Yeah, well, welcome to life
with me.”
We fell into a comfortable silence, both of us working on our bracelets, hers made up of blue and green beads that looked much better than mine.
“You know,” Chloe said, her voice soft but carrying a weight I wasn’t expecting. “In a few days, we’ll be back out there at
the DC Open, competing against each other.”
I glanced up, the knot I was working on suddenly feeling a lot more complicated than it needed to be. “Yeah,” I replied cautiously,
unsure where she was going with this. “Back to chasing points.”
Truthfully, I felt more ready for this run of matches than I had in a long time. Something in my body felt more under control,
as if the time resting with my friends and the fresh air rolling off the ocean had done me a world of good. It had only been
a few weeks since Wimbledon, but I was ready for this new challenge.
Especially if the new challenge was a 5'7" strawberry blonde.
She tilted her head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “It’s funny. Out there, we don’t even have to think
about it. We just play. But here, it’s different.”
“Different how?” My fingers paused on the thread.
“We don’t usually get this.” She looked between us. “Time to just relax. No crowds. No pressure. Just . . . us.”
She wasn’t wrong. Before, every interaction had been filtered through the lens of rivalry and ruled on by an umpire. Here,
in this quiet little house with the storm raging outside, it was only the two of us.
“I guess it’s kind of nice,” I admitted.
“Kind of?” A grin spread across her face.
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Too late.” A playful glint shone in her eyes. Chloe looked down at her half-finished bracelet. “Still, once we’re back out
there, I guess it’s all business again. Not much room for this.”
“What is this?” I wanted to ask. “Friendship? A temporary peace accord?”
“Maybe not,” I said carefully, “but it doesn’t mean it has to go away completely.”
Her eyes flicked up to meet mine, and for a moment, the air between us felt charged. “No, I guess it doesn’t.”
“On court, it’s fair game.”
“You think I’d dare to go easy on you?” Chloe asked, a knowing smile across her face. She hesitated. “Does it help if it wasn’t
ever personal for me?”
I closed my eyes and sucked in a deep breath. “But every loss, every win, it didn’t mean nothing. It was extremely personal.
It was my life, it was everything. I’m not sure if it will stop feeling that way, but I can keep it on court,” I explained.
I thought of Dylan and Scottie. When I played them, I didn’t hold a grudge. I left it all out there. And that was what I was
offering her.
Chloe nodded once. “It can stay on court.”
“Exactly.” I looked back at my bracelet, feeling the corners of my mouth tug upward. Whatever this was, I wasn’t ready to
name it, but I couldn’t let it go either.
She went back to her bracelet, but the tension lingered, an invisible thread tying us together in a way I wasn’t sure how
to untangle.
The worst part was, I wasn’t sure I wanted to.