Chapter 29
Inés
Sleepover—Hayley Kiyoko
I stared at the hotel ceiling, faintly illuminated by the streetlights sneaking through the curtains, contemplating exactly
how I’d gotten myself into this situation.
Chloe had called Calvin to check that the rooms hadn’t been mixed up. His confirmation that he had a king bed to himself sealed
our fate.
One bed.
Sharing a bed with Chloe Murphy? It tested every shred of my patience and self-control.
Selene had laughed when I’d called and told her about the room, and the family downstairs taking our photo, before telling me this was payback
for not allowing her to properly negotiate the contract.
“Are you still awake?” Chloe’s voice, hushed but undeniably mischievous, came from my right.
I rolled over, squeezing my eyes shut like I could will myself into unconsciousness. “You’re supposed to be asleep.”
In truth, I’d spent the past hour trying and failing to sleep. Every accidental touch, every shift of the mattress made me
hyperaware of her. The heat of her body. The sound of her breathing. Every detail was impossible to ignore.
“I can’t sleep,” she whispered.
I turned over, unable to suppress a groan. I could see the teasing sparkle in her eyes, the faint dusting of freckles across
her nose. Beautiful. Dangerous.
“You do realize Calvin’s going to kill us tomorrow if we don’t get any sleep.”
“I know,” she said, completely ignoring me as she pushed herself up on her elbows. “But are you hungry?”
I sighed, giving up on the hope of rest. “Falling asleep isn’t happening, is it?”
“Not a chance.” She flicked on the bedside lamp. “I saw a vending machine by the elevator. Let’s raid it.”
“Carbs and sugar?” I asked, sitting up reluctantly. “Calvin will love that.”
She grinned, sliding off the bed and heading to her suitcase. I tried not to notice the oversized T-shirt she wore as pajamas,
the hem brushing mid-thigh as she rummaged for shorts.
“Did anyone ever teach you to fold clothes?” I asked, glancing at the chaos spilling from her suitcase. Shoes and clothes
were scattered haphazardly, like a tornado had ripped through it.
“Nope. I was raised in a barn,” she replied cheerfully, pulling her hair into a loose ponytail. Her friendship bracelet glinted
in the light as she grabbed the key card and headed for the door.
“You coming?” she called, a sock-clad foot propping the door open.
“Someone has to make sure you don’t buy only sugar,” I said, catching up.
“Of course not,” she said, flashing a cheeky grin. “I like chips too.”
We walked down the quiet hallway, the dimmed lights casting a soft glow on the carpeted floor. Her hand swung too close to
mine, fingers brushing against my skin for the briefest moment. Instinctively, I pulled away, my pulse quickening.
She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye, her expression curious, maybe even amused. I covered my reaction with a quick motion, pretending to scratch my hand as if nothing had happened. Cool, calm, collected, as if I hadn’t freaked out over a split-second touch.
We reached the elevators, and just as she’d promised, two vending machines stood against the wall, glowing like beacons in
the quiet night. Chloe ran to them like a kid on Christmas morning, pressing both hands to the glass as she surveyed the snacks.
“Alright, then,” I said, motioning to the vending machine. “What’s on the menu?”
Chloe spent a few minutes pondering her choices, debating a chocolate bar or pack of gummies. Meanwhile, I leaned against
the wall and waited, watching her every movement.
“Are you seriously this indecisive?” I asked, trying not to laugh.
“This is a big decision,” she said solemnly, her eyes narrowing at a packet of gummy bears. “Don’t rush me.”
Moments like this, her unexpected softness, felt dangerously good. Too good. I watched her from behind, every movement of her body intoxicating. Lying in that bed next to her had been excruciating.
My gaze traveled down her thin T-shirt, her biceps only slightly covered by the oversized cotton. It reminded me of her strength,
how I admired that about her, wondering how she’d feel. If I could find a way to turn firm muscle into softness beneath my
fingers, if her sharper edges would melt.
“You okay there?” Chloe asked, her head turned towards me.
“Yeah.” I blinked, snapping out of the spell. “Yes. I’m fine.”
Except I wasn’t. Not even a little bit.
“First kiss?” Chloe sat cross-legged in front of me, a pile of snacks spread between us on the bedsheet like it was a midnight
picnic. Chloe, of course, had turned it into a game of truth or dare, though neither of us had the guts to actually pick dare.
“No.” I shook my head, grabbing another packet of gummies and tearing it open. I wasn’t even hungry, but if she was having
a midnight snack, so was I.
“Oh, come on,” Chloe replied, tossing a wrapper at me. “You have to tell me.”
“I do not.”
“I told you who my first crush was,” she whined, shoving me lightly.
I smiled up at her. “Yeah, and I’ll hold that over your head forever.”
“Look, everyone goes through a bad-boy phase.”
“I’m sure they do.”
“So?” She leaned closer, her expression pure mischief. “Who was it? I want all the juicy details.”
I sighed. “You know we’re going to be exhausted tomorrow.”
“We can sleep on the flight.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Now spill.”
I rolled my eyes but relented. “I was at a training camp.”
“Aw, a summer romance!” She clapped her hands together in mock excitement.
“Shut up. It was back in Spain.”
“Was she a good kisser? Did you fall madly in love? Does she have a name?”
“She was a good kisser. But I doubt I was.” I smiled. “Let’s say it wasn’t meant to be.”
Chloe’s grin widened. “I need details.”
“You’ve gotten all you’re going to get, greedy.”
“Ugh, so greedy.” She flopped back dramatically. “Fine, next question: If you had to play doubles with me for a year, how long before
you’d lose your mind?”
“It’s my turn to ask.” I leaned back on my elbows, lying side by side with her.
“I don’t count your last answer,” she said, her head turning towards me. “I didn’t even get her name.”
“Because it doesn’t matter.”
“Maybe it matters to me.” She smirked. Silently, I asked myself why. “What if I want to call her up?”
I snorted. “Why? To compare notes?” Immediately, I regretted bringing up the kiss. It was a year ago, and it felt like the dust had settled since we’d argued. Panicked, I looked over at her, but she had taken it in her stride.
Chloe laughed, shaking her head. “I could start an I Kissed Inés Costa support group. We can all chip in for therapy.”
“Ouch.”
“Sorry. That was harsh.” Chloe’s voice softened, and when I looked at her, there was something genuine in her eyes. Then slowly,
her gaze shifted down. “But I do think about it.”
Did she really think about it too, with every casual glance and touch? For the first time, I realized I wasn’t alone, like
maybe she also found herself craving another taste, another brush of her lips against mine.
“And that night?” I swallowed, realizing that every moment with her was a repeat. “In Washington?”
Another bedroom, another near miss. How did we keep ending up in the same place, her face entirely too close to mine. Those
lips entirely too tempting.
“That too.” Her voice rasped. “Do you?”
I hesitated, my breath catching on the confession. But if she was being honest, then I could be too.
“I don’t know how to stop thinking about it.”
Her lips parted slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face. “What if I said I didn’t want you to stop?”
“Then I might ask why I never heard from you after the party,” I murmured. “You left, and then . . . nothing.”
It felt like an old wound to pick, healed over, but for me, it was still there, my ego still bruised. It got even worse when
she ended up on the arm of one of my best friends.
Chloe shifted back slightly, the distance striking. “That is a fair question.”
“You never called. And then every time I saw you after that, you ignored me. And the next thing I know, you’re dating my doubles
partner.”
Her cheeks flushed. “A complication.”
“We seem to be stacking those up,” I attempted to joke, but the tension between us was coiled too tight, as if there was no
more oxygen in the room.
“I wasn’t in a good headspace that night. I don’t want you to think I regret that kiss. I don’t.” Her voice grew steadier.
“I don’t know what your Spanish lover would report, but it was a damn good kiss.”
I chuckled softly. “It was.”
“I was raised to see other players as the enemy, on and off the court. That party? It was the first one I’d ever gone to.
I think I even snuck out of the hotel to get there. I was overwhelmed, and then . . . you walked in. You made me laugh, got
me comfortable. And I don’t know, you were just so . . . beautiful. Maybe I was a little lonely. Selfish too.”
My chest tightened at the memory. I’d hated that I’d hung on to it, but there had been something about it that my mind refused
to let go, a grip so tight that it could’ve drawn blood from a stone. “If you could go back and stop it, would you?”
“I don’t want to say yes. But maybe things would’ve been easier between us if it hadn’t happened.”
“Maybe.” I nodded. “But you still would’ve been a bitch on court.”
“And you still would’ve been in my way.” She smiled softly, her gaze lifting from mine, moving around the bedroom, her messy
suitcase still shoved in the corner. It didn’t matter to me anymore. I could get used to her mess. “I think we would’ve ended
up here no matter what,” she said.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” she said, and swallowed. “I do.”
“I think I like that,” I confessed. “Makes this feel inevitable.”
How was I supposed to sleep after this? My heart pounded against my rib cage, my lungs tight as if wrapped in a band, every
breath a struggle.
As if on cue, her head leaned into view, her gaze sharp and curious. “You know I’m technically your boss, right?”
“I mean, we shook hands,” I pointed out, nodding towards the hallway. “I could walk out that door tomorrow.”
Something in her gaze flickered, a glint of something under the stormy blue surface. “You wouldn’t, though. Right?”
I was all too aware of how tangled we’d become. Hitting partners, business arrangement, rivals. What else was there to add
to that ever-growing list?
“No, Chloe.” Her name fizzed on my tongue like champagne bubbles. “I wouldn’t.”
Her reaction unfolded slowly, like the strings of a racket slackening, her entire body relaxing. “Good.”
“I think that makes it my turn to ask a question.”
“You might be right.” Chloe’s lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile, but close enough to soften the tension
etched in her posture.
I didn’t look away. “What are you most afraid of?”
She arched a brow, the hint of a challenge sparking in her expression. “Getting deep, are we, Inés?”
“I figured it was time to bring out the big guns.”
Chloe leaned closer, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “Maybe I’m afraid of you.”
The air between us shifted, crackling with something electric. I laughed softly, but it was more with nerves than amusement.
“Me? What could I possibly do to scare you?”
“You . . .” She trailed off, her smirk fading like the last glow of sunlight before dusk. “You disrupt everything about my
life.”
I didn’t speak, too afraid that anything I said might shatter the fragile honesty stretching the small distance between us.
“It’s like you’ve strolled in and . . . every part of it stopped making sense.” Her voice wavered, but she held my gaze. “I’m
not used to that. I’ve spent years building this. My routines, my focus, my plan. And then you come along, and suddenly, I’m
questioning all of it.”
I blinked, startled by the rawness in her words. “I didn’t mean to—”
“I know.” She cut me off with a soft shake of her head. “That’s the worst part. You’re not even trying, but it’s like you’ve turned everything upside down. Out there, I can win. But when we train together, it’s like I’m chasing you, and I hate it.”
The vulnerability in her words hit me like a punch to the gut. This was Chloe. The fierce, unshakable, always-in-control Chloe,
and here she was, letting me past her facade.
“And it’s not just tennis,” she continued, her voice dropping. “It’s you. The way you look at me, the way you make me . . .”
She hesitated, her teeth catching her bottom lip. “The way you make me feel.”
“And how do I make you feel?” I knew how she made me feel. A fury that burned like red hot lava meeting an ocean of green
and blue. At first, it had been a basic chemical reaction. Water turning to steam, lava cooling and solidifying to impenetrable
rock.
But now, with rolling waves, she’d smoothed me down. We’d found a way to coexist. A way to support each other, and now I didn’t
know how to be without the tides, the coolness in her touch.
“Fuzzy,” she joked.
My eyebrows shot up in question, the word slipping out before I could stop it. “Fuzzy?”
“Like static electricity,” she said. “Buzzing. Alive. It’s hard to explain.” She rolled onto her side, meeting my gaze again.
A low pull in my gut at the closeness of her body, at the movement on the mattress, brought me fractionally closer. I’d fallen
under her spell.
Chloe stared at me, the emotion held in her green eyes unreadable as her gaze searched my face, lingering on my lips. For
a moment, I was sure she might shut this down entirely. Pull back and call it another mistake.
She opened her mouth, and I prepared myself to hear the words, to take the blow.
Instead, she whispered, “It will be easier to show you.”
I blinked, trying to process what I thought she’d just said.
One of her hands rested on my knee as she shifted her weight forward, the skin-to-skin contact anchoring me to her.
The other hand slid up my jaw, her face so close to mine, her hair brushed against my cheek, almost tickling.
But I didn’t move a muscle, the cogs still turning, still catching up.
But when her lips finally met mine, I understood. My entire body buzzed, like the voltage was slowly increasing on an electric
shock. It flowed through my body, the current under my skin, stretching right out to my very fingertips.
My hands pushed her hair back from her face, gliding down her sharp cheekbones, nudging under her chin and pulling her closer,
deeper into me.
Chloe moaned against me, the noise vibrating through to my bones. She tasted sweet, just like I’d remembered. Her hands drifted
around my body, pressing against the small of my back, fingernails pressing into the skin.
Lips moved against each other, my body pressing entirely against hers. She felt so delicate, so precious. I was almost worried
she’d slip through my fingers again.
She lifted her lips from mine, the briefest of pauses, and her eyes had never looked so clear. “Did you feel it?”
“Y-yeah.” My voice was a rasp. “I did.”