Chapter 11 #2
She stood up then, straightening her legs on the exhale and moving around to where the rest of the group was still admiring Reese’s dress.
After Grant, she’d gone through what many would call a “post-breakup phase.” There had been a men’s player she knew peripherally on the tour, who’d looked like he’d won the lottery when they’d run into one another in Italy, late at night on the courts, and Sydney had made her intentions clear.
There had been a woman she’d met in a bar in Prague after losing her third round match, who seemed to have zero interest in tennis but had talked nonstop about her love of old movies .
But they had been an escape, a chance to get out of her own head and use her body more than her brain.
She’d stopped going down that path because it hadn’t made her feel better after, the fact that she was using a warm body to quell the falling, floundering feeling that persisted whenever she’d stepped off the court.
So she’d stepped off the court less and less, throwing all of her focus and energy into training.
It had worked. Until it hadn’t.
And now here she was, with no tennis career and no love life, staring longingly at a woman she was playing pretend with, in a situation that made Romeo and Juliet feel like a very straightforward love story.
“You really like it?” Reese asked, and Sydney already knew before looking up that the question was directed at her.
She could feel her own flush now. She could do nothing but answer honestly when their eyes met, Reese looking at her with genuine curiosity.
“You look incredible,” she said, appreciation bordering on reverence on full display in her tone.
She cleared her throat, her blush deepening. It was almost difficult to look at Reese, who was staring at her in this adorably innocent way, like she truly held Sydney’s opinion in the highest regard.
Unable to lean into the moment or run fleeing from it, she turned her attention to Brynn instead. “Thank you for not being one of those women who insists on putting their bridesmaids in hideous dresses so they don’t take away from their special day .”
Brynn, to her credit, looked horrified. “People do that?”
What a sweet, simple woman. Sydney truly couldn’t understand how she’d wound up with someone like Grant, given it was becoming clear that her guileless demeanor wasn’t an act.
And though Sydney may not have moved through adulthood with a traditional set of female friends, she’d seen firsthand what women could be like, especially on the tour.
Psychological warfare was real.
Once her sponsorship attention had exceeded her skill level—a fact that she was honest enough with herself to admit—she’d basically been iced out of any chance at real friendships.
Regardless of what her magazine interviews led people to believe, she wasn’t exactly popular with the other competitors.
It had made her all the more willing to fall back into the comfort of Grant, to focus on doing what she could on the courts, knowing that her future after her career ended was already secured.
But it had been lonely, and she’d missed having a friend like Hallie in close proximity every single day.
She reminded herself, yet again, to return her friend’s text messages, the count of which, the last time she’d checked her phone, was now up to about two dozen.
“Good, yes?” Marcella said, cutting through the din of Sydney’s thoughts and the light chatter that was happening around her.
Everyone nodded in unison.
“Margie, do you want to meet me out front?” Marcella asked, presumably to settle up the bill.
“I’ll come, too,” Brynn said, picking up her small clutch from the coffee table set between the loveseat and chairs.
Margie put her arm on Sharon’s shoulder to get her attention. “Sharon, they have some lovely dresses on display out front. Do you want to peruse them before we head out?”
“Sure,” Sharon agreed before turning to her daughter. “You really do look incredible, Reese.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Finally, Reese looked back up at Sydney as the last footsteps disappeared out of earshot and the dressing area’s door closed behind them. “Mind helping me out of this?” she asked, already moving back toward the fitting room.
Sydney needed to shake herself out of her stupor. Like, immediately.
All she could hear was the rustle of the curtain that separated the fitting room from the small area in front of it, which Reese left open as she stepped inside to where her clothing was carefully folded on a small chair.
Oh, and the sound of her own heart, beating a wildly unhealthy staccato.
Reese pulled the few locks of hair that had escaped off the nape of her neck, exposing the dress’s gold zipper. “Unzip me?” she asked, her voice a little more breathy than Sydney had expected.
It sent a shiver down her spine as she glided her hands up and gently encircled the small, gold piece of metal. The zipper moved like butter, and though she tried to go slowly, so as to not plunge Reese unexpectedly into nudity, the zipper teeth were unfastened within a second.
“Done,” she said. She stepped back to give Reese space. Reese’s hand was wrapped around the front of the dress to hold it up. “Do you want me to wait outside?”
Reese let her dress drop, and it pillowed into a gentle pile at her feet as she stepped away from it. “I’ve seen you almost naked, so it seems only fair at this point.”
Sydney nodded, unable to look away from Reese’s soft back, which was dotted with light freckles that Sydney wanted to map into constellations.
“Fair,” she repeated slowly, unable to come up with a coherent thought.
Reese continued to move around the small room, putting the clothing back on that she’d been wearing earlier this morning. When she’d successfully fastened her bra and slid on her pants, she turned to face Sydney, her face flushed.
Sydney’s stare dropped lower than she was proud of, transfixed by the sight of Reese’s nipples pebbled into little points, visible through the lace of the garment.
“Seems like everyone’s officially bought it,” Reese said, pulling her shirt over her head.
“Yeah,” Sydney said dumbly. They weren’t the only ones .
If Reese had pushed her against the wall, she’d have surrendered happily.
And if Reese had wanted the same in return, Sydney could already anticipate how her fingers would trace the softness of Reese’s thighs.
How she’d work her arm around to Reese’s back and push her fingers insistently into her skin to close the inches of space between them.
Her long leg, sliding between Reese’s, would provide just the right angle to push upward, and she was already imagining how Reese’s head would keel back before thumping softly against the wall.
She wondered what it would feel like to have Reese’s warm breath mingled with her own, how their bodies would fit together, developing a rhythm, the way they’d found one on the court earlier today.
Sydney wanted it. So much so that she hadn’t realized she’d stepped forward, looking up to find Reese flush with the wall at the same time she registered her fingertips trailing gently along the small patch of bare skin between her pants and shirt.
“Sydney?” The soft, husky tone in Reese’s voice caught her off guard, and she looked up to meet wide, brown eyes. Reese’s chest was rising and falling deeply.
Sydney blinked once. Then twice, as her mind started to come back into her body.
“I’m sorry. I got caught up in the moment,” she said honestly, shaking the wisps of desire from her thoughts, even if her body hadn’t yet gotten the memo.
She took a step back, dropping her hand to her side.
Sure, they were both consenting adults who could do whatever they wanted. But if it happened, Sydney didn’t want it to be like this, rushed and hurried in the fitting room of a dress shop. It made her feel like it was an illicit affair, and that wasn’t what she wanted.
Especially not with Reese.
Reese used the room created when Sydney had moved back to shift sideways, creating even more space between them.
“Right, makes sense,” Reese said before glancing around the fitting room, no longer meeting Sydney’s eyes. “Are you ready to head out front? We have the rest of what I’m sure will be an eventful day ahead of us—a guarantee if the Devereuxs are involved.”
Sydney extended her arm. “Lead the way.”
As she trailed behind Reese out of the fitting room, she wondered if she’d just made a huge mistake.
The rest of the day had been weird. It was the only way Sydney could describe it.
When they’d returned from the dress fitting, Tripp was nowhere to be found.
He’d made up a flimsy excuse to Stan about an urgent issue with one of the properties, stating that it would be better if he went personally instead of sending Grant.
He’d added that he wanted to make sure his son was able to enjoy his weekend with his fiancée’s family, which is how Sydney had definitely known that he was lying.
She hadn’t seen a single, altruistic deed from Tripp Devereux since she’d met him.
Interestingly enough, the facts of the story had all been relayed by Stan with gusto as he’d manned the grill, willing to replay the events in what she assumed was almost word-for-word detail.
She loved a man who knew the power of good gossip, but she also sensed that he hadn’t quite believed the story either.
Reese, to her credit, had seemed relieved, and the remaining group had all gone on to have a relatively enjoyable evening, which was, in Sydney’s opinion, the weirdest part of the whole situation.
Sharon had opened up by dessert, discussing with Margie their respective philanthropic endeavors and laughing like old friends once the first bottle of wine they’d been sharing was empty.
As they’d all said good night in the living room, where Sydney, Reese, and Stan had just finished performing a three-person massacre when they’d been teamed up in charades, Sydney was finding it difficult to remember a more enjoyable night in recent memory.