Chapter 3
BLUE-EYED GHOSTS
I’m not sure if I want to listen to what she has to say. That’s the main reason why I decided not to go home to Jersey this weekend. The apartment in Manhattan feels more like home nowadays. It’s the only other place besides the court where I find true peace.
Interacting with my mom corners me into defensive mode, so ending our conversation with her last text might be a better idea. She congratulated me, and that should suffice. I wish I could go about my day without expecting her to call me.
The doorbell rings, and Gemma squeals, throwing herself into my arms the second I open the door.
We haven’t seen each other in months. She just got back from South Korea, where she spent most of the summer visiting her dad’s side of the family, and I’ve been busy training my ass off and traveling.
With everything that went down yesterday, I didn’t get to spend any time with her at the event.
I missed her.
Gemma walks in carrying her favorite hot pink YSL bag, rolling a small suitcase behind her. Her short, straight, jet-black hair bounces against her neck. She’s a tiny, cute little thing who’s always dressed to impress, and today is no exception. But there’s something different about her.
“Did you get your boobs done?” I ask, shutting the door. I can’t help but stare at the perky cleavage peeking through her white blouse. She drops her bag on the living room couch and squats on the floor, heels and all, to unzip the mystery luggage.
I’m wearing an oversized gray Yankees jersey over black cycling shorts and mid-calf retro socks—one of my go-to lounging outfits.
I know Liam’s coming over, but he’s rarely seen me in anything other than sportswear or casual clothes.
I let my long dark brown hair down and sprayed some perfume to keep it cute.
I’m not in the best mood to dress up. It’s nothing but tape night and pizza.
Gemma looks down at her blouse and laughs. “A lot has happened during the summer.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, hugging one of the throw pillows as I sit down. “Did you go under the knife or not?”
“We’re seventeen!” she says with a scoffing laugh. “I would never!”
I lift a brow at her because I know damn well she would.
“Okay, okay. I would. But these babies are all mine, I swear. They just … blossomed.”
Blossomed, indeed. You can’t miss them. They stand out too much from her petite frame, but she looks great.
Gemma starts pulling stuff from her bag and places everything on the large coffee table: face masks, a million shades of nail polish, cotton rounds, hand towels, nail files, and a large cucumber.
“What’s all this?”
“Spa day, of course.” She wiggles her brows.
Of course.
“I’m going to grab some water for you to sink your toes in for a while. We have to soften those calluses. And before you start complaining, the cucumber’s mine. I know you’ll need your eyes if you’re going to torture yourself going over yesterday’s tape.”
I’m about to complain about how my feet are callus-free and perfectly fine when the doorbell rings.
“Who’s that?” a wide-eyed Gemma asks, her voice pitching as she stops cold on her way to the kitchen.
“It’s Liam,” I reply, standing up. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you he was coming, but I haven’t seen him in a while and—”
“Oh, okay,” she says, relieved. “We can hang.”
I open the door as Gemma fills the small foot tub she brought for the pedicures. Liam looks so handsome, and he smells even better. His eyes perfectly match his sun-kissed, light-brown hair, which is impeccably styled. And those long, full, and curved eyelashes melt me every time I see him.
“Ah! You look lovely,” Liam says in that cute accent of his, kissing my lips afterward. “I brought pepperoni pizza as promised.” He hands me a new purple notebook with a matching pen. “Hey, Gemma.”
Liam is the sweetest. His mother is from London, and his father is Australian. He grew up in Sydney and spent a lot of time at Bondi Beach, where he picked up those surfer-boy vibes.
Gemma greets Liam as he sets the pizza boxes on the kitchen counter. He looks like he’s going on a date at a fancy restaurant. I’m already feeling self-conscious about dressing down around these two.
Instinctively, I glance down at my clothes, but he catches on and grasps my arm, pulling me in.
“You look beautiful. And I am definitely into those socks.”
“Well, it’s best if you take them off, dearie,” Gemma says with a surprisingly well-executed British accent, “because your feet are mine today.”
Liam raises a brow at me.
“It’s spa day,” I explain.
“Thought it was tape night.”
“It will be, once spa day is over.”
“Well, in that case, I’d like something for my face if you wouldn’t mind, Gemma.” He grabs my hand and guides me to the living room. “I have a photoshoot tomorrow. So I could use the extra plumpness and hydration.
He laughs.
“You’re in luck because she brought a bunch of things to choose from,” I whisper.
Gemma’s back in the living room, placing the mini tub on the floor and peppering Liam with questions. “What’s the photo shoot for? Is it for a magazine or …?”
“No. It’s for a movie poster of a project coming out next year,” he explains, browsing through the different face masks. I laugh because he seems more into it than I am.
“What?” He laughs, too, grabbing two face masks. “I’ll do yours, and you’ll do mine?”
“I hope you’re not kidding, Liam,” Gemma warns. “If you are tearing one open, you better leave it on for a while. Those are top-quality Korean face masks. I brought them from Seoul.”
Liam and I laugh as he insists on being serious about wearing one, which makes Gemma seem more at ease.
“So … I’ll do yours, and you’ll do mine?
” I lean in and give him a quick peck on the lips.
He seems surprised because I’m not usually this lovey-dovey with him.
Or with anyone, for that matter. But I’m feeling appreciative of him.
He’s been patient when I haven’t been the most consistent with my feelings these past few months, but that doesn’t mean I don’t drool whenever I see him.
And I’m pretty sure he’s aware of that fun fact about me.
Liam takes note of my eagerness by running a hand behind my neck and softly pressing his lips against mine.
I missed his kisses. And the smell of his fresh and citrusy cologne is driving me crazy.
He stops for a second to look at me, his gaze sliding to my swollen lips. He smiles like he’s the happiest person on Earth. I smile back, allowing myself to reciprocate the gesture.
I groan playfully, my lips almost touching his.
He laughs and takes my mouth again. This time, he runs his fingers through my long hair and angles my head back to deepen the kiss, pressing a hand on the small of my back to pull me closer to him.
He gets carried away. I let him. A part of me wants to do much more, but we can’t.
It’s hard to find the time to be alone with him. He’s usually filming or traveling for work while I’m constantly on the road, focused on my tennis career. When we do have the opportunity to meet, Robbie acts as the authorized third wheel.
My father hasn’t allowed me to go on a proper date with Liam. He thinks men are a distraction and that I should focus on training, claiming there’ll eventually be time for that further down the road.
Liam is allowed to visit me in my apartment, but only when there’s a chaperón. Dad insists he “trusts me,” but he doesn’t trust men, especially when they’re three years older than me and a celebrity actor like Liam.
Since it’s Sunday and Robbie’s in New Jersey, I used Gemma as my chaperona. But I forgot to tell Dad that Liam was coming over, or maybe I chose not to tell him because I couldn’t risk having him say no. I need to relax after the tournament, and Liam’s presence is already doing wonders.
Liam’s hands find their way around my jersey and grab my waist in a way he’s never done before, like he needs more of me. I know I’m craving him more than ever. We’ve never done anything other than make out, and Liam’s warm hands against my skin have got me thinking beyond that.
He slowly reclines me against the sofa’s backrest, hooking a finger in the waistband of my biker shorts. I let out a soft whimper, imagining what would come next, right until Gemma clears her throat and drags me out of the fantasy I was beginning to concoct inside my head.
“Get a room! Preferably one I’m not in!” she yells from the open kitchen, followed by a playful snicker.
Gemma!
“We’re not—” I say but cut myself off when Liam laughs against my lips. And I’m sure he’s as unwilling as I am to let go.
“Yeah, yeah,” Gemma mutters to herself. “Your water is going to get cold, and I’m not reheating it for you, so get your feet in there already! If we’re done early, I might find an excuse to leave sooner and let you have the apartment all to yourselves!”
My stomach warms up with expectation. The thought of having the opportunity to be alone with Liam is beyond tempting. Robbie’s a major buzzkill when he’s around, always turning on the TV to whatever sport is in season and offering Liam a beer while they chat, bet, or argue about the game.
Dad trained him well.
“I love it when you get nervous,” he says in a tone reserved for me only, running a finger down my hot cheek. I can’t help but wet my lips as I stare into his. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you blush for me, and I love it.”
“I’m not nervous.” I bring my lips to his and kiss him again, trying to hide the fact that he’s right, and I’m a little embarrassed about it. I break it off and say, “I’m … excited.”
“Not nearly as much as I am, believe me.”
“Socks off and feet in the water,” Gemma orders, carrying a tray with a few cucumber rounds. Liam and I straighten in our seats as we thump back to reality, and I do as I’m told.