Chapter 9
KIDDING AROUND
HENRY WALKS AWAY, and I silently pick up the balls, finishing the job fairly quickly. Finally, I carry the basket over and set it down on the wooden bench.
“Belén! Belén!”
I turn toward the voices shouting my name as I leave the court. A bunch of kids run toward me, and I wave hello with a smile. Seconds later, they reach me. Two young women, possibly their coaches, follow close behind, jogging to catch up.
“Hi, Belén!” one of the kids yells, throwing his arms around me.
“Alex! Wait, honey!” one of the women calls out to him from a distance.
“It’s okay!” I say, a genuine smile tugging at my lips.
I set my racket bag and tumbler on the ground and squat to embrace the sweet kid. He’s adorable. More boys and girls swarm me for a group hug, tackling me until I fall back on my butt with a laugh. This interaction warms my heart in a way I didn’t realize I needed.
“How’s your day going, guys?” I call out in a loud, excited tone for everyone to hear.
“Good! Great!” they all yell at once.
I laugh.
“That’s awesome! Were you guys training hard in there?”
“I was,” the boy named Alex says.
“Me too!” some of the other kids say. “Me three!”
“I want to be like you when I grow up,” one of the girls says shyly. She has brown hair, brown eyes, and a soft warm beige skin tone, just like mine. The resemblance makes me sigh.
I’m about to reply when a brown-skinned girl with beautiful golden-brown curls tied back in a tight ponytail says, “Me too!
“Well, I’m sure you will all be better than me.
I mean it.
They seem so pure, gentle, and innocent. It makes me wonder how, one day, without realizing it, we lose those qualities and grow up. Some for the better, while others, not so much.
“Nice to meet you, Belén,” one of the coaches says, waving hello from above. I’m still sitting on the ground, surrounded by kids. “My name is Aubrey, and this is Catie.”
“Nice to meet you,” I reply with a smile.
“Would you mind if we snapped a few shots of you with the kids?” Aubrey asks.
“Of course! I’d love to.”
Catie and Aubrey start directing the kids, which is no easy task. Finally, they manage to set everyone in place and take turns snapping a photograph so they can both be in it.
“Thank you so much, Belén,” Catie says. “You did such a great job at the Open. We watched the final, and we were bummed about the result, but you were amazing. You should be proud of yourself.”
You probably watched me lose my shit at the end, too.
The thought is mortifying.
“Thanks, Catie. I won’t let you guys down next year. I promise.”
“Oh, no! You didn’t let anyone down,” Aubrey pitches in. “We’re all so proud, and the kids love you.”
I’m about to reply when everyone starts pointing at the main fence. Some kids begin asking questions, while others run toward the flashing lights.
When I turn around, a group of paparazzi swarms the other side of the fence, right by the curb.
Damn it.
Henry marches out of the main building with Jasper and spots the paparazzi.
“It was great meeting you guys,” I tell the kids. “But it’s time for us to leave.”
“Yes, of course,” Aubrey replies. “Thanks again, and good luck.” Both Catie and Aubrey glance at the photographers, who always make for a frightening scene. They’re ruthless, invasive, and often downright rude.
I grab my things and am about to leave when a girl tugs on my hand a few times. I look down to see the same dark-haired girl who reminds me of myself when I was younger.
“Are you sad?” she asks in barely a whisper, wringing her fingers nervously. I frown and bend down to talk to her.
“No, of course not, honey,” I say with a smile. “I’m so happy to have met you guys.”
“You were hitting your racket on TV,” she says in the sweetest, saddest voice. It’s breaking my heart. “Mommy said you were sad about losing.”
Henry’s right. I can’t forget that people are watching, and not just people … kids. Kids who dream of becoming professional athletes like me someday.
Shame hits me.
For the millionth time, I promise myself that I won’t let this happen again. I can’t act on every impulse, especially during a tennis match. Not after this.
“I was a tiny bit angry,” I admit. Henry and Jasper are now walking our way, glancing at my interaction with the girl. “And I shouldn’t have done that. I overreacted, and I promise I won’t ever do it again, okay?” I hold out my pinky finger. “Pinky promise?”
She giggles and hooks her finger around mine to seal the deal.
“Can I hug you?” she asks.
“Of course!” I embrace her. “What’s your name?”
“Violet.”
“What a pretty name.”
I glance at Henry, who is smiling proudly at our interaction.
“It was great meeting you, Violet.”
I kiss Violet’s hair, say goodbye to everyone, and walk away.
“What the hell is going on out there?” I whisper to Henry. “How did they find out I’m here?”
“I’m not sure, but I have an idea,” he replies, glancing at Jasper, who’s pretending to be super worried about the paparazzi swarming at the entrance of his tennis complex.
“You think he would do that?” I keep whispering.
“I don’t know. Maybe he wanted this place to get some attention. But I texted Tony, and he’s bringing the car around. There he is.”
I sigh. “Okay, let’s do this.”
Jasper approaches us, and I thank him again for letting us use his facility. He walks us toward the front gate where the paparazzi are waiting impatiently for me to come out.
“Belén! Belén!” they all yell at once. Some shout questions at Jasper and me, asking if I’ll be training here.
Jasper shrugs and smiles for the cameras. I don’t bother with a reply.
“Were you kicked out of the NTC?”
“Where will you train?”
“Is this young man your new coach?”
“I don’t like this,” Henry whispers, trying to clear a path for us through the throng of photographers. Tony’s got the SUV door open, waiting for us. Henry’s hand slips from mine. I turn, and he’s gone.
“Henry!” I shout in a panic.
The reporters and photographers surround me in an instant, shouting more questions in my face. Claustrophobia hits me. Fast.
Henry pushes a few people out of the way and quickly makes it back to me. He grabs my hand and pulls me close.
“I got you,” he whispers in my ear.
I don’t have time to process how intense this situation is, or how I feel about Henry’s warm breath brushing against my face.
He’s shoving people out of the way until we reach the car. Tony grabs my stuff, and I step inside, followed by Henry, who shuts the door so fast that he almost crushes someone’s camera.
“Thanks,” I say, panting.
“Of course.” He removes his hat to run a hand through his wavy hair and puts it back on. “That was intense.”
Tony speeds away, fleeing the scary scene.
It’s so bizarre that the media would know where I was training. They don’t usually follow me around wherever I go. Jasper had to have been the one to tip them off. But I don’t have time to think about that right now.
There’s something I need to fix.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” I grumble, glancing down at my hands resting on my lap before meeting Henry’s gaze. “I’ve been so stressed about everything that’s happened lately. There have been too many changes too fast, and the uncertainty of it all has me on edge. I know I overreacted.”
“Hey, it’s okay,” he replies quickly. “I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did either. I think it’s time for us to sit down and talk.”
Henry’s gaze locks onto mine. I nod a few times, desperately, because I know this is exactly what I’ve wanted and needed for years. To sit down and talk to him.
“I would like that,” I say with a stupid smile.
“Bells,” he whispers, finally offering me a smile with my name on it. “I really missed you. I hope you know that.”
I didn’t know that. For years, all I could think about was how he didn’t care about me, how our friendship had meant nothing to him.
I couldn’t understand how he could have so easily forgotten about me.
I still don’t because I knew our friendship was real.
I could feel it. So, hearing him say that gives me hope, but it also worries me. What the hell happened then?
Can I trust him? I know a part of me wants to—needs—to trust him. Needs him and his friendship back. But I’m not ready to tell him I missed him too. So badly. I’m afraid to see what’s behind that door if I dare to open it.
I part my lips to reply, to say something. Anything. But I still don’t know what to say. I glance away, retreating. Henry doesn’t need me to say it. He knows I’ve missed him. He knows my face too well for me to hide that obvious truth from his knowledge.