Chapter 21
twenty-one
The first thing I register is a banging on the door, then Aleks groaning beside me. It feels like I’ve only been sleeping for a few hours, so I roll over and close my eyes again, barely hearing Aleks shuffling to the door and speaking to someone.
“God, Sasha, this place is a sty.” I shoot up at the voice. A demeaning laugh. “Really? A bra? You’re so predictable.”
Everything about this is wrong. No one is supposed to know about us, least of all Anya.
“Mom and Dad want a family brunch. You’re not answering your phone, and it may be the last day we can all sit down for a meal here before the tournament picks up.”
“Anya, you can’t barge into people’s rooms. I’ll come to brunch. Just get out.”
For some reason, there’s a tiny lurch in my chest, remembering his promise of breakfast in bed. Not that I expected anything, but it had been a nice thought as I drifted off to sleep.
Once again, I feel like an idiot.
“You don’t want me to know that you convinced some Spanish rando to slum it with you? What do you care? I’m surprised you let her stay the night.”
Not liking the way she’s speaking to him, I stand and pad to the doorway of the bedroom, bleary-eyed.
“Anya, leave,” he says firmly.
“Honestly, it’s so like you. The three of us are getting shit from Mom and Dad if we stray from our routines, don’t hit the gym enough, or miss any hours on the court, and you’re here, hooking up with—”
The shock on her face when she turns and sees me is almost comical. Almost worth losing the element of secrecy.
But I’m livid and couldn’t care less.
For her to treat him this way when he spends so much energy trying to make life easier for her? I don’t fucking think so. I take another step forward, fixing my glare on her. “Don’t talk to him like that,” I say, my voice low and scratchy.
“You’ve got to be fucking joking.” She whirls around to face him, and I can just make out his grimace. “Is this why you left my team? To fuck her? In a tour full of women, in a country full of women, you choose her?” She says something in Russian, angry and spiteful, I’m sure.
Aleks shoves a hand in his hair. “Can you plea—”
She flips back to me again, and again, it would be comical if not for the more pressing matter.
“This is weirdo behavior, even for you. What, you can’t get to me on court so you’re trying to get under my skin by sleeping with my brother?
Was stealing him from my team not good enough? Or was this always the plan?”
“You were asked to leave,” I answer cooly, roping my hair around my fist before letting it fall. “Don’t make me regret leaving you uninjured yesterday.”
Anya scoffs. “If anyone needs to leave, it’s you. We’re about to have family brunch, and I can guarantee you won’t be welcome there.”
The barb lands closer to home than expected. Hoping to hide that fact, I tie up my hair, glancing at Aleks. His eyes are steadfastly on me, something tender in them.
“Could you excuse us please?” Aleks asks. The lurching in my chest is larger and more distinct this time, like I’ve been slapped. I turn to grab my things. “Anya,” he says in a rush, “you. Can you please excuse us?”
The hurt is made blunt by relief, but it still sits heavy on my sternum.
His sister scoffs again, stomping out of the room, “It’s not a bring-your-client-to-brunch kind of event,” tossed over her shoulder. The door slams behind her, then silence.
“Solnyshko, I’m sorry. I—she walked past me and…” I’m grabbing my phone and room card, knowing that, while I might not have been the one to be excused, I’m about to be shown the door too. “Nic, look at me.”
I do. He’s wearing a pair of boxer briefs, his chest gloriously unclothed, abs on full display. In the light of mid-morning, they’re truly something to behold.
I flick my eyes to his and nod. “You have to go. It’s fine. It’s an off day anyway. You should spend time with your family.” The words feel thick as they leave my throat.
“I’m not—I’m just going to brunch. Natasha might tell them she’s done this morning, and I want to be sure I’m there if she needs me. Plus, I need to stop Anya from running her big mouth. I’m still coming this afternoon, okay? I’ll meet you outside the hotel.”
For so many reasons, I have no ground to stand on here. I’m the one who’s made it clear that we’re nothing more than casual.
And yet that voice that tells me I’ll never be someone’s first choice, someone’s priority, gets louder and louder.
Not enough for my parents. Not enough for my yiayia when I had so many other cousins she needed to take care of.
Not enough for the girls, who all have their own people, and certainly not enough for tennis fans, who find more sport in hating me than loving me.
I mean, I stood up for Aleks, and though he asked Anya to leave, he didn’t exactly do the same. I know it’s his family, I know I’m being unreasonable, but there’s a nausea building in my stomach at the notion that our plans can so easily be replaced.
Resolved not to let it show, I nod, stepping past him. Right as I get to the door, I feel him behind me. He doesn’t touch me, which I’m thankful for because I’m not sure I could handle it.
“We’ll talk. I can tell you’re in your head. We’ll talk after, alright?”
Another nod, and I’m gone.
A few hours later, I finish Delilah’s winged liner, blowing on it until it dries. “Done.”
She stares at herself in my hotel room mirror, blue eyes shocked, her golden hair tumbling over her shoulders. She asked for a smoky eye, and though Sahar is the best of us at makeup, I have a steadier hand for liquid eyeliner.
“Wow,” she breathes. “I look like a princess.”
Harper moves away from the mirror, where she’s applying mascara, wrapping an arm around Delilah’s shoulders. “You are a princess.”
Sahar is in my bedroom, I’m sure leaving it in a state of disrepair as she figures out what to wear, walking in and out of the bathroom in her version of a fashion show. “I don’t know about you, but I’m a queen,” she calls.
Pen typically puts together a sponsor event a few times a year, inviting my friends, our teams, reps from one or two of my sponsors, and any local celebrities she can find.
They’re not my favorite because they require more shmoozing than I’m comfortable with or capable of, but it’s a chance to dress up, enjoy what a city has to offer with my friends, and it keeps my sponsors happy.
Pen and Karolína are already there, setting up and meeting with them ahead of time.
I take my hair out of its clip, letting the straightened strands fall across my shoulders.
Harper notes the pieces that land out of place, turning so she can right them.
“I recognize you don’t like when we talk about you,” she murmurs, “but I have to tell you that you’re the coolest person I know.
I’m so proud of you and so thankful you’re allowing us to celebrate these wins with you. ”
“It’s just a sponsor event.” I haven’t won a thing yet.
“Winning isn’t solely on court,” Delilah adds. “Winning is standing up when you get knocked down. It’s putting in the work when others in your shoes would quit. Your sponsors wouldn’t be knocking your door down, begging to work with you if they didn’t see how much of a winner you are.”
“Exactly,” Harper agrees. “You’re a winner every time you step on a court. No matter what happens this tournament or on clay or this season or the next, you’ve been a winner. To so many people, but especially to us.”
“I want to get in on this!” Sahar barrels into the bathroom, knocking Delilah into me.
We all crash into the wall, my closest friends in the world giggling as we hold on to each other.
“You’re also a winner for your banging bod, insane backhand, and that glare you give Austin when he’s pissing us off. ”
This time, I join in the laughter. My chest is warm, like when I drink liquor on an empty stomach.
The warmth seeps through my body until I feel it in my fingertips and toes.
I’ve spent a year and a half so sure I didn’t fit into this group the way I thought I should, but they’ve loved me all the same.
My own flesh and blood can’t give me the time of day, but these girls have been hard at work showing me I’m not alone, even when I was sure I was, even when they were in another country or continent.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“Alright, we’re crowding her. Back it up,” Delilah says after a few moments. They do. Delilah holds her arm out to me, and I loop mine through it without hesitation.
We meet the guys in the lobby. A quick scan tells me Aleks isn’t here yet, and since we’re running late and I need to be in the first car, there’s no time to waste.
The car pulls up in front of a massive hotel, where we’re led to a private elevator bank. When we reach the top level, the elevator doors part with a soft chime, a wave of orange and grilled seafood drifting in to greet us.
People are milling about, laughing, sipping from patterned glasses, pointing at the Madrid skyline.
Harper and Delilah step out onto the tiled floor of the rooftop, pulling each other in two different directions as they fixate on things on opposite ends of the party.
Matteo follows dutifully behind Delilah, and Austin, Noah, and Sahar brush past me on the way to the table nearest us, laden with food.
It’s more people than I expected, the city unfolding behind them, Madrid’s rooftops a sea of warm reds and off-whites.
Soft lounge music hums, though not so loud that it drowns out conversation, and exposed bulbs float overhead, strung across polished wood beams. Oddly shaped modern furniture clusters around raised cocktail tables, where groups of people lean with their drinks and toothpick-skewered tapas.
Pen spots me, her elegant ponytail swaying behind her as she ambles in my direction. “There you are!” She waves me out of the elevator, and I realize the poor doorman has been sitting here, holding the doors open for me.