CHAPTER 9
ALEXANDRA
Mostly about last night.
I never thought I’d spend the night teaching Olivia Smythe how to line up a clean corner pocket on the guesthouse pool table.
She was surprisingly terrible at it at first, which somehow made her less intimidating.
A little less picture-perfect. Her grip was wrong.
Her aim was a mess. But she listened. She tried.
And then she grinned when she made her first shot like it meant something.
After my morning run, I came home still drenched in sweat. I wiped the sweat off my neck with the hem of my sando as I walked down the living room.
Through the wide glass doors, I caught sight of movement in the backyard.
Mom and Olivia were out there, seated at the long outdoor table near the pool, plates were half-filled, coffee mugs in hand. Olivia laughed at something my mom had just said, her shoulders loose and relaxed.
They both looked up when they spotted me by the door. Mom gave a quick wave.
“Come join us!” she called.
I hesitated for a second, then slid the door open and stepped out.
Olivia offered me a polite smile as I approached, and I returned it with a nod. She looked at ease, leaning back with her coffee. I slid into the seat beside my mom, still catching my breath.
“Now that you’re here, fully awake and standing upright, you should know Ms. Olivia Smythe is our guest speaker for the junior graduation,” Mom said, eyes twinkling.
I froze for a beat, pretending to be shocked. “Oh? Really?” I glanced at Olivia, forcing a wide-eyed expression. “I… I had no idea.”
Mom arched an eyebrow, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Oh? And when did you figure that out?”
I coughed, shoving a hand through my hair. “Uh… just now, apparently. Right this second.”
Mom’s lips curved into that infuriating knowing smile. The sparkle in her eyes said it all: she knew exactly what was going through my head, and she was loving it.
“Honey, you’re sweating all over the furniture, go change,” Mom said lightly, dabbing her napkin at the side of her cup like she was wiping away an imaginary stain.
I reached for the glass of water she always had waiting, offering a casual shrug. “Just needed to cool down first,” I said, brushing off Mom’s knowing smile like it didn’t bother me in the slightest.
“You and your dad, always the same. Honestly, both of you are like a pair of Labradors that have been in the river. Straight through the door, straight onto the good furniture.”
I smirked, taking a slow sip. “At least we’re consistent. You can’t buy that kind of reliability.”
She rolled her eyes, but her smile gave her away. “One day, I’ll make you both sit on towels like civilized people.”
She looked over at Olivia, who was just watching our exchange. “Sorry, Olivia, it’s always like this living with sporty people. You should see the laundry piles. Even Archer’s the same, he comes in from training and acts like furniture is just part of the cool-down routine.”
Olivia grinned at that, leaning forward on her elbows. “It’s not a bad system. You just... collapse where you land. Efficient.”
Mom chuckled. “Efficient for them, maybe. For me, it’s chasing after sweat patches before they set. Honestly, sometimes I think I should just cover the whole living room in gym towels.”
I looked up from my glass, indignant. “For the record, this is a one-off. I don’t usually drip all over the furniture.”
Mom arched a brow. “Oh, really?”
“Yes, really,” I said, gesturing vaguely at the cushions. “Most of the time, I’m perfectly civilized post-training. Today was just exceptional circumstances.”
Olivia tilted her head, lips twitching like she was enjoying herself far too much. It was the first time she’d met my eyes since last night, and my stupid heart decided to skip like it had just seen a match point.
“Exceptional circumstances?” Olivia said, voice all casual challenge.
I kept my expression neutral, even as that little jolt worked its way through my chest. I met her gaze evenly. “Ten kilometers run, pre-breakfast. I think I earned my spot.”
She leaned back, pretending to consider it. “Hmm. Still sounds like a towel situation to me.”
“You’re welcome to file a formal complaint.”
“Oh, I will,” she said, smirking now. “Might even get Amelia to co-sign it.”
I set my glass down deliberately. “You’re both welcome to try.”
From the corner, I caught Mom watching us with a subtle smile, pretending to be engrossed in her tea but clearly amused by the exchange. She said nothing, wisely choosing to let us have our fun.
Mom looked over at me. “What time are you heading to the academy?”
I leaned back in the chair. “I don’t know, what time are you getting there?”
“We’re heading in early,” she said. “Olivia’s joining the kids’ training block this morning.”
I gave a small nod, eyes flicking to Olivia for a beat. She didn’t say anything, just sipped her drink, gaze focused on something in the garden.
“Right, maybe I’ll get there earlier than one,” I said, dragging myself up from the chair. “I’ll go check on Dad now. I'll let you guys finish your breakfast. Text me if the schedule changes.”
Mom nodded. “Will do. And eat something real before you go. Not just coffee.”
I waved a hand behind me as I slipped back into the house. Olivia’s presence stayed with me longer than I expected.
Out in the garage, I found Dad crouched beside our bikes, wiping down the frames with a rag. He looked up and smiled. “Just giving these a quick clean before the next ride.”
I leaned against the doorway. “Didn’t expect you to be this meticulous.”
He chuckled. “Old habits. Plus, a well-kept bike rides better. You know that.”
I nodded, stepping closer. “Thought I’d see if you needed a hand.”
“Sure thing,” he said, handing me a rag. “Careful with the chain, it gets greasy.”
As I wiped the frame, the longing grew heavier inside me. I wondered if Dad could see it, the flicker of something I wasn’t ready to admit aloud.
He paused and looked at me with gentle eyes. “I can tell you miss it, Alex.”
I swallowed, nodding slowly. “I do. The feeling of pushing myself. It’s different from tennis, but it’s a part of me.”
He set the rag down and studied me thoughtfully. “What made you pick up the racquet when you were thirteen? You never really told me.”
I hesitated, a swirl of thoughts fighting inside me. Should I say it? Honestly, it sounded a bit funny, like blaming Olivia for my sudden tennis obsession. As if I just woke up one day and thought, 'You know what? I’ll chase a tiny ball around a court because of her.' Yeah, right.
Dad smiled softly, his eyes kind. “Whatever the reason, it was yours, and that’s enough. Missing something doesn’t mean you’ve lost it, Alex. I’ll always back you, no matter what you choose.”
My chest loosened at his words. I managed a faint smile. “Thanks, Dad.”
He clapped his hands suddenly, as he’d just had an idea. “Alright then, what do you say we ride? Dust off those wheels of yours, get out of the house a bit.”
“Seriously?”
“Come on before you come up with an excuse” he said, already heading toward the hall.
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After we rolled back into the driveway, we cleaned our bikes and set them back in the garage. I headed straight for the shower, letting the hot water rinse away the salt and grit until I finally felt human again.
Glancing at the clock, I realized time was slipping.
I grabbed my tennis bag and slung it over my shoulder.
It was already past noon, which meant I had just enough time to drive to the academy before Coach Kit started grilling me about punctuality.
The court session was set for one sharp, and being late was simply not an option.
I pulled through the academy gates and parked in my usual spot, switching off the engine with a sigh. Grabbing my water bottle and gears, I stepped out into the early afternoon.
I headed toward my quarters, but movement by Court 3 caught my eye.
Olivia was there in the middle of the kids, gently tossing them easy feeds, smiling when one managed a clean forehand, and showing another how to adjust their grip.
Her voice carried, patient and encouraging, and the kids clung to every word like it was gospel.
She laughed at one of their jokes, tossing her ponytail over her shoulder, and the sunlight lit up her face in a way that almost made me forget how to breathe.
I just stood there for a second, half hidden by the bleachers, watching. Like an idiot.
She looked genuinely and effortlessly happy in a way that wrapped around my ribs and squeezed, leaving me dizzy.
I shook my head, trying to clear the fuzziness behind my eyes. Get a grip, Cadiz.
I forced myself to turn away. Coach Kit was waiting, and there was work to do. I had to prove to everyone that I could rise, that I belonged here.
I walked into our team quarters. Coach Kit was already there, lacing up his shoes and muttering at his tablet. He looked up when he heard me.
“Good,” he said, eyeing me from head to toe. “You’re early. Let’s keep that habit.”
I dropped my bag on the bench and pulled off my hoodie. “Told you I’d be ready.”
He nodded and tapped something on his screen. “Perfect. Courts are open. But before we start... You might want to take a detour.”
I raised an eyebrow.
He tilted his head toward the court where Olivia and the kids are. “Thought maybe you’d want to join them, loosen up a bit before we get serious.”
I tried to play it cool. “Oh. Is that part of training now?”
He smirked. “Let’s call it an optional warm-up. You’ve got thirty minutes before we officially start. Use it however you want.”
As we neared Court 3, she was tossing balls gently to one of the younger girls, offering small corrections with every swing.
“She’s got a good presence,” Coach Kit said, not looking at me.
When Olivia turned and spotted us, her smile didn’t fade. She gave me the smallest nod, just enough to say I see you. My heart knocked once, loud in my chest.