CHAPTER 9 #2
“Go on,” Kit said, clapping me on the shoulder. “You’ve got a few minutes.”
I walked toward the court, the grip of my racquet suddenly slicker than I remembered. Olivia stepped back to let the kid finish their swing, then turned to me as I approached.
“Hey,” she said, casual but warm. “Didn’t think I’d get a hitting partner today.”
I shrugged, trying to match her tone. “Coach says I’ve got thirty minutes. Figured I’d spend them wisely.”
She tossed me a spare ball from the hopper. “Let’s see if you still remember how to use a racquet.”
I caught it with one hand, trying not to grin. “I guess we’re about to find out.”
We split into sides, the kids giggling as they picked who’d join who. Olivia served first, a gentle rally meant for the kids to jump into, but our shots started finding rhythm in between their interruptions, quick, playful exchanges tucked between laughter and mini chaos.
“Nice shot, Coach Olivia!” one of the kids yelled after she sent me chasing the ball.
“Oh, coach now?” I raised an eyebrow, flicking the ball back into play.
Olivia chuckled, tucking a loose strand behind her ear. “Temporary title. Until someone takes it from me.”
There was something easy in the way we moved. Something I didn’t want to look at too closely. And maybe she felt it too, because when our eyes met for just a second too long after a rally, her smile faltered just enough to feel real.
She glanced away first.
“You do this a lot, don’t you?” she asked as she bent to pick up another ball, voice casual but eyes a little too curious.
“With the kids?” I nodded. “Yeah. When I’m not training or traveling. They keep me honest.”
She smiled at that. “You’re good with them.”
And then she turned away to wrangle a group of kids who’d wandered off. The words lingered longer than they should’ve.
We kept playing, laughter spilling across the court as the kids invented ridiculous point systems that made no sense at all.
Olivia and I were on the same side of the net now. Then Olivia clapped her hands once and grinned. “Alright, bonus round. First to hit Alex wins five points!”
I gasped in mock betrayal. “Excuse me?!”
The kids erupted into giggles and chaos. In seconds, I was under fire from all directions. I dove for cover, volleying back with over-the-top dramatics. “Mutiny! I’m surrounded!”
Olivia laughed, that bright sound that hit me square in the chest. She and I dodge stray balls like a two-person survival team. I caught her eye mid-laugh, both of us breathless, still moving, and then it happened.
Our shoulders brushed, and before I could react, her foot tangled with mine. The world tilted.
“Whoa—” she gasped, grabbing my arm.
We went down hard, her body colliding into mine with a soft thud and a sharp exhale. I twisted mid-fall out of instinct, hitting the court on my back with a dull thunk.
Olivia landed right on top of me. For a split second, everything stilled.
Her palms were braced on my chest, her breath hot against my collarbone. A stray lock of her hair tickled my jaw. Her weight, warm and solid, pressed into me in a way that short-circuited every coherent thought.
“Oh my god—are you okay?” she breathed, her voice softer now, worried but threaded with something else.
I swallowed, eyes locked on hers. Her pupils were wide. The world felt like it had narrowed down to the space between us.
“I’m... alive,” I managed, a grin tugging at the corner of my mouth. “Might need emotional support, though.”
That made her laugh the kind that slipped out before she could stop it. But she didn’t move. Not right away.
Our eyes held longer than they should have. Her heartbeat was pressed against mine, for a second, I swore she could feel how fast mine was going too.
Her gaze flicked down, just barely, to my lips. It lit a match somewhere in me I couldn’t pretend wasn’t there.
I wanted to close the distance, just a fraction, but I didn’t move. Couldn’t. Because if I did, there’d be no taking it back, and it would be wildly inappropriate.
So I forced myself to stay still, to remember that this (whatever was crackling here) was mine alone to manage. Something that would have to stay in my head, where it was safer. So I stayed still.
Then she blinked, like she’d just remembered gravity, and rolled off me, clearing her throat.
I sat up too quickly, brushing dirt off my elbow, my heart hammering. The laughter of the kids came back into focus, completely oblivious to the quiet chaos that had just taken place between us.
From across the court, one of the boys, Luca, pointed at us with a grin way too cheeky for a nine-year-old.
“See? I told you she has a crush on Coach Olivia!” he blurted. “I saw her watching one of Olivia’s matches on her laptop in the lounge. She had her earbuds in and was smiling the whole time!”
The court went silent for a beat, then exploded into giggling and teasing from the other kids.
Olivia’s eyes widened a fraction, clearly trying to hide a smile.
I scrambled up, dusting off my shorts. “Okay, wow, what a wild story! Very imaginative. You’ve got a future in fiction writing, Luca.”
I was saved by the sharp whistle from Coach Kit, cutting through the chaos like a siren.
“Cadiz! Time’s up. Let’s get to work!”
“Oh, sorry, I should leave now,” I muttered, flashing Olivia a half smile as I jogged backward toward the other side of the court.
As I joined Coach Kit near the baseline, I could still hear the kids giggling behind me. Olivia was laughing too, quietly but clearly.
My heart hadn’t slowed down since the fall.
Trouble. Definitely trouble.
·····
Coach Kit didn’t hold back.
The warmth and laughter from earlier vanished, replaced by drills, footwork, sprints, and relentless groundstroke sequences that had me sweating buckets within the first fifteen minutes.
Cincinnati Open was coming, and there was no room for half steps or distractions, especially ones with bright hazel eyes and a British accent.
By the time we wrapped, I was drenched, shaky, and sore in all the ways that meant we’d actually done something. I thanked Coach Kit, grabbed my gear, and limped.
A long, hot shower helped, but not enough to fight the weight settling into my limbs. Still half-damp, I pulled on a hoodie and shorts, shoved my damp hair into a bun, and grabbed my book off the side table.
Then I walked across the courts until I reached my favorite place in the grounds.
The giant tree in the corner still offered the best kind of shade, even in the heat of the afternoon.
Years ago, probably when Olivia left the Academy, I’d strung up a hammock between two sturdy branches and claimed the spot for myself.
When I wasn’t hitting or lifting or forcing protein down my throat, I was usually here, resting, reading, or just staring up through the leaves.
I crawled into the hammock, let the fabric cradle me, and cracked open the book on my stomach.
But I didn’t read. Not really.
My eyes drifted toward the court. Olivia and the kids weren’t there anymore, probably finished long before I wrapped up with Coach Kit. The place looked quieter now and stripped of laughter and bouncing balls.
That moment, her breath near mine, the way she looked at me like I wasn’t just Amelia Wilson’s daughter, kept playing in my head on a loop I couldn’t stop.
I shut my eyes and pressed the book tighter against my chest, telling myself it was all in my head. It was probably just my imagination running wild, the result of waiting for this moment for so long.
Eventually, I reached for my phone, the sun warming my legs through the hammock netting as I unlocked the screen.
Out of habit, I opened Instagram and started scrolling.
Mostly noise, tournament updates, training clips, influencers I didn’t even remember following, everyone curating their lives through filters and hashtags.
Without thinking too hard, my thumbs moved on their own to the search bar. Olivia Smythe.
I had followed her once before, from afar, when admiration and a little obsession collided. But now? Now, after actually talking to her, after standing a few feet apart, laughing, and seeing her smile in a way that felt hers entirely… it felt different. Necessary, even.
This time, I tapped Follow, and waited, heart thumping, for the small confirmation that somehow made it feel like a quiet step closer.