CHAPTER 16
OLIVIA
Stepping onto the Arthur Ashe Stadium, the roar of the crowd washed over me in waves. This wasn’t just another match. This was her. Alex. And for the first time, we were on opposite sides of the net in a real tournament.
Across the net, she was already moving lightly on her toes, her eyes scanning the court, settling for a brief moment on me. And for an instant, the rest of the stadium disappeared. My chest fluttered, my stomach knotted, and I had to consciously exhale to keep from crashing.
Focus, Liv. Focus.
I closed my eyes for a brief second, taking in the familiar smells of hardcourt and sunscreen, the tension of a stadium packed with tens of thousands.
I jogged to the center, taking my first real look at her up close.
Alex’s hands were on her hips, and her usual calm composure seemed slightly off.
There was a flicker of tension in her shoulders, a subtle tightening of her jaw.
She’s nervous too, I realized, and the thought both grounded me and added a new weight of responsibility.
The umpire held up the coin. “Call it.”
“Heads,” I said, voice steadier than I felt. The coin spun, caught by the umpire, and landed. “Heads it is. Smythe, you’ll serve or receive?”
“I'll Serve.”
The umpire asked Alex if she was okay to receive and she nodded.
I also nodded suppressing a small surge of adrenaline, and jogged back to the baseline.
Ball in hand, racquet poised, I tried to settle into the rhythm I knew so well.
Across the net, Alex bounced lightly on her toes, eyes locked on me.
We started with the usual warm-up, easy rallies back and forth, just enough to loosen shoulders and find rhythm. The sound of the ball skimming the court fell into its own steady beat, a quiet prelude before things sharpened.
My first serve went up, and I felt the familiar snap of strings as the ball sailed over the net.
Alex returned with a sharp cross-court shot, but it sailed just wide.
My chest tightened; she was off too. Another rally started, both of us swinging, missing, overhitting.
Unforced errors piled up on both sides, the baseline becoming a tense battlefield of nerves and hesitation.
Why am I so... distracted? I chastised myself internally. Every glance at her, every subtle movement, seemed to pull my focus in two directions at once. And judging by her own misfires, I could see she wasn’t entirely in her head either.
The crowd murmured and cheered with each point, but I barely noticed them. All I could see was the player across from me, the familiar yet impossible-to-ignore presence that made every shot feel heavier, every swing a little more deliberate.
I caught Coach Dani’s eye at the changeover. Her nod was firm, her fingers tapping her temple. Focus. Adjust. Stay present. That tiny gesture was all it took to snap me out of the haze.
I exhaled slowly, tightened my grip, and started making deliberate adjustments, shorter swings on my backhand, stepping into my forehand more aggressively, keeping my toss higher on my serve. Slowly, the unforced errors began to drop.
Alex, on the other side, still seemed unsettled. The match started to feel less like a guessing game and more like a chessboard, each of us testing, probing, and learning with every point.
A few rallies later, I held my serve, then broke hers on a delicate drop shot that caught her just off guard. When the umpire finally called the set in my favor, 6-4, a mix of relief and adrenaline washed over me.
Alex’s expression was unreadable as we switched sides, but I could sense the fire igniting in her.
The second set started with a new intensity.
The crowd roared at every long rally, and I felt myself battling not just the game but my own heartbeat.
Alex stole the second set 6-3, her fist pumping in quiet triumph at the net.
And just like that, we were forced into a decider. I took a deep breath, wiped the sweat from my brow, and reminded myself: One shot at a time. Don’t let anything else in your mind.
Across the net, Alex mirrored my intensity, her eyes locked on me with a mix of focus and something I couldn’t quite name.
As the set progressed, I started to adjust. By the time the scoreboard read 4-2, I felt a quiet confidence, I was reading her move better, exploiting small openings.
Then, I clinched the final game, taking the 3rd set at 6-3. The stadium erupted. I won.
My chest heaved as the umpire called it. Alex approached the net, her flushed face breaking into a satisfied grin.
When she got near, she lowered her voice to a whisper right in my ear. “You knew I was rooting for you, right?” Her breath tickled my skin, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
I couldn’t help but whisper back in her ear, my own voice barely carrying over the noise. “Maybe… just a little.”
Her grin widened into a genuine, radiant smile, and I laughed softly, heart thumping at how close she was. It was such a small interaction, but it left a warm echo lingering long after we pulled back.
Alex gave me one last grin and walked off the court, leaving me to the buzzing crowd and the on-court interview.
The applause swelled as cameras clicked, and for a brief moment, it felt like the stadium had shrunk to just me.
I walked back toward the locker room, the cheers still echoing behind me. I finished my routine and head back out.
Maddie was nearby, leaning against the bench with a cup of water, watching with that knowing glint in her eye, but it was Coach Dani who stepped forward, clipboard in hand, ready to dissect every detail.
“Good job out there, Liv,” she began, her eyes scanning the stats and replay clips on the tablet. “But let’s break it down. Your footwork was excellent, but you seemed distracted during that first set, you need to manage that pressure. That’s something to tighten up for the next round.”
Maddie gave me a subtle smile, and I felt that brief pang of distraction, but I forced it aside. Of course, it was Maddie, she always seemed to know everything.
It was two days before my match with Alex, we’d gathered for a quick debrief with the team in the players’ lounge.
The atmosphere was light and Maddie was, as usual, in full storytelling mode.
She was mid-way through some hilarious anecdote when I was laughing along, the sound blending with the soft hum of the lounge, when I glanced up and froze.
There was Alex, talking to a girl who could have walked straight off a magazine cover.
Model-like, flawless, effortlessly striking.
Alex caught my eye and offered a small, polite smile, but I didn’t return it.
I couldn’t afford distractions; we were about to play each other, and every ounce of focus mattered.
“Is that Cassandra Dubois?” Maddie whispered, wide-eyed, leaning closer so no one else could hear.
I leaned back, stunned, the pieces of Elena’s gossip finally clicking into place. “Wait… Elena mentioned this, that’s her?”
Maddie wagged a finger at me, a teasing grin tugging at her lips. “Yes. That’s the one. You can’t help but notice her… even if you try.”
“How do you even know this?” I asked, leaning closer.
She grinned, tossing her hair back. “Girl I’m serious. I checked everything about Alexandra. Not that it’s hard to figure out who Cassandra is, every triathlon Alex’s ever competed in, Cassandra’s there. They were always on the podium together, glued like superglue.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you’re a manager and not secretly moonlighting as a journalist… or a paparazzi?”
Maddie laughed, nudging me with her elbow. “Trust me, I’m very much a manager. But if knowing a little scoop makes me better at my job… well, I’ll take it.”
I shook my head, chuckling. “Alright, enough with the gossip. You know we’re here to strategize.”
Maddie just winked, clearly enjoying herself, and turned her attention back to the tablet.
I took a deep breath, forcing my mind back to the present, the stats, the plays, the strategy.
But even as we reviewed the plan, a tiny flicker of unease lingered in the back of my mind, a quiet reminder of the little whirlwind Elena’s gossip about Alex and Cassandra had stirred inside me.
So that’s basically why I’m so distracted right now. I’m angry at myself for letting it get to me. But just like Coach Dani said, I need to push all distractions aside.
My mind snapped back to the game plan, to the stats, to every little adjustment I could make. This is my focus now, nothing else matters.
ALEXANDRA
After my loss at the US Open, I gathered my team together in my hotel room.
I let them shuffle around me, checking gear, slinging bags over shoulders, muttering about logistics and next year’s prep.
I gave them a nod. “Go rest for a year,” I said, keeping my tone even but firm.
“Spend time with your families, you guys deserve it. This is just a pause, a breather, not the end. I’ll be back. ”
I’d made my own decision. Tennis was done for a while, at least as the center of my life. I was chasing something else now, something that had been whispering at the back of my mind for years: the Olympics. All-in, headfirst, no excuses.
It felt strange to say it even in my head, let alone let them see it in my eyes. I’d never been the dramatic type, no tearful speeches, no grand gestures but this felt bigger than that. This was a pivot, a choice I owned, one I couldn’t let anyone else define.
So I watched them leave, quiet nods exchanged, small smiles, a shared understanding that words weren’t needed.
For now, tennis could wait, the tour could wait and I could finally chase something that felt entirely, unapologetically mine.
But my mind wouldn’t stop wandering. Olivia.
I wouldn’t be seeing her for a while, not with this Olympic detour taking over my life.
The door clicked shut behind them, leaving the room suddenly too quiet, the air dense with everything unsaid.
Except I wasn’t completely alone. I was still with Coach Kit.
Coach Kit lingered by the window, arms folded, his reflection caught in the glass as the New York skyline glittered faintly in the distance. He hadn’t moved when the others left.
He studied me, jaw flexing, as if weighing the truth of my words against the years we’d spent grinding together, week in, week out. Finally, he crossed the room and sank into the chair opposite mine, leaning forward, elbows on his knees.
“You’ve been my player since you’ve turned pro. I’ve seen you fight through injuries, finals, matches where anyone else would’ve folded. And now you’re telling me you’re taking a break. Not forever, but long enough that everything we’ve built… it could shift. You get that, don’t you?”
I dropped my gaze. “I do. I know this might change things. And if it does, if you decide you want to coach someone else in the meantime, I won’t be angry. I couldn’t be. You’ve given me more than I ever deserved, Kit. I wouldn’t want you waiting around just because of me.”
For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, slowly, he shook his head.
“You think this is just a job for me?” he asked, a faint scoff escaping. “Alex, I don’t coach players the way I coach you and then just… swap them out when it gets inconvenient. This isn’t about waiting. This is about loyalty. You’ve earned mine a hundred times over.”
I was caught off guard by the certainty in his tone.
He leaned back, arms folding across his chest. “You go chase your Olympic dream. Break your body in the pool and on the bike if you have to. When you’re ready to come back, you won’t need to call me first. I’ll already be here.”
And then, almost on instinct, I stood and walked around the table. I gave him a firm, quick hug—not the gushy kind, but the one that said I see you, I respect you.
“Thanks,” I said, voice steady. “For everything. For not giving up on me. For… being here.”
He nodded, patting my shoulder in that precise, grounding way he always did, like he had a blueprint for how to keep me steady even when I wasn’t. “You’ll be fine, Alex,” he said. “Go chase that gold medal. I’ll be cheering.”
I let go without a word, not because I didn’t feel it, but because I trusted him to know. Kit gave me one last look, equal parts coach, friend, and the closest thing I had to a father on these courts, before gathering his jacket and heading to the door.
I didn’t need sentiment to know he had my back, he always did.
“Don’t forget,” he said, hand on the knob, “Whether it’s the track, the pool, or back here on court, you’re never alone in it.”
The door closed behind him with a soft click, and suddenly the room was still again.
And for the first time that night, the weight of what I’d just done, what I’d chosen, truly settled on me.