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Claudia is almost a carbon copy of their mother. Her hair is wild and curly, soft golden-blond, and streaked naturally by the sun, whereas the rest of them have variations of their father’s brown curls.She even has their mother’s long legs, ski slope nose, dip in her chin, and soft sage-green eyes.

She is also the one who appears in headlines the most, either because she’s won another doubles title with Octavia or because she was sleeping with a married man. Even if she didn’t do it on purpose.

But they don’t talk about that.

“Now, chocolate or vanilla?” Claudia asks, leaning away from Juliette and heading for the minifridge in the corner of the kitchenette.

Juliette is in the mood for a shower and sleep, but she humors her anyway. “Chocolate.”

Claudia barks out a haughty “HA!” and points at Octavia.

“Thanks, Jules, you lost me thirty bucks,” Octavia grumbles.

“I thought you would’ve been with Leo.Hewon today,” Juliette says, trying not to sound too bitter but failing miserably.

“Claudia dragged me here,” Octavia says. She’s never one to flatter. “She says I need to ‘relax’ more.” She dramatically flips her hands.

“You do, Octo,” Livia says. “And do not say you canrelaxwith Leo.” She makes a gagging motion, and Octavia huffs.

Juliette snorts and curls her legs beneath her.

“We need to talk about your problem,” Livia says, because apparently Juliette isn’t allowed to have any time to simply mope.

“What if I don’t want to talk about it?” Juliette whines.

Claudia balances four bowls in her arms, and Juliette relieves her of a chocolate one. “Absolutely not. This is gossip, and that is the tenet upon which these girls’ nights were founded.” She flops onto the floor in front of them, puzzle abandoned.

Juliette stabs her plastic spoon into a mound of ice cream.

“This is about Luca, isn’t it?” Claudia asks.

“Shut up.”

“Why do you insist on getting distracted by what Luca is doing?” Octavia asks through a mouthful of vanilla.

Juliette sighs into her ice cream. “I’m not!” She can feel their eyes on her, intense and curious but not malicious. They aren’t journalists. Still, they don’t understand howirritatingKacic is. She shoves ice cream into her mouth and nearly gags. “Is this sugar-free?”

Claudia shrugs, trying to appear innocent. “Livia says we can’t completely ruin the diet Antony put you on.”

“Traitor.” Juliette glares at her and sets her bowl on the arm of the chair.

“Come on, Jules, spill it. You’re obviously bothered by Luca. What’s going on?” Claudia insists, gentler this time.

Juliette rubs her left wrist, the wrap that hides Luca Kacic’s ink-black name. They know Kacic is her soulmate, they saw the Sharpie on her arm the next morning, but Juliette has successfully managed to avoid talking about any of it until now.

Kacic has been an irritant these last few months, with her perfect and quiet excellence. She coasts through every tournament as the one everyone needs to beat, but in the media, she’s understated and coy. Juliette hates her for it.

“I don’t understand why you hate her,” Octavia says, fiddling with her braid. “She’s very polite.”

“She beat me in Australia! In Dubai! Defeatedusin Indian Wells!” Juliette points to Octavia and Claudia. “I don’thateher, I just want to beat her. Don’t you?”

“And so you play mind games in the media? Jules, you know that’s dumb,” Octavia says.

“And you did kind of start this,” Livia adds. Juliette glares at her, and she shrugs. “Just saying. Telling a press conference full of reporters that her game was ‘wholly unoriginal’ and that her serve was overhyped did not help.” She tilts her wineglass at her, most of it already gone.

Juliette winces. “They asked me what I thought, and I was honest.” She shakes her head. “Plus,shestarted it. She acted like I only won against Xinya by default.”

Livia sighs. “Honesty doesn’t mean being a bitch. And wanting to beat someone doesn’t mean you have to be cruel. Especially to your—”