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“Too late!” she chirps as she throws open the door. The bed creaks as she jumps onto it.

Juliette lowers her hands to her chest to glare at her. Claudiawriggles her way between her and Remi, lying on her belly. “Who pissed in your oatmeal today?” she asks, pouting at her.

“Cornflakes,” Remi says, exasperated.

“What?” Claudia asks, scrunching her nose.

“It’s ‘who pissed in your cornflakes?’ Y’know, forget it.” Remi shoots Claudia a look that saysdon’t ask about Jules, and Juliette huffs.

“I’m right here. I can literally see you making that face.”

“Is it your wrist?” Claudia asks, her playfulness dissolving into concern.

Juliette rubs her wristbone, but there isn’t even a dull ache anymore. “No, it’s fine. It’s Twitter.”

“Oh, hell, Jules, I told you to delete it. They’ve been hounding you this year.” Claudia shakes her head and pushes off her belly to sit cross-legged at the end of the bed.

“I know, but you know Livia. She won’t let me.” It’s a poor excuse, and Claudia’s eyes immediately narrow.

“Livia isn’t even five feet four and hasn’t worked out a day in her life. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of her.”

“She’s surprisingly terrifying,” Remi chimes in.

Juliette looks at her, thoroughly confused.

“Oh, I see her in y’all’s box.” She shrugs, as if that explains anything at all.

Claudia rolls her eyes. “You two are ridiculous.” She swings off the bed. “We’re leaving in an hour.” She swats Remi’s leg as she passes. “Do not be late!” she calls over her shoulder.

LUCA

Juliette insists she’s well enough to play her singles match. Luca keeps her mouth shut because it’s none of her business.

The Italian crowd chants Juliette’s name when she comes out for the first match. She soaks in the praise, glowing in the bright lights.Luca is entranced by her. She keeps trying to look away, but every time she does, her chest tightens. Sheneedsto look.

It’d be weird if she didn’t look at her teammate, though. Luca decides to just look at her as much as she wants. She can almost convince herself it’s so that she can give advice to help Juliette win.

Not that it matters because Luca hangs back during the changeovers, letting Karoline, Payton, and Claudia encourage Juliette as she loses horrifically to Xinya.

Luca’s advice probably wouldn’t have been helpful anyway.Stop double faulting. Get your second serve in. Don’t push the point too early and miss. Move your feet.

All things she’s sure Juliette is thinking herself and would fix if she could.

Luca is saved from sitting on the bench for the second set because she has to prepare for her match against Octavia. But she can’t escape the televisions in the locker rooms, even if she tried. From using the arm bands to stretch out her shoulders to warming up her legs on the bikes, she’s forced to watch Juliette lose.

Once the game is over, Juliette seems in good spirits, grinning as she hugs Xinya at the net. Aurore and Victoria pat Juliette on the shoulders, sympathetic to her loss. It looks like Victoria asks about Juliette’s back and she shrugs it off.

Luca shakes out her wrists and hands, sinking into her competitive headspace. Because Juliette lost, they’re down 4 points to 1.

The crowd screams for Octavia like they did for Juliette, loving all the Italian representation. The match begins slowly. While Luca wants to win, this is still just an exhibition game, and that lack of pressure keeps her loose as she plays.

On the first changeover, Karoline hands her a water bottle. “Keep doing what you’re doing.”

“Any advice?” Luca asks as she takes a swig.

“Hit drop shots,” a familiar voice brushes against the back of Luca’s neck.

Luca tries not to startle, but her head snaps to the side. Juliette leans over the bench to Luca’s left. Her dark eyes glitter in the light, asmile playing on the edge of her mouth. “Octavia is struggling with her knee. If you can get a drop shot to her backhand side, you could get some easy points. But you gotta follow it in and put away some volleys.”