Page 26 of Breakpoint

D ani chewed on her lip while she waited for Jaz to enter the locker room.

The gray walls were adorned with television screens showing various matches taking place across the tournament.

She knew Jaz had just finished her match, a loss to a top ten player.

Dani hadn’t fared much better today either, a loss to a player that she had beaten easily a few months ago.

Each rally of her single match had been a blur, her focus fractured, and her serve weaker than usual. Her mind had been elsewhere.

Dani hadn’t seen or talked to Jaz in over a week.

Since that fateful night when they shared a stolen moment in the midst of chaos.

But it was more than a moment, it was a kiss that knocked Dani off her feet.

She couldn’t even remember the names of all the women she had kissed, but that kiss with Jaz in the middle of the makeshift dance floor put every other kiss she had ever had to shame.

It was a kiss for the ages and over too soon for Dani’s liking.

But before she could speak, before she could even process what had happened, Jaz turned and ran. She didn’t say a word, didn’t offer an explanation. She was gone. Dani stood there, stunned, her hand still hovering where Jaz’s cheek had been.

Confusion warred with hurt, a bitter cocktail swirling in her gut.

“Wait!” she called out, but doubted Jaz could hear her over the music.

She rushed out to the room, scanned the hallway, peering down random walkways, hoping to catch a glimpse of her.

But all she saw were other athletes drinking and celebrating without a care in the world.

She had disappeared into the night between the laughter and camaraderie.

She pulled out her phone, her fingers trembling as she dialed Jaz’s number.

It went straight to voicemail. She texted, a flurry of questions and confusion spilling onto the screen.

“What happened?” she typed, her thumbs hovering over the send button.

“Are you okay?” She hesitated, then added, “Please call me.”

Her phone remained silent. She didn’t have access to the accommodations where Jaz and more of the higher-profile athletes were staying, and knew she would never make it past security without Jaz’s approval.

She replayed the kiss over and over in her mind, searching for a clue, a reason, anything that could explain her sudden departure.

And she was still searching.

Jaz had completely ghosted her. Since their kiss exactly eight nights ago, texts and calls have gone unanswered.

Pure radio silence. It was a silence that was deafening, a wall of polite avoidance that had Dani’s nerves fraying, her stomach twisting into knots.

This was the longest period they hadn’t been in communication in months.

She missed not only her training partner, but most importantly, her friend .

Dani was trapped in a loop of questions.

Had she misread everything? Had the kiss been meaningless to Jaz?

A fleeting lapse in judgment, she quickly regretted?

She hadn’t kissed like a conflicted woman.

Or was she simply terrified, as utterly disoriented by the unexpected intimacy as Dani herself was?

After days of trying desperately to understand and respect Jaz’s boundaries, then make peace with the new disconnect between them, she decided this couldn’t go on any longer.

She wasn’t going to play these silent games.

She was going to be the adult and confront Jaz so they could talk directly about whatever was happening between them.

The women’s locker room at the Citi Open Tournament in Washington, DC may not have been the best place, especially after a loss, but Dani was running out of options.

She knew Jaz was one of those players who liked to wash the sweat and match off of her as soon as she could and was never one to wait until she could get back to her rental house or hotel.

It was a slightly audacious move, perhaps even a little pathetic, staking out her territory like this, but Dani was beyond caring about appearances. She just needed to talk.

She adjusted the damp towel around her neck, the terry cloth doing little to absorb the knot of anxiety tightening in her stomach. The humid air of the locker room hung heavy, thick with the scent of sweat and liniment.

Dani heard the locker room door open, and her heart picked up when she saw Jaz. And right behind her was Sascha.

Fuck .

Sascha’s match on one of the other courts must have just ended, too. She was drenched in sweat, carrying her tennis bag, and her signature headband was no longer on her head. There was no way she was having this conversation with Jaz with Sascha anywhere near them.

“Dani!” Sascha shouted when she spied Dani sitting on the bench across the locker room. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever. Congrats on the Olympic win.”

“Thanks.” She still couldn’t quite believe she was a gold medal winner and wanted to look over her shoulder and see who was standing behind her anytime someone congratulated her on the gold medal.

Sascha stuffed her headband and soggy wrist sweatbands into her tennis bag. “Let’s go out and celebrate. I heard DC has a great bar scene. I feel like we haven’t had a good night out in forever.”

“Umm…” She avoided Sascha’s bright, expectant gaze.

A knot tightened in her stomach. She really, really didn’t want to go out.

Her head throbbed, her muscles ached, and all she craved was a conversation with Jaz.

She looked over Sascha’s shoulder to see Jaz grabbing things out of her locker. “I’m not sure—”

“Come on, Dani!” Sascha whined, her voice bouncing off the walls with petulance. “We’re both out of the tournament, so we can celebrate your medal and drown our sorrows at the same time.”

It was true she hadn’t been out with Sascha in months.

Her time was taken up with training and spending time with Jaz.

Plus, “old times” with Sascha meant late nights, blurry memories, waking up with a headache, and a vague sense of regret.

She didn’t really miss that. She’d avoided many of those things now, and the results on the court had shown.

“I don’t know, Sascha,” she mumbled. Her eyes flitted around the room, anywhere but at Sascha’s expectant face. “I’m pretty tired, you know? Long season…” It was a flimsy excuse, even to her own ears.

Sascha rolled her eyes, a playful smirk playing on her lips.

“Tired? Dani, we used to pull all-nighters before, during, and after tournaments! We’d be dancing until sunrise.

What happened to that Dani? We haven’t gone out in ages .

I need my dance and drinking partner. We can post on our socials all over DC. ”

“Look,” Dani began, trying a different tactic.

She stood up and dropped the towel in the laundry.

Her breath hitched when she saw Jaz take her sweaty shirt off.

She’d seen Jaz in many states of undress, but now, knowing what it felt like to have her arms wrapped around her, it was affecting Dani in all kinds of ways.

She tried to pay attention to what Sascha was saying, but focusing was hard right now.

“I really appreciate you wanting to hang, Sascha, truly. But I’ve got…

a thing. And I’m just not feeling it tonight.

I’m really exhausted. I’m going to ice my knees and probably go to bed early.

Maybe next time? You go have fun. You deserve it. ”

A beat of silence hung in the air. Sascha’s smile faltered. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face. “Okay, well, maybe in Cincinnati. You’re playing there, right?”

She nodded. “Yes, and Montreal too. ”

“Ohh, I love Canada and the French there. It’s a date. I’m going to hit the showers back at my hotel.” Sascha went to her locker, grabbed her essentials, and picked up her tennis bag off the bench.

Dani waved at her. “Later, Sascha.” With a quick wave back, Sascha slipped out of the locker room.

They were finally alone. This was it. She spied Jaz in her red sports bra, tennis skirt, and pink flip-flops she liked to wear in the locker room showers.

Jaz bent over to grab her toiletry bag and Dani’s eyes zeroed in on her ass.

She couldn’t help but stare, but if she continued to revel in this moment, she would miss her chance, and Jaz would escape to the showers.

If Dani let her leave now, the silence between them might solidify and become permanent.

Taking a deep breath that did little to calm the frantic hammering of her heart, Dani moved.

She walked deliberately, her tennis shoes squeaking slightly on the polished floor, each step a conscious act of defiance against the swirling uncertainty in her gut.

She reached Jaz just as she was grabbing her towel, her back still turned.

“Jaz,” Dani said, her voice louder than she intended in the quiet locker room. Jaz froze, her shoulders tensing. She didn’t turn around immediately, taking a beat too long, a breath too deep. Then, slowly, reluctantly, she pivoted, her expression guarded, unreadable. “We need to talk.”

Jaz’s carefully constructed composure showed a hairline fracture, but then she closed back up. “Just forget it ever happened. It was a mistake, Dani. We were drinking, and I shouldn’t have taken advantage of that. Honestly, I’m not even sure why you’re here waiting for me. ”

Dani stumbled back for a second, confused by that statement. Had Jaz been thinking the whole time that she had taken advantage of Dani? “Is that what you think happened? Jaz, I kissed you. I wanted it too.” She reached out, her fingers lightly brushing Jaz’s arm. “I want you.”

Jaz looked back at her, her expression forlorn and almost sad. Dani barely caught her whisper.

“Why?”