Page 10

ten

. . .

Viv

Halfway through my ten-mile run, the sun has just started peeking out through the clouds, sunbeams lighting the dark gray sky. It’s been raining the past few days, the ground slick beneath my feet. My breath comes in soft pants as I try to regulate my breathing.

Kiana, running beside me, has barely broken a sweat. Me? I’m covered in sweat from head to toe. I don’t mind it when I’m on the rugby pitch or lifting weights in the gym, but other than that, it is not my favorite sensation.

“Are you going to talk about it?” Kiana asks.

“Talk about what?”

“Whatever has your brain so twisted.” She slows to a stop and turns to stare at me, her hands on her hips.

I stop also. “I’m not twisted.”

“You’ve been off for a few days,” she points out. “Your game hasn’t been on point, either.”

I’ve been playing particularly badly in practice. It’s like I’ve entirely forgotten how to rugby. I’m missing tackles, fumbling passes, and generally being a hindrance on the pitch.

“I’ve been… distracted,” I admit with a wince.

She looks at me, waiting. “Yeah. By what?”

When I don’t answer immediately, she pokes me in the shoulder.

“Come on, you used to tell me everything. Does it have anything to do with that super hot guy from the shelter?”

“No.” The word comes out hushed and harsh.

A slow smile spreads over Kiana’s face. “It does! That’s why you’ve been so weird!”

Grumbling, I stub the toe of my shoe into the ground. “I ran into him last night.”

Her eyebrows go up. “And?”

“And nothing. I was with some friends, so was he. His friend was totally obnoxious.”

“Are you seriously that freaked out he’s Cari’s brother?”

Not really. Do I love that he’s related to my teammate? No. Would it be enough to stop me from pursuing him? No.

Except that he’s…

With a grunt of frustration, I take out my ponytail and tie it up again.

“You’re stalling,” Kiana accuses.

I could give her excuses, but they’d be just that—excuses.

He brings up bad memories. He makes me insecure. I don’t like the way I feel around him.

But I don’t want to share any of that. I’ve already told too many people. Sooner or later, it’s going to get back to him, and I am not looking forward to that conversation.

“He’s not interested in me,” I tell her. “So it’s a moot point.”

“But if he were…”

I shake my head. “He’s not. So it doesn’t matter.”

He’s gorgeous, I’ll give him that. And we definitely had a spark three years ago.

That doesn’t mean I want more. I don’t even know what I want.

“I’m not really looking to date anyone right now,” I finally say.

Kiana laughs. “Who said anything about dating? Screw him and move on.”

“Tried that,” I mutter. “Didn’t work.”

Her eyebrows go up. “Excuse me?”

Shit. I didn’t mean to say that.

“You can’t tell Cari,” I tell her urgently.

“I won’t.” She crosses an X over her heart. “Tell. Me. Everything.”

“We hooked up at the Olympics. It was a one and done thing.” My cheeks warm, remembering the heat of that night. “I hadn’t seen him again until…”

Kiana’s mouth drops open. “Was it that bad?”

“Worse.” It was that good . “So yeah, I’m not looking to go down memory lane. And I’m definitely not trying to start something there. It’s just that every time I turn around, there he is.”

“Oh, hey,” she says, waving exuberantly to someone behind me.

Fuck.

Is he here? Did she see him? Did he hear ?

I duck my head, trying to hide.

Kiana laughs. “Stop it, you goober. He’s not here.”

“You’re mean.” I swat at her shoulder. “That’s cruel.”

“We just have to find you someone else,” she says, like it’s that easy.

“I’m not looking for anything…”

“That’s when you find it,” she says. “When you try to find it, you never will. If you let it happen naturally, it will come to you.”

Maybe that philosophy works for dating, but it doesn’t apply to the rest of my life. I’m used to pushing, working for what I want. College athletics scholarship? Earned. Make the national team? Named to the team. Go to the Olympics? Done and done. Bring home a medal? Check. Become the best at my sport? Still a work in progress, but I’m still working on it.

So when I get home, before I let myself shower and change, I call my agent. Alycia answers on the second ring.

“I was just about to call you,” she says, and I laugh, because that’s what she always says.

“Sure. What about?”

“A brand wants to do a few collabs with you.”

I sit up straight. “Really?”

“Yeah. They sell some sort of probiotic juice.”

Oh.

“Quasi-health food?”

She can probably hear the disappointment in my voice. I like to support products I believe in. I’m not interested in selling myself to the highest bidder; I want there to be substance to the campaigns I promote.

“You don’t have to talk about the health benefits. Just how good it tastes and that it’s a probiotic,” Alycia assures me.

“Does it actually taste good?”

“It’s… not bad,” she hedges. “The ginger peach flavor is decent.”

My laugh is bitter. “So I’d be endorsing a shit product and lying about it to the world.”

“Well, when you put it that way…” Alycia sighs. “If you only want campaigns that you fully believe in, you’re limiting your options.”

“I don’t want to lie.”

“I don’t think of it as lying. It’s just…”

“It’s lying and deceiving the people who follow me if I don’t actually believe in the product. That’s a hard limit for me, Alycia,” I tell her.

She sighs again. “Okay. I’ll tell them no. We can go back to the drawing board.”

“Thanks.” My voice comes out wooden. I know she’s working hard. I know I’m not making it easy on her. “Send me a sample of the juice. I’ll try it. Maybe it isn’t as bad as you say.”

“You got it.” I can hear the smile in her voice. “Aside from that, I’m still putting out feelers. Pump It Up Protein wants to do another project with you, but they’re still working on concrete plans. They definitely want you.”

“I’m in.” Pump It Up is one of my regular sponsors. And as a bonus, I actually like their protein powder. They make a watermelon lemonade flavored protein powder that I add to water and sip all day long. “I’m running low on stock.”

“I’ll see if they can send some more over,” Alycia says. “Birdie Sportswear is hosting a dinner next week with some other influencers. Are you interested?”

I’ve heard of Birdie. They typically feature more petite body types than mine. Lean, slim, toned, their models are usually half my size. There’s nothing wrong with that. I just don’t fit their usual demographic.

“Are you sure they want me ?”

I’m not trying to be a Negative Nancy, shutting down all of her suggestions. At the end of the day, I’d rather focus on the real world than on maybes and what ifs. I don’t trust that these big brands actually want me to promote their companies. There must be some trickery afoot.

“They’re expanding with a new Fit and Strong line,” she says. “They reached out first.”

In that case…

“Sure, I’ll be there.”

Alycia and I chat for a few more minutes, debriefing on practice and all the other things in my life. Her firm represents both Chuck and Perry as well as my sister Janine, the champion swimmer, though we all have different agents to prevent conflict of interest. She dated Perry for a hot minute in college before they decided they worked better as friends, and I swooped in and stole her for myself. I’ve known her for the better part of a decade. She knows my whole family, my history, the reason I’m sober. And never, not once, has she told me to get over it.

Maybe it’s a little silly to be holding onto all those strong emotions after all these years. I’m a different person now than I was three years ago. He can’t help being the person who brings them all out. If he hadn’t left before I woke up, would I still have all this animosity toward him? I honestly don’t know.

One thing’s for certain; if the last few weeks have taught me anything, it’s that no matter where I go, I can’t escape him. Between his sister being on my team, his brother being teammates with all my friends’ boyfriends, and both of us being professional athletes, we’re surely going to keep running into each other, whether we like it or not.