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CHAPTER ONE
CHLOE
"Get it up, Chloe. Liftthat racquet! Now, run." My coach’s voice matched the man; his huge, musculature frame frittering in the biggest and best from Dolph Lundgren's gene pool at some point.
It never occurred to menotto want to run. My legs screamed, and the first classes of the day hadn’t started yet, but I didn’t stop until finally,finally,Felix held up a hand, bouncing a bright yellow ball on his racket.
"Good girl."
Feeling more like I earned a puppy pat on the head than working my ass off while the rest of the student population at Rippton U was still recovering from last night’s hangover, I threw him the bright smile my sister coached me into wearing years ago for the media. The one I stuck on my face daily, because it was easiest.
In case there was a camera, or some other random who stole a photo without permission. Fake, but frugal. At least in the sense of my emotions, which were always turbulent and on high alert. For a girl with an anxiety problem, fake was best.
Felix couldn’t tell the difference between media me and real me, and he preened in the early morning sun.
It wasn’t like he’d been the one running and sweating and shattering from the inside out for the last two and a half hours of coaching before my first class of the day. Even so, I gave Felix all the effort I didn't feel, kicking my own butt across the clay court at the centre of Rippton’s brand spanking new tennis facility bearing my name.
That we were done for the morning called for celebration. I threw my hands over my head. "Victory!"
"Not so fast. Yes, you’re doing well. But you’re not flying like you did last summer. Those feet have to be fairy-level tiptoe fast if you want to beat Sarah Cummings in the next championship round. If you want a chance at a grand slam?" Felix frowned, sucking the hype out of my sails as he passed me a water bottle.
I promptly tipped its contents over my head, indulging in the ice cold crackle against my skin, the flash of pain before the contrasting temperature of the water soothed my overheated skin, trickling into my scalp. I swept away ticklish remnants from the back of my neck.
"Relax, Felix. Three months. We have time, and I’m not slacking off. Not now, not ever. I promise," I added.
He coughed and turned away, busying himself with collecting balls, kicking each up to bounce on his racket. His back was to me, but his grumpy mutter was still clear as morning dew. “The great Chloe Duke won't be ‘duking’ nothing if you don't commit to practicing more often. Four o'clock this afternoon. Be back here, with your fairy wings on."
I found myself nodding if only to make him happy.There's that innate people pleaser in me making an appearance.No matter what I did, I couldn't get away from it. My sister-slash-manager wanted me to train harder. Felix wanted me to train harder.
So train harder, I did.
If I gave any more effort, I’d be able to run my own cheerleading circuit.
"Stretch it out before you hit the showers," Felix called over his shoulder. “You know that lactic acid will screw with your ability to move later on."
I groaned. It was leg morning followed by training, and he was absolutely right. At least he wasn’t insisting on an ice bath. Maybe the fact it was winter and, once I cooled down, the pale sun’s kiss wouldn’t do much for my muscles anyway. Jeans were looking good right now.
"Only if you're not a little masochist," I sassed him back, bratting out because I could.
Because it was the only measure of control I had in my entire scheduled out life. Every minute, mouthful, and spare square inch accounted for. I didn’t have time to slack off if I wanted to. Besides, the pain egged me on, that muscular burn to work through that gave me the sort of high I could chase through leg day.
But in no way could I convince Felix otherwise.
The constant doubt he displayed and that my sister backed crippled me.
I’m working my ass as hard as I can.
But that was an excuse; I knew it for what it was. Didn’t mean I couldn’t add a dollop of self-loathing on top in a bid to sabotage my mental space.
So I stretched, turning towards the showers, grabbing my spare change of clothes and my bag and another bottle of water. "Thanks, Felix. See you this afternoon."
He grunted again, his head already buried in his notebook where he scribbled furious notes.
He was still there when I headed back out from the showers to check on him. At least if the man was going to tell me to work harder, I couldn’t argue with his work ethic. I was almost certainlead by examplewas tattooed somewhere on his body.
"I swear I'm going to get you a tablet for Christmas," I said fondly, giving Felix a one-armed hug and tapping my matching journal he gave me last birthday against his. “I promise I’ll work hard. We have this championship in the bag. Ifwe work hard," I slowed down a little so he could say the last part with me, our voices ringing around the tennis court like a doubles team.
"That's my girl." He stroked my ponytail until I flicked my head.
