Fans were already speculating about a possible romance after the emotional post-game moment when Montgomery and Bennet shared a kiss on the court following the Shamrocks’ playoff loss last month. The photo went viral within hours, sparking a wave of fan theories and heart-eyed commentary across social media.
Now, new vacation photos have all but confirmed the couple’s off-court chemistry. The pictures, reportedly taken at a private resort in Mexico earlier this month, show Montgomery and Bennet hand-in-hand, sharing a kiss by their villa’s plunge pool and enjoying sunset dinners in breezy resort wear. Though neither athlete has officially commented on the relationship, the internet has done the talking for them.
“Enemies-to-lovers is my favorite genre and Lex & Eva arethe blueprint,” one fan wrote on Threads.
Another added, “I’m not saying I believe in love again because of this, but I’m also notnotsaying it.”
Neither player has issued an official statement, but at this point, they may not need to. From fierce on-court rivals to one of the most buzzed-about couples in professional sports, Montgomery and Bennet have given fans a storyline straight out of a romance novel—and the internet is here for it.
Chapter
Four
Ifrowned, scrolling through the story on the gossip website. We’d barely been back from Mexico for twenty-four hours before the images had been splashed all over the internet. Photos of us in our supposedly private pool. Photos of us walking around the resort property, hand-in-hand. Photographs of us at dinner.
I clenched my phone tighter when I got to the photo of Eva feeding me the last bite of her caramel flan. Iknewthe people at the nearby tables had been taking pictures of us. I hadn’t been paranoid.
None of the shots were overly intimate or scandalous, but they still made me feel exposed. Was this my life now? Every time we stepped into public, would I have to wonder who was watching, who was documenting it?
This was exactly what Eva had been trying to avoid when we first started dating. She hadn’t wanted to go public, not because she was ashamed, but because she was private. My frown deepened with the realization—she’d wanted to shield me from the public scrutiny she’d become accustomed to.
Her family and close friends knew she was a lesbian, but she’d never formally come out to the public. The door of thatself-induced closet had been thrown open, however, when she’d kissed me after a gut-wrenching loss had ended the Shamrocks’ playoff run.
I hadn’t asked about her decision to kiss me in such a public venue. Her declaration of love and her lips on mine had felt organically motivated, but I also knew how careful she’d been to control her image in the past—the endorsements she cultivated, her social media presence, down to the clothing she wore pre-game.
The explosion of attention had been immediate. The images had gone viral, showing up on platforms from mainstream sports media to gossip and entertainment rags. It had been a good photo, though—even I had to admit that. Paper confetti drifted down from the stadium rafters like a gentle snowfall. I’d still been in my Shamrocks jersey while she’d been cloaked in leather, denim, and skyscraper heels.
I had hoped a few media cycles would push us off the trending lists. But now, with the vacation photos circulating, it was clear that the spotlight wasn’t dimming anytime soon.
I looked toward the front door of Eva’s Chicago penthouse at the sound of a key in the lock. Eva had been out all morning, getting her hair done in the wake of our tropical vacation. The new Senegalese twists were terribly sexy, longer and thicker than the box braids she’d worn during the season, but I was too distracted by photos from our vacation showing up online to appreciate the new look.
“Have you seen this?” I asked. I held up my phone as she entered the living room.
Eva slipped out of her shoes in the foyer. “Photos from our not-so-private vacation?”
“Uh huh.”
“Veronica sent me the link,” she confirmed.
She’d recently hired a publicist to help manage the non-basketball parts of her career. I hadn’t met the woman yet, so the jury was still out. If she could help manage Eva’s stress, however, I was all for it.
I followed Eva into the kitchen, where floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over Lake Michigan and Navy Pier. She’d bought the place right after the season had ended—a bold decision, but not surprising. Chicago had paid a king’s ransom for her in one of the most aggressive trades in league history. If the franchise was all in on her, it made sense for Eva to plant roots here, too.
I didn’t have a place myself, unless you counted my childhood bedroom in Middleton, Wisconsin. The Shamrocks took care of us during the season with team housing, and I could have chosen to stay in the Boston apartment during the off-season, too, but Eva and I were already going to be long-distance from May to October. We would have to find a way to make it work without either of us compromising our playing career. Maybe it was foolish to live together so soon, moving faster than any U-Haul, but I missed her when we were apart.
“Let me guess—all PR is good PR?” I asked.
Eva opened the fridge, stared inside, and then closed the door without taking anything. “Something like that,” she said, exhaling a little too hard.
Her sigh sounded tired. Resigned. I hadn’t meant to pile on.
“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “I didn’t mean to jump on you as soon as you walked in the door.”
“And not even in the fun way either,” she half teased.
I closed the distance between us and settled my hands on her hips. I reached up and brushed my fingers along the back of her neck where her new twists grazed the soft skin above her collar. I gently cupped the back of her neck and drew her head down until our mouths were only a breath away.
“Let’s try this again,” I murmured against her lips.
