“Are you wearing the brown bikini?” I finally asked. “Or do we have to go shopping?”
“They’ll have a stylist on set who’ll have picked out some pieces for me,” she said.
I’d asked the first and, albeit, stupid question that had come to mind. She had answered it in turn, but we both knew that wasn’t really what I was concerned about.
“I don’t like it,” I eventually said. “But before this turns into a fight,” I raised my voice to keep her from cutting in, “I trust you, and I trust your judgment. I know there’s a reason behind everything you do. Black bodies are beautiful, too.”
Eva smiled softly. “You’re pretty smart for having gone to college in Wisconsin.”
“Hey! Madison is a really good school,” I defended. “And unlike other D-1 athletes, I actually went to classes. Sat in the front row and everything,” I grinned.
Eva unexpectedly frowned. “I had to do my senior year online. According to most of my professors, I was too much of a distraction to be in the classroom. My classmates were more interested in getting photos of me or with me to pay attention to the old white guy at the front of the lecture hall.”
I thought back to our conversation at the resort’s workout facility. Eva’s star had always burned a little brighter. But rather than passively enduring it like an object on display, she’d chosen to lean in.
“Where’s the shoot?” I asked.
“Boca Raton.”
I raised an eyebrow. I’d always thoughtSIphotoshoots took place somewhere more glamorous or exotic. “Florida?”
“It’s not Turks and Caicos,” she conceded, “but it’s not supposed to be a vacation.”
“No. Just the most beautiful women in the world hanging out in their bathing suits,” I huffed.
“Oh, this is a new wrinkle.” Eva’s honey brown eyes crinkled at the corners. “Are you jealous, baby?”
I shut my eyes and exhaled; an involuntary wave of desire crested over me. All Eva needed to do was evoke a single word of endearment, and I turned to putty. I hoped she hadn’t caught on to my recent weakness or I was finished.
“I don’t know what I’m feeling,” I said in earnest. “I’m proud of you, obviously. It’s a really big deal to have been chosen. But I’m not exactly thrilled about all of your goodies being on display at the grocery store checkout aisle.”
“You know they don’t put those by the checkout aisle. Too many young, impressionable eyes.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do,” she conceded. “And I wasn’t going to say I wouldn’t do it if you didn’t want me to. Because it’s my decision. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about your feelings.”
I hesitated, trying to sort out the swirl of pride, worry, and—yeah—jealousy twisting inside me. The idea of her over a thousand miles away, in front of a camera flashing who-knows-where, felt unreal.
“You could come with?” she offered. “It’ll be long boring days on set, but at least we’d be together.”
“No, this is your thing,” I quickly refused. “Like you said, it’s work, not a vacation.”
She stepped closer, fingers sliding between mine. “I’ll miss you.”
“God,” I sighed, feeling sour. “How are you so good at this? Being so emotionally available and vulnerable.”
Eva didn’t answer right away. She glanced down at our hands, her thumb brushing lightly over mine like she was tracing the words on my skin before speaking them out loud.
“I’ve gotten good at pretending,” she said. “Saying what people want to hear, doing what sponsors and coaches and fans expect. But with you … I don’t want to perform. I just want to bereal.”
She looked up at me. “Being vulnerable doesn’t feel like a risk when I know I’m safe with you.”
There’d been a time—not that long ago—when Eva’s composure drove me insane. The calm voice in post-game interviews, the polished social media captions, the perfectly curated life. But this? This wasn’t for the cameras. And God, it was so damn hard not to fall harder.
“Jesus,” I muttered. “You’re going to ruin me for anyone else.”
Eva smiled, her eyes warm. “That’s the plan.”
