Page 79 of Backhanded Compliments

It’s strangely euphoric. A weight lifts off her shoulders at being able to wander through the throngs of people without having to act a certain way. She doesn’t need to smile, worry about where her hands are in photos, or focus on giving every kid an autograph. She does love doing those things, it’s an integral part of her job as a professional athlete, but it does get exhausting.

Luca has never been to the Miami boardwalk before—too many people—and yet, nostalgia aches in her chest. It reminds her of the February Carnival in Zadar that she used to go to as a child with her mother. Colorful, bright, full of laughter and music, and the scent of fried food wafting in the air.

But the Floridians are wearing big sunglasses to ward off the sun instead of masks to ward off evil spirits.

The ocean is off to their right, crystallized aqua, and full of women in string bikinis and men in Speedos, all toasting over someoccasion. Luca smiles as she looks away, just in time to catch Juliette with her camera trained on her.

“Hey,” Luca admonishes even though she isn’t upset, “no photos, paparazzi.”

Juliette flushes. “Sorry.” The wind ruffles her curls, getting a few strands caught in her lashes.

“I’m kidding, relax,” Luca says, walking in step with Juliette as they weave around a bunch of teenage girls taking a group photo, arms wrapped around each other.

“You always catch me, it’s hard to get a candid of you,” Juliette says, fiddling with the camera. She holds it close to herself, protecting it from anyone who could carelessly throw their limbs into her path.

“I guess I always know when you’re looking,” Luca says, and she expects Juliette to laugh and look away, but instead her gaze stays steady with hers. The sun slants perfectly over Juliette’s face, the silhouette of the palm leaves tracing her cheekbone. “Thank you for inviting me,” Luca says softly. A small smile touches Juliette’s lips, more shy than usual.

“I’m glad you said yes,” Juliette says, and Luca’s heartbeat picks up. She rubs the back of her neck and nods, suddenly too hot under Juliette’s gaze.

“Jules!” Livia breaks the moment, coming out of nowhere, and Luca almost stumbles into her. “Can you get me a fruity cocktail of some sort?” she asks, batting her lashes.

“You’re twenty,” Juliette says.

Livia pouts. “I can legally drink in Europe! It’s not fair that America has silly rules.”

Juliette frowns at her, but with a heavy sigh, she slips her vintage camera back into her satchel and nods. “Fine. But only one.” She looks at Luca. “You want anything?”

Luca shakes her head. She isn’t one for cocktails, preferring a small glass of wine when she does indulge. “I can come—” Luca starts to say, but Livia’s arm loops through hers.

“Thanks! You’re the best!” Livia calls over her shoulder as shetugs Luca toward an open storefront ornamented with dream catchers and wind chimes.

A shopkeeper sits on a stool next to one of the tables covered in racks of necklaces, eyeing them as they approach. They sweep through the thin gauze that hangs as a doorway. It’s much smaller inside than Luca anticipated. Most of the wares are on the tables outside, but the two rows of counters hold dozens of sparkling crystals.

Another shopkeeper sits next to the counter, watching them under hooded eyes as an elderly woman asks about getting a ring polished.

“Do you like crystals, Luca?” Livia asks.

“Crystals?”

“Yes. They’re used for all sorts of things. I snuck a clear quartz into each of my sisters’ tennis bags to help them reach their dreams. It’s like channeling energy. Or at least that’s what the internet tells me.”

Luca fiddles with her fingers as Livia moves with ease through the middle aisle.

“I’m not much of a jewelry person,” Luca says. Every necklace or bracelet she’s ever worn, she’s fiddled with until it snapped or wore away.

“What about a fidget ring?” Livia asks, spinning one of the ring stands. “You pick at your nails a lot.”

Luca shoves her hands into her pockets, swallowing back a defensive retort. “I don’t like wearing rings.”

Livia pauses. “Interesting.”

She isn’t sure what Livia is aiming at.

“How about a rose quartz?” Livia says, plucking an oddly shaped pink crystal from seemingly nowhere. “How is your love life?” She says it casually, as if she’s simply asking about the weather, but suddenly it all slots into place.

She’s asking about Luca’s relationship with Juliette.

Luca bites her lip, trying not to think about Juliette’s slick fingers driving into her and pushing her over the edge. She has no idea what to say.

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