Page 67 of Backhanded Compliments

Luca shrugs. “It’s a cruel summer.” The broadcast returns to Juliette serving in the first game of the third set.

“I thought you disliked her,” Vladimir says suddenly, and Luca snaps her head to look at him.

“Dislike who?” She blinks, and Vladimir’s lips curve into a barely there smile.

“Ricci,” he says, gesturing to the television.

“Oh.” Luca looks back to see Juliette acing Xinya to even the game at thirty-all.

“Are you two getting closer?” Vladimir presses, and Luca plants her cheek on her hand to hide her blush. She shrugs, aiming for nonchalance, but Vladimir laughs.

Whatever is brewing between them, Luca knows it’s too delicate. She’s afraid that any misplaced word will break the tentative strings holding them together, and she can’t lose Juliette. Not when she’s only had the briefest taste of her. Luca wants to explore the boundaries of this relationship, and it seems Juliette does, too. If that means they get closer, so be it.

“I don’t know,” Luca says, fiddling with her phone. For two days, she’s been texting Juliette. It’s different from talking, easier, since she can’t see Juliette’s face or read too much into her reactions.

Although, sometimes it’s worse. Luca often has to swallow the itching desire to respond within seconds.

“Really?” Vladimir’s voice drips with incredulous snark.

Luca is half-tempted to throw a pillow at him. “You know I’m not good with feelings,” she mutters.

“Oh, so there are feelings involved?”

Luca smashes the pillow into her own face and groans. “No!” she shouts through the fabric.

When she lowers the pillow, Vladimir stares at her with a knowing look. “Be serious, Luca.”

Luca picks at the peeling skin around her thumb and says nothing. She doesn’t know what to say.

“I will always advocate for your happiness. I may be your coach, but I also love you as if you were my own child,” Vladimir says, achingly sincere.

Luca’s eyes sting, and she swallows around the sudden lump in her throat. Vladimir has never been the sentimental type. He is a quiet listener, a gentle soother, but never someone who outright says what Luca needs to hear.

“And I know how much tennis means to you,” Vladimir adds. “I love seeing you play at this level, and if you hated it, I would tell you to quit. But you do love it, Luca. And I don’t know if this relationship is good for you.” His tone is pointed, and Luca understands why.

Her last relationship had not ended well. Mae was another tennis player and had known that Luca wouldn’t always prioritize her. They had agreed to keep their relationship to “just sex,” but Luca’s heart hadn’t gotten the memo. When she expressed that she wanted more, that she wasin love, Mae had recoiled.

Luca doesn’t blame her, not anymore.

Still, after the breakup, she didn’t win a match for three months. She lost touch with her friends.

Except Nicky. He held tight and didn’t let her disappear. He andVladimir rebuilt Luca from the demolished rubble and helped her suture up her fractured heart and feelings. She started winning again. Clawed her way into main draws of important tournaments, got notoriety and sponsors and a nickname from tennis fans.

Now, she’s on that precipice again and hoping she won’t be crushed.

Luca looks up at Vladimir, a gentleness to his pale gaze that Luca is still uncomfortable under. It has taken years to build a tennis career and she has sacrificed relationships, friendships, and family to be in this position. Several of her exes hated that she didn’t prioritize them.

“I know.” Luca’s heart has never been particularly adept at compartmentalizing, and a part of her still worries that Juliette is only messing around to try to throw Luca off her game. “I’m figuring out the boundaries,” she says finally.

Her life is nearly perfect now, except she can’t keep her nagging anxiety from telling her that Juliette is only going to hurt her in the end. Her heart feels like a grenade, ready to explode after any rejection. She needs to be careful, outline the boundaries of whatever this is, and not implode her life from the inside out. This won’t—itcan’t—be like last time.

“If Juliette makes you happy, I will be happy. I want you to reach your goals, so if they’ve changed, I need to know,” Vladimir says.

Luca heaves out a sigh. “I want everything.”

“Life rarely gives you that,” Vladimir says with a rueful smile.

Luca leans her head back against the couch and lolls it back toward the television. Juliette has lost her serve, and Xinya is poised to win her next game.

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