After Happily Ever After by Astrid Ohletz & Alex K Thorne

Author:Astrid Ohletz & Alex K Thorne [Ohletz, Astrid & Thorne, Alex K]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Lesbian Fiction
ISBN: 9783963243301
Publisher: Ylva Publishing
Published: 2020-03-20T04:00:00+00:00

If you enjoyed All Wrapped Up, check out All the Little Moments to really get to know Anna, Lane, Ella, and Toby.

No Going Back

by Cheyenne Blue

“The world number one does not lose in the first round of a grand slam tournament.” Her coach crouched beside the ice bath, his gaze dispassionate on Alina’s nearly naked body.

Alina sank lower in the frigid water and tried not to shiver as the cold bit into her aching muscles. “This number one just did.” She shrugged, striving for a nonchalance she didn’t feel. Nausea rose in her throat, forced up by the crushing disappointment of her failure and she blinked fast to control the tears that threatened. “It happens.”

No chance of a kind or consoling word from Anatoly. Her coach treated her like a machine. A thing to be fuelled efficiently, brought to peak fitness, and doubtless discarded once it was no longer profitable. Her emotions were irrelevant.

Anatoly’s lips tightened to a thin line. “The number one ranking is now achievable for five players from this tournament. Jelena Kovic or Simona Halep have only to reach the semi-finals. Serena Williams can retake the ranking if she wins the final.”

“Even Serena has lost in the first round of a grand slam.” Alina winced as her aching hip spasmed. Was this the start of her slide in the rankings? She forced her mind away from the negative thinking. That was a loser’s mindset. And she was a winner—next time. She had to be.

“Serena’s loss was the 2012 French Open. Not since then. You would do well to study her determination.” Anatoly rose, his face a blank mask. “Tonight, we will analyse your loss, pinpoint where you went wrong. Tomorrow, we will work on your weaknesses.”

Alina closed her eyes momentarily. She hadn’t had a day away from tennis in nearly three months. Even the off-season—December—had been spent at Delacourt Academy in Florida. She’d spent Christmas Day doing footwork drills. She clenched her fist under the water. She would not spend another evening with Anatoly listening as he picked apart her game, her tennis skills, her fitness, and then, invariably, he would focus on the personal—her looks and what she needed to do to gain better sponsorship. No. Anatoly could go hang himself.

“I have a date. Mikhail and I are going for dinner.” It wasn’t true, but she was sure she could talk Mikhail into it. His first-round match wasn’t until late the following day.

Anatoly grunted. “Be back early. I’ve reserved a practice court for 6:00 am.”

She didn’t reply, simply sank lower so that the ice water circled her neck. It was as frozen as her heart.

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