TORI'S POV
"Martinez! Pay attention!" Coach Rivera snapped, breaking my trance.
"Sorry," I mumbled, forcing my eyes away from the tennis courts.
I'd been watching Ethan play for the last twenty minutes instead of focusing on our own exhibition. I couldn't help it. The way he moved across the court was mesmerizing—all controlled power and precision.
Each serve looked effortless, though I knew better. Nothing about tennis was effortless.
"You got your head in the game today?" Maya asked, bouncing a volleyball against my shoulder.
"Yeah, of course," I lied.
"Uh-huh." She followed my gaze toward the tennis courts.
"Thinking about Tennis Boy?"
"No." Another lie.
How was I supposed to focus when less than twelve hours ago I'd woken up in his bed? The memory made my cheeks burn. What had I been thinking? I never did stuff like that. Never lost control like that.
"Tori, seriously, what's going on?" Maya pressed. "You've been weird all morning."
I sighed. "I did something stupid last night."
"What kind of stupid?" Her eyes widened. "Wait. Did you and Tennis Boy—"
"I don't want to talk about it," I cut her off. "Please."
She stared at me in shock. "Oh my god. You did!"
"Maya, drop it."
"But—"
"I said drop it!"
She raised her hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. But you're telling me everything later."
Coach blew her whistle, signaling for us to take positions for the demonstration. I tried to focus, I really did. But my mind kept drifting back to Ethan's apartment. How did I even end up there? The last clear memory I had was getting the news about the Olympic scout. After that, everything was a blur and... Ethan's mouth on mine.
God, I kissed him. I actually kissed Ethan Harrington. And then apparently spent the night in his bed. What was wrong with me?
"Martinez! Your serve!" Coach called.
I tossed the ball up and smacked it with more force than necessary, sending it rocketing over the net.
"Damn, girl," Josie whistled. "Save some for the actual games."
I forced a smile, but inside I was fuming—at myself, at Ethan, at the whole situation. I'd been so careful all these years. Never drank at parties. Never let my guard down around guys. One night with Ethan and all my rules went out the window.
I knew I was a lightweight. One drink was usually my limit. But last night I'd been so excited about the scout, and also proving Ethan that I can take one more drink, so caught up in the moment.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
A roar from the tennis courts caught my attention. I glanced over just in time to see Ethan win his match. He looked amazing—flushed with victory, his hair damp with sweat, a huge smile on his face as he shook hands with his opponent.
For a split second, our eyes met across the field. My stomach did a weird flip. I quickly looked away, pretending I hadn't been staring.
But a commotion from the tennis courts caught everyone's attention. People were shouting, moving quickly.
I turned to look and my heart stopped.
Ethan was on the ground.
Without thinking, I took off running, sprinting across the field toward the tennis courts.
"Tori! Where are you going?" Coach yelled after me, but I didn't stop.
I pushed through the gathering crowd, panic rising in my chest.
"Ethan?" I called, dropping to my knees beside him. He was curled on his side, face contorted in pain. "Ethan, can you hear me?"
His eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first, then fixating on my face.
"Tori?" he gasped.
"I'm here," I said, helping him into a sitting position. "What happened? Are you okay?"
He winced, pressing a hand to his chest. "Can't... breathe right."
"Someone call an ambulance!" I shouted, my voice cracking with fear.
"No ambulance," he wheezed. "Just... give me a minute. I'll be…be…fine."
"Ethan, you collapsed! You need a doctor!"
His tennis coach knelt on his other side. "Is it your chest again, Ethan?"
Ethan nodded weakly.
"Again?" I repeated. "This has happened before?"
"It's nothing," Ethan insisted, but his pale face said otherwise. The vulnerability in his eyes caught me off guard. This wasn't the confident tennis star everyone knew. This was just the human and fragile Ethan.
Something shifted inside me. All the anger I'd been feeling toward him, toward myself, softened just a little.
We stared at each other, neither of us knowing what to say next. The noise of the crowd seemed to fade away.
It was just us, his blue eyes locked on mine, something unspoken passing between us.
The moment was shattered by a harsh voice cutting through the crowd.
"Ethan, what the hell happened?"
I turned to see a tall man in an expensive suit pushing through the onlookers. His face was a harder, older version of Ethan's, his expression a mix of anger and concern.
I looked between them in confusion. Then it clicked, the same blue eyes, the same strong jawline.
He was the Vice Chancellor of West ridge and…he’s Ethan's father.