Love Match (8 page)

Maya wasn't sure she should tell Travis about the offer. Since Cleo had been there when Jordan made it, they'd had to tell Renee to be fair. They didn't like keeping secrets in their friendship. They'd agreed that it shouldn't go any further than the three of them, though. They didn't want to risk Nicole finding out.

Travis had more experience in this area than any of them. He didn't have an agent yet, but he'd been around his father's business stuff all his life. Then again, Travis was friends with Nicole, and Maya was afraid of this getting back to her. But if they really were going to be friends, she'd have to start out by trusting him.

“Okay,” Maya said, more to herself than to Travis. “But you can't tell anyone. Not even your father.”

“Maya, I don't tell my dad
everything
,” he said.

Maya wasn't so sure about that, but she told Travis the story about how Jordan “randomly” bumped into her anyway.
It wasn't nearly as exciting a retelling as it had been when Renee kept jumping in with gossipy questions. It just sounded like a simple business transaction, which it probably was.

“That's incredible,” Travis said. “Dad's been pushing his agent to represent me for a while now, but he keeps pushing back. Says it's ‘too early.' I haven't even gotten an official college offer yet. That's if I decide not to go straight to the pros.”

“So, you think I should do it?”

“I didn't say that.” Travis took a sip of his drink while he thought over her situation. “It's good that you've got interest from an agent. But if there's one, there are probably others. You have to figure out who comes with the best offer.”

“Like someone not representing the girl who wants to wipe the courts with me? Or completely wipe me off the courts?”

Travis shook his head. “A good agent keeps her clients separate. You don't have to worry about something like that with Jordan. I mean, you should be
aware
of it, but don't let that be the deciding factor.”

Maya sucked on a sliver of ice. Travis hadn't said much, but he gave her a lot to consider. The problem with talking to Cleo and Renee was that they'd both focused on the scandalous part of Nicole's agent asking to represent Maya. But Travis was right. Jordan represented several clients. Why should any of them get in the way of Maya's plans?

By the time Maya finished her second blue drink, she'd forgotten all about Jordan's offer and was entirely focused on Travis. This friendship thing was fun. She didn't spend all her time worrying about impressing him or saying the right thing or
even wondering what his motivations were. She wasn't even thinking about kissing him, although his blue-tinted lips were kind of cute.

Okay, maybe she was thinking a little bit about kissing him.

Cleo's yell brought an abrupt end to that thought. “Maya! It's almost curfew!”

Maya grabbed Travis's arm and looked at his watch. They only had fifteen minutes to make the ten-minute drive back to campus. Add in the time it would take to work their way out of the crowded club and wait in line for the valet, and they were pushing it. “We've got to go.”

“It's okay, girls,” Renee said. “We're cool. I blow curfew all the time. Nobody cares. Cleo, go back to that girl on the dance floor. She looks lonely without you.”

Maya calmed down. Renee was right. She'd missed curfew once before and hadn't even gotten a slap on the wrist.

“No,” Cleo insisted. “We've got to go. I'm not the daughter of an ambassador, the son of the school owner, the newest ‘it boy' on campus, or the up-and-coming tennis star. Curfew means something different for me.”

There was no anger in Cleo's accusation. She was just stating the facts. But it bothered Maya all the same.

“You won the Invitational,” Maya reminded her. “If anyone here is an up-and-coming sports star, it's you.”

“And yet, nobody's inviting me to private receptions,” Cleo said.

Maya relented. “Okay, we should go. We can always continue our night on campus. Although Cleo won't be able to bring her new friend.”

“No worries.” Cleo held up her cell phone. “I got her digits. You don't really think I'd just pull a Cinderella because the clock struck curfew, do you?”

The girls laughed as they made their way through the club. En route to the exit, it was agreed that Diego would ride back with Renee and Cleo, leaving Maya alone with Travis and his pouty blue lips.

As they exited into the cool night air, Maya wasn't surprised to find Travis's arm wrapped around her again. It felt more natural now that they were friends talking about the kinds of things she talked about with her other friends.

Travis held the door open for her as she climbed into the car, waving to the cameras that flashed all around her as if she were a real celebrity.

“Oh. My. Frickin'. Goddess!”

Maya looked up from her history textbook. She'd been trying to fit in some extra homework before classes. She was still behind due to her week at the Open and her impressive social schedule. Cleo's outburst caused her to lose her place in her reading, but that wasn't important. A stage-five freak-out was happening on the other side of the dorm room.

“I'm on the Wall!” Cleo's hands waved wildly toward her computer screen. “I'm on the frickin' Wall!”

“Oh, Cleo,” Maya said. “I'm so sorry.”

The Wall was a gossip site that followed all the hottest of the hot in movies, TV, and music. Occasionally a sports celeb made it onto the site, like that one time Maya found herself providing a little extra color for a story about Nicole. She wasn't looking forward to repeating that experience.

“Whatever,” Cleo said. “Oh, I know I'm supposed to be
above these gossip rags, but it's totally different when you see a picture of yourself in an article that's already gotten thousands and thousands of page views. That's pretty sweet. I'm on the frickin' Wall!”

Maya forced a smile. “Well, that's wonderful, Cleo. About time someone noticed your accomplishments. You deserve some press.”

“Thanks,” Cleo said. “But the article's not about me. I'm just in the background of the picture. My name isn't even mentioned.”

“Then what …” A feeling of dread crept over Maya as she recalled those flashing cameras from the night before. She'd been so naïve to wave at them thinking the photographers were on the prowl for a real celebrity. “Please tell me it's an article about a hot new soccer stud from Rio.”

“Oh, no,” Cleo said. “This one is about American sports royalty: the football prince and his new lady love.”

Maya didn't want to see the article, but she had to find out what people were writing about her. Homework was forgotten for the moment, and probably for the rest of the day. She reluctantly took the four long, difficult steps across the room to look at the screen of Cleo's computer.

A big picture of Maya and Travis walking arm in arm out of 360 was at the top of the page. Cleo and Renee were in the background. What looked to be Diego's arm made it into the picture as well. There was no doubt who the stars of the article were by the way the camera was angled for maximum couple-itude. And if there was any doubt, the article below it dashed that right away, beginning with the headline:

FOOTBALL PRINCE WITH TENNIS PAUPER.

Ouch
.

The entire article seemed to be created solely around the photo. The writer managed to find a surprising amount of information about Maya, particularly that she was a scholarship student at the Academy. It made a lot of assumptions from that fact alone, building a
Romeo and Juliet
type of story about two teens from different worlds. Maya's family had always struggled with money, but she never thought of herself as
poor
. But calling her lower middle class didn't get page views, apparently.

“That's so dumb,” Maya said. “Romeo and Juliet were both rich.”

“So not the point, Maya,” Cleo said. “You've gone mainstream media. I wouldn't be surprised if more agents started jumping out from behind bushes to offer you representation on the way to class.”

Cleo's wild imagination aside, Maya knew that she should be excited. This was part of what she'd been dreaming of for years. Success and fame went hand in hand. It just felt cheaper since she hadn't even had any real success yet.

None of that really bothered her. This was the second time the Wall linked her with a Reed brother she wasn't currently dating. She didn't like that people she'd never met were investing page space in stories putting them together. She was especially bothered to see that complete strangers were already commenting on it beneath the article.

But she was particularly concerned about Jake.

…

The morning turned out to be an exact replica of the first time Maya appeared on the Wall. Total strangers smiled at her and waved hello as she made her way across campus. More people congratulated her about the article than had about the Open. It was as if being on the Wall was somehow a better accomplishment than a good game at a midlevel tournament. That said a lot about priorities at the Academy.

It was all a little much for Maya to deal with. She was glad that she had a practice match scheduled on the court. There was no better way to clear her head than by smashing that small rubber ball at an opponent on the other side of the net.

It was her first real practice since the tournament and Maya was on fire. Her legs were fully functional once again—no pain, no strain—and nothing got past her. Not a slice. Not a lob. Nothing.

Maya was all over the court. If the ball dropped short of the net, Maya was there. A high, overhead shot? No problem. Every single time, she slammed it back with force. Her mind was clear of everything but the ball.

Maya's sparring partner, Lindsey Jacobs, hopped the net and was standing in front of Maya before she even realized the match was over.

“That was incredible!” Lindsey said. “Normally, I hate to lose. I mean, who doesn't hate to lose? But you creamed me. On the bright side, I can now say the girl who held her own against Donata Zajacova punished me in our game.”

“What?” Maya didn't even know what Lindsey was saying as the girl continued to ramble on about everything under the Florida sun. It came out so rushed, like she was racing to get
in everything she could before Maya left. All Maya could make out was “Blah, blah, blah, story on the Wall!”

Was this what Maya sounded like when she first met Nicole? But Maya had known Lindsey for weeks now. They'd grabbed frozen yogurts after practice together a couple times. She never talked like that before.

“I mean, you squashed me,” Lindsey continued. “You scored point after point, and I was stuck on love.”

“What?”
Stuck on love
was such a funny little phrase, but Lindsey was right. She hadn't scored a single point.

Maya hadn't even noticed. Just like she hadn't noticed the small crowd of classmates that had gathered to watch their game; that were still hanging by the other side of the fence.

Suddenly, all the million things that had been crowding Maya's mind came flooding back. Jordan. Travis. Jake. The Wall. Everything. It didn't help that Lindsey wouldn't shut up.

“Thank you,” Maya said, when she just wanted to tell Lindsey to get over it. Maya was hyperaware that she had to be kind even though she had an overwhelming desire to get out of there. She didn't want anyone confusing her with Nicole.

After enduring a few more gushing tributes, Maya excused herself as politely as she could and left the court. She wanted to be alone, but she needed something to drink. Water wouldn't be enough to restock the electrolytes she'd lost in that game. She knew she should get away from the area, but nothing would quench her thirst like one of the energy drinks they served at the café beside the courts, aptly named Slice.

Heads turned to see who'd come into the café, and everyone lingered a bit longer than usual when they saw it was Maya.

While all the attention in the place was aimed at Maya, she was focused on someone else: Nicole. Oddly, the most popular girl in school sat alone, hunched over like she didn't want to be disturbed. Nicole must have spent some time cultivating that pose of casual indifference. It was rare to see her without a pack of admirers.

Maya discreetly eyed Nicole. The tennis star held her icy drink against the same wrist she'd nursed while she put makeup on after her match.

Nicole was casual about it. The drink just seemed to be resting there. She certainly didn't look like she was icing her wrist. But to Maya it was as bright as a neon sign on a dark country road. It had been days since the tournament and she was still in pain. That wasn't good.

Nicole raised her drink and their eyes met. Without a word, Nicole slammed down her cup and stood, making a quick exit. She wasn't embarrassed or ashamed. She was mad. Maya knew her secret. And it was going to cost her.

Maya sat with her drink at a table in the corner doing her best to adopt Nicole's unwelcoming pose. The last thing she wanted was for anyone to think she was like her former idol, but she had to admit it worked. Everyone backed off, which gave her some time to consider what to do about Nicole.

It was crazy that Nicole hadn't seen a doctor about her wrist. That much was obvious since it wasn't wrapped and cold drinks weren't exactly the best way to ice an injury.
But why?
The next major tournament was weeks away. She had plenty of time to heal. If anything, Nicole could use the injury as an
excuse for why she hadn't played that well against Dona. Bloggers still gave her a hard time for not crushing Dona. It was a completely unfair accusation, but Nicole was never afraid to milk the media for attention. An injury would be the perfect way to change the story.