Page 117 of A Summer of Stars

I listened, trying to pull the ring off my pinky, as he continued. “I recognized you immediately; you were on the cover ofTheNew York Timesthat morning. I could see you arguing with this old man at the counter. I almost walked across the street to find out what was wrong because he was flailing his arms, red in the face. But I paused on the sidewalk as you threw your hand up, gold bracelets flying down the length of your arm, getting him to stop talking. I still have no idea what you said to him, but it put him in his place.”

Frustratingly, I twisted the ring on my finger, unable to get it to budge. “What are you trying to say?” I asked.

He looked down at my hand, evidently unhappy that I wasn’t more invested in his story. I just didn’t have the energy for a pep speech. I wanted to wallow in the chaos.

Turning the sink on, he put my finger under the faucet. I pulled it away.

“That never works,” I complained.

He held my hand again and pressed each of my fingers into a fist until only my pinkie was left. I watched as he carried my fist and placed my finger between his lips. I froze. He ran his tongue over the band before retrieving the ring, dragging it off with his teeth,and returning my hand to my lap. He parted his lips, exposing the ring the same way you’d show off a knotted cherry stem, placing it on the counter.

He sprawled his hands out on either side of my hips. My heart stopped as he leaned in close. “What I was trying to say was that the day I first saw you in that shop was the day I knew I wanted to know you. Let me give you a lesson in Luna Aldridge: She doesn’t let anyone stand in her way or tell her how things are going to be.”

His glance darted between my eyes, reaffirming that I was hearing him. “Have some faith in who you are, Luna Aldridge. I know I do.”

SEPTEMBER

US Open, New York City

“The US Open Is Off to a Heated Start for Luna Aldridge”

—Sartorially

NEW YORK MIGHTbe painful during the winter when dirty snow covered every sidewalk, and the wind tunnels between corporate buildings made your eyes tear up, but at least you could layer scarves and escape to a store that had efficient heat. In my opinion, a New York summer was so much more brutal. Never underestimate the first week of September. Those last days of summer, there was no ridding yourself of the slick sweat that stuck to your skin. Especially not when the sun was beating down on your scalp as tennis balls charged at you.

Cecilia stood beside Coach at the side of the court. He’d yell a correction as she yelled tasks on my list.

“Fix that wrist!” Felix shouted. I let my wrist bend backward.

“Did you confirm with your dad about Mr. Alvarez?” Cecilia asked.

“Yes!” It came out in a strangled breath.

“Don’t lean forward, you’ll lose your balance!” he ordered.

I pushed my shoulders back, not having the energy to tell himthat my form was off because it felt like I was playing inside a sauna. My ankles were sore, my feet were swimming in my socks, and my mouth was dry, drinking in air as if it were water. The last ten days of matches had been brutally hot. But I had to thrive in the worst conditions. If I could play in the worst conditions, then I could play even better out of them during the final tomorrow.

“Walt called to see if you were around tomorrow!”

“Is. That. A. Joke?” I repeated each word as I hit each ball.

“Unsure,” she responded.

“Get a backhand in there!” Coach commanded.

“Your dress is done for Sunday’s premiere!” she reminded me. “You also have an interview withTennis Todaynext week for their ‘Women in Tennis’ feature.”

I blew a piece of hair out of my face. “Great,” I mumbled.

“Then—Amir, not right now!” she interjected, not wanting to stop her list.

Suddenly Amir was running up to me on the other side of the court.

“What is going on? Why are you breathing so heavily?” I gave him a sideways glance before running forward to the net for a drop shot. His hands clutched his knees and his head hung low.

“It’s”—deep inhale—“her”—deep exhale.

“Her who?”