Chapter Text
The phone was warm against Alex's ear, her breath fogging faintly in the cool Miami night.
"She's here," she whispered, irritation tangled with dread. "What is she even doing here?"
Through the glass doors, the room pulsed with neon and chatter. Alex's gaze snagged on the familiar figure—crooked smile, casual lean against the bar, as if the place bent around her.
"Isn't that a Nike event?" her friend teased through the line. "She's practically their poster child. Try not to choke this time."
"Not helping," Alex muttered.
"You could start by admitting you were wrong."
Portland flashed in her mind—the slip, the careless remark, Clark's unreadable stare when Alex had blurted, she wasn't a basketball person but wanted a Sabrina shoe. In front of one of the sport's brightest stars.
"It was a set-up," Alex hissed. "They asked me about basketball shoes—like I'd know anything about that. I panicked, and Sabrina's name just slipped out because you wouldn't stop going on about her."
Her friend chuckled. "Reporters thrive on that kind of slip, and she was standing right there. You pretty much insulted her."
"I didn't even know she was there!" Alex snapped.
The door slid open, laughter spilling out. Alex stiffened.
"Alex?" The voice cut through the noise—Clark's.
Alex froze, breath catching. Caitlin Clark stood framed in neon, her crooked smile softened, curious.
"I didn't mean to interrupt," Caitlin said, stepping inside, eyes lingering.
Alex pressed the phone to her chest. "Yeah, I'm here," she whispered, gaze locked on Caitlin.
Her friend's voice spiked: "Tell me she didn't just walk in—"
Alex ended the call. Silence stretched.
Caitlin's smile curved, sly but not cruel. "Funny running into you here. Nike must've known we'd make things... interesting."
Alex crossed her arms, summoning composure. "Didn't expect to see you."
Caitlin's eyes sparkled. "Just my luck. Or maybe yours."
"Aren't you supposed to be in Puerto Rico?" Alex asked, tilting her head. She didn't add: You won MVP.
Caitlin's grin sharpened. "For someone who doesn't care about basketball, you sure keep track."
Alex braced for the jab, but Caitlin's tone softened. "Relax. I'm not here to fight."
Alex blinked, caught off guard.
Caitlin leaned against the railing, casual but intent. "I'm not a tennis person but you're hard to ignore. Heard about your last tournament. Deep run. You looked sharp."
"You watched?" The words slipped out before Alex could stop them.
Clark's smile deepened, unreadable. "Maybe I like surprises."
Alex's pulse quickened. She hadn't expected Caitlin Clark to watch, let alone comment. The words hung between them, heavier than the Miami humidity.
Caitlin shrugged, casual but deliberate. "I catch more games than people think. Yours had... bite." Her eyes flicked up, catching Alex's, then lingered. "You don't play like someone who doesn't care about basketball."
Alex's throat tightened. "I didn't say I don't care," she muttered, arms folding tighter. "I said I wasn't... a basketball person."
Caitlin tilted her head, amused. "That's a distinction without much difference."
The neon light painted Caitlin's hair in streaks of pink and blue. She leaned against the railing, posture loose, but her gaze sharp. "You know, people panic all the time. Portland wasn't the end of the world."
Alex bristled. "Easy for you to say. You're used to microphones shoved in your face. I'm not."
Caitlin's smile softened again, almost conspiratorial. "True. But you handled it better than you think. You gave them something real. That's rare."
Alex blinked, thrown off balance. "Real? I sounded like an idiot."
"Idiots don't make deep runs in tournaments," Caitlin said simply. "Idiots don't get noticed by Nike."
The words landed like a challenge and a compliment rolled into one. Alex shifted, suddenly aware of the weight of Caitlin's attention. The noise from inside—the laughter, the clinking glasses—faded into a dull hum.
"You're not here just for Nike, are you?" Alex asked, voice low.
Caitlin's grin widened, sly but not unkind. "Maybe I wanted to see if you'd choke again."
Alex's eyes narrowed. "That's cruel."
"Or maybe," Caitlin added, leaning closer, "I wanted to see if you'd surprise me."
The air between them tightened, charged. Alex's composure cracked for a heartbeat, her lips parting as if to speak, but no words came. Caitlin's gaze held hers, steady, unflinching.
Finally, Alex exhaled, breaking the silence. "You're impossible."
Caitlin chuckled, straightening. "And you're more interesting than you let on."
The glass door slid open again, a burst of music spilling out. Someone called Caitlin's name from inside. She glanced back, then returned her focus to Alex. "Guess I should go play poster child."
Alex's chest tightened, though she forced a cool nod. "Go on. Don't let me stop you."
Caitlin lingered a moment longer, eyes searching Alex's face. "See you around, Alex."
And then she was gone, swallowed by the neon and noise. Alex stood frozen, the night air pressing against her skin, her phone still warm in her hand. She wasn't sure if she felt relief—or the sharp ache of wanting more.