Worth The Wait

23|𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓

𝐋𝐔𝐂IE 𝐁𝐀𝐒I𝐋𝐋E

I had never been to a place like Le Solstice. I'd been to plenty of  fancy restaurants before—places where the air itself felt like it had been ironed into perfection. But this? This was something else entirely. It was opulence on another level, the kind of place where the smallest misstep might cost you your dignity.

The host led us to a table near the panoramic windows, and as I looked out at the glittering lights of LA stretching endlessly beneath us, I could feel my anxiety rise. I had spent more time in gymnasiums and training halls than in places like this. The menu in front of me had more words I couldn't pronounce than I was comfortable with, and I immediately regretted not Googling the place more thoroughly.

River, however, seemed perfectly at ease. He slid into the seat across from me with a smirk on his face, his tailored black suit looking like it was made for him. I felt like a mismatched piece of fabric next to him in my red dress—nice, but nothing compared to the sophistication surrounding us.

"I know, I know," he said, sensing my discomfort. "It's a bit much, isn't it?"

I shot him a dry look. "You think?"

He leaned back in his chair, studying me, that trademark twinkle in his eye never fading. "I'm just enjoying watching you squirm."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the small smile that curled my lips. "Not the best way to spend your time, but I guess I have no choice."

"Come on, Lucie," he teased, "you agreed to this. You owe me dinner at the nicest place in LA. How could I pass up a deal like that?"

"Right," I said, narrowing my eyes, "lucky for you I didn't bet you something worse."

"You would've. We both know it."

I lifted my glass of sparkling water to my lips, considering his words. "Yeah, well. Next time, I'll be the one making the rules."

River chuckled, but the sound was lighter, less mocking than usual. The tone was different, warmer in a way I hadn't expected. The usual tension we shared over our rivalry wasn't as present tonight. In fact, there was something about this—this dinner, this strange atmosphere—that felt... easier.

"You really want to do this again?" I asked, unable to mask the teasing in my voice. "Because I'm already regretting the deal."

"Noted," he grinned. "But let's be real. You wouldn't have agreed if you didn't want to one-up me."

I smirked. "Oh, I still want to. But maybe not tonight."

River leaned forward, his gaze holding mine for a fraction of a second too long. "It's funny," he said, his voice softer now, "I didn't think this would be... easy. Dinner, I mean. But here we are."

I blinked, the unexpected sincerity catching me off guard. "Same here," I admitted. "I figured you'd be the worst dinner partner, but you're not as unbearable as I thought you'd be."

River raised his glass in a mock toast. "I'll take that as the highest compliment."

I rolled my eyes, but a laugh bubbled up, unbidden and genuine. For a moment, it felt like we weren't two fierce competitors bound by rivalry and Olympic pressure, but just two people sharing a laugh. I couldn't remember the last time that had happened between us—hell, I couldn't remember the last time I'd let myself relax enough to enjoy something this... normal.

Our orders arrived, each dish with a name I couldn't pronounce without tripping over myself. We stumbled through the foreign terms together, each course more extravagant than the last. But with every bite and every word exchanged, the distance between us seemed to lessen. The playful banter felt lighter, and the weight of everything we were both carrying—training, expectations, competition—seemed to lift.