Booked & Busy ? Devin Booker

The Olympic Village was a whirlwind of energy, with the best athletes from all over the world gathered all in one place. As Whitney navigated the busy sidewalks, she couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration. The Village lived up to its name and felt like a small city completely separate from the normal hustle and bustle of Paris with each dormitory she passed sporting dozens of their country's flags.

With the size of the Village, it was easy to get lost, especially as Whitney moved further away from Team USA's quarters. Luckily, she had the sense to leave an Airtag in the room she shared with CoCo Gauff. She'd been walking for well over 30 minutes, and with her encounter with Devin earlier that day clouding her mind, she couldn't retrace her steps even if she wanted to.

In the nine years since they both left the University of Kentucky, Whitney had numerous encounters with Devin, each one more awkward than the one before. The tension between them had been brewing for close to a decade and running into him so soon was throwing her off balance in a way she hadn't anticipated. With her first match scheduled for tomorrow morning, the last thing she needed was to be distracted by unresolved feelings. But no matter how hard she tried, Devin's face kept flashing in her mind, a constant reminder of their past. She had hoped by now she'd be better at compartmentalizing her emotions, but seeing her old college rival had brought memories from the University of Kentucky rushing back.

As Whitney continued through the crowded village, passing groups of athletes sporting their country's colors and speaking languages she didn't understand, she tried to clear her mind. An unease had settled in her chest since this morning and she couldn't figure out why Devin's presence was affecting her so much. It wasn't like they hadn't had chances to talk, they had many chances to clear the air since college but something always held them back. It was as if they had gotten so comfortable with the tension that they never even tried to confront their past.

After wandering around the Olympic Village for another 20 minutes, Whitney finally found some peace of mind visualizing herself winning tomorrow's match. Eventually, she decided to follow the Airtag directions back to her room. Though it was barely 7:00 p.m., she wanted to get settled into bed early, the weight of tomorrow on her shoulders.

Whitney's feet carried her toward Team USA's temporary living quarters, her imagination running wild with visions of winning a gold medal. As she maneuvered through the paths that led to various other dormitories, dining halls, and training facilities, she surprisingly had no trouble finding her way back and even turned off the directions halfway through. With each step, her anticipation for tomorrow grew. Her contract with Nike was set to expire right before the U.S. Open at the end of August, and with another Olympic medal added to her list of accomplishments, she could push negotiations between them and Adidas to the max.

With a smile on her lips, she rounded a corner and nearly collided with a tall figure coming from the opposite direction. She stopped, her eyes landing on the white pair of shoes standing before her—the same ones Devin had been wearing this morning, but without the red Gatorade stain.

She sighed loudly and looked up to see who it was. To her pleasant surprise, it wasn't Devin but another member of Team USA's basketball team, Tyrese Haliburton.

"Sorry!" he apologized immediately. "Are you okay? Did I break your leg? Did I give you a heart attack? I shouldn't have been walking so—"

"No worries! I'm okay," Whitney cut him off with a laugh. She couldn't help but feel a sense of adoration for the handsome stranger who stood over her. Being 5'10, she was considered tall herself, and she guessed he was about an inch shorter than Devin—so probably somewhere in the 6'5 range.

Tyrese let out a relieved breath and smiled, his expression warm and comforting. He stared at Whitney for a beat too long, his eyes lingering on every part of her face as if he were reading her like a book. He opened his mouth to speak but before he could get a word out, a familiar voice called his.