This is my first try at writing an Emison fic, so go easy on me, haha. But if you stick around, I promise there will be plenty of twists, drama, romance, and even jealousy. Enjoy the ride!
Emily woke up with a start that morning. She glanced at her phone and let out a string of curses, slapping her forehead. She leapt out of her king-size bed and grabbed the first pair of pants she could find from the pile of clothes on the floor. The morning sun revealed the chaos around her: stacks of papers, clothes, and a half-empty teacup on her nightstand. She rushed to her closet and frantically searched for at least one clean shirt, but the empty hangers staring back at her served as a stark reminder that she hadn't done laundry in a while. She took a deep breath, turned back to the clothes on the floor, and spotted a white t-shirt that would have to do. As she closed her apartment door, she made a mental note to try and clean up when she got home that evening, but she knew it would be a tough promise to keep given her busy schedule.
Indeed, all eyes were on her today. The most respected coach in college swimming was about to unveil the names of the new recruits for her team at Stanford. Media, recruiters, and young swimmers from all over the world were glued to her. She was about to reveal the names of the lucky girls who would be joining her team at the most prestigious university for women's swimming. The stakes were high. Emily was known for her keen eye. She didn't just pick the best swimmers of the moment; she spotted those who had the potential to become champions. Her announcement was a promise of a bright future for these young swimmers, who were now following in the footsteps of numerous champions, including Olympic gold medalists, from the past five years.
Her demanding approach and reputation as a 'champion sculptor' made her a highly sought-after coach, and though she would never admit it in public, she loved the media-given nickname. Every year, thousands of applications poured in, but only a few were selected. Emily was very selective, and the choice was always difficult. She was looking for talented swimmers, of course, but also ambitious young women capable of overcoming obstacles and working as a team.
She arrived at the press conference parking lot in a rush. She slammed the car door, hastily applying makeup in the rearview mirror, and was greeted by Lucy, her assistant, who looked visibly annoyed.
"Where have you been?" Lucy demanded, one hand on her hip. "I've been trying to reach you for an hour!"
"I was... uh... doing laundry." Emily was surprised by her own answer. She grabbed her bag, checked that all her papers were in it, and faced the young woman.
Lucy took a moment to observe Emily's outfit, lingering on the white stain on her knee and the small hole in her t-shirt before replying sarcastically. "You know, there are time management courses offered here. I could recommend one for you."
Emily took the comment in stride and followed her into the building. Lucy was impeccably dressed, her medium-length hair held in an elegant style. She stood as straight as an arrow in her heels, her footsteps echoing loudly in the hallway.
"They could hire you for the marching band, you'd be a hit, that's for sure," Emily joked, trying to lighten the mood.
Lucy replied without looking at her, continuing to walk. "Ah, music, it's an art. But I prefer things that are more... structured. Like a schedule, for example." She emphasized the last word and glared at Emily, who suppressed a smile to avoid further angering her."
As they reached the conference room, Emily felt her heart race. The impeccably made-up hostess checked their badges with a distracted air. The inside of the room was a furnace, the buzz of conversations and the heat of the spotlights creating a frenetic atmosphere. Emily felt eyes on her as she crossed the room, the flashes of cameras popping. She scanned the room, looking for a familiar face, but found only strangers with curious glances. She ran her hand through her hair to style it. When she felt the huge knot under her fingers, she grimaced and told herself she really should have gotten up earlier. Lucy gently pushed her towards the steps and Emily climbed them to sit in the only vacant chair, the one in the center, with her name on the gold plate on the table.
"We were starting to worry about you," the man sitting to her right said with a wide smile as she took out her documents. Emily tried to return his smile but she was anxious and the result was more of a grimace, as if she had bitten into a particularly sour lemon.
The university president suddenly appeared with a microphone, and Emily couldn't help but think that J.K. Rowling must have been inspired by him to create the character of Lucius Malfoy. He was clearly delighted with his role as presenter.
"Good morning, everyone. Now that our dear coach has arrived, we can begin." The fake Lucius began by presenting the university and then the program, but honestly, Emily only listened to the beginning and waited for her turn to speak.
"I will now give the floor to our coach, who, I remind you, is an Olympic champion and has been coaching the best women's university team in the country for 5 years. She has helped many swimmers join the national swimming team and that is why she deserves a round of applause."
Once she had finished speaking and announced the 35 names of the girls she had selected, there was a buzz of excitement and the journalists started asking their questions. It never ended.
A somewhat seasoned journalist stood up and spoke.
"You are nicknamed 'the champion sculptor', but behind this image of a demanding coach, there is a woman. Some say that a fulfilling love life can positively influence athletic performance. What do you think? Is your love life an engine or rather a brake in your career?"
Emily was stunned for a moment. Unpleasant thoughts flooded her mind. For her, her catastrophic love life had been a driving force. A dark engine, fueled by a pain she preferred to bury deep inside herself. She had left everything seven years ago, leaving behind a life she no longer wanted to live. And today, when she had reached the pinnacle of her career, she sometimes felt like a stranger in her own world. The fear of being hurt again had pushed her to build walls around her heart. She had had a few brief relationships since, but never anything serious. She had banished attachment from her life.
Emily crossed paths with Lucy's gaze, who silently begged her to respond politely. So she made firm eye contact with the journalist who was holding out his microphone with an impatient look on his face. "I think we're here today to talk about swimming, the team, and our goals for the upcoming season. My personal life has no place in this context. I prefer to focus my energy on my athletes and the athletic challenges ahead." She gave a slight smile to soften her words and not be perceived as too aggressive.
"You're right, we're here to talk about swimming. As a reminder for those listening, you yourself experienced the life of a high-level swimmer and, following a serious shoulder injury, you were forced to give up. An injury that may have weakened your self-confidence and your trust in others. Don't you think that this injury has had an impact on your way of seeing relationships, on your ability to fully commit?" asked the journalist, raising an eyebrow, looking like he knew everything.
This question hit a sore spot for Emily, who felt a pang in her heart. She felt anger rising against this insistent journalist. This injury had not only ended her athletic career, it had shaken her to her core. It had taken her a long time to recover from this fall, to rebuild her identity outside of the pools. The feeling of incompleteness, the bitterness of seeing her dreams go up in smoke, had left indelible marks. All her hopes had crumbled just when she had won her third Olympic medal. She was the rising star of swimming with a thirst for victory that surpassed that of her competitors, but life had dealt her a serious blow. It was 8 years ago and today she could finally say that she had succeeded again, but the scars were there, invisible but very real.
Piqued, Emily straightened up in her chair and looked at the crowd in front of her. They were all waiting for an answer from her. "It's fascinating how people love to dig into other people's past. But maybe you should focus on the present, and on the successes of my athletes?" The journalist opened his mouth to reply but was speechless, surprised by her direct answer. He sat back down, mumbling a response that no one heard.
Emily was satisfied with her answer and it had at least had the effect of stopping the noise that made this conference hard to bear. She scanned the room and her eyes stopped on a blonde head of hair she knew all too well. Her heart skipped a beat, then stopped. She hoped she was mistaken, but her eyes found those cold blue eyes of Alison, the same eyes that had once looked at her with so much tenderness. Then, a painful memory overwhelmed her, causing her to break eye contact. She abruptly announced the end of the conference, then stood up and left the room to the astonished gaze of the crowd and her team.
Once in the hallway, Emily ran and took refuge in the farthest bathroom she could find. She locked herself in a stall and leaned against the door. Her breath was short, ragged. It wasn't her running that was preventing her from breathing, it was Alison. Why was she here?
Hello everyone! I hope you're all doing well as the new school year approaches. Here's a little prologue to set the scene for my story. I hope you enjoy it :)