Page 39 of Courting Trouble
Delilah swallowed, nodding again. ‘Thank you, Cassie. For… everything.’
Cassie smiled briefly. ‘Don’t get mushy on me now.’
Delilah laughed, light but genuine. For the first time since the dream incident, she felt a break in the clouds between her and Cassie. They were going to get past the weirdness. It would be OK.
The sun dipped below the horizon as they moved into another set of drills. For now, all that mattered was the ball, the racket, and her determination not to suck.
Forty
The camp’s dining hall was modest. Rough-hewn beams, simple tables, and a low ceiling. It was designed to be Spartan, lest you forget… This ain’t no holiday camp.
Cassie watched Delilah slowly picking at her food, the fork trembling slightly as she prodded at a piece of some type of vegetable. Her skin was flushed, beads of sweat still drying along her hairline, and the exhaustion was written clearly in the slump of her shoulders. This kind of physical training was a shock for someone unused to the rigours of sport.
But she hadn’t complained about how hard Cassie worked her. Not once. That surprised Cassie. Delilah wasn’t averse to the odd moan. Cassie could only assume the stoicism was her way of expressing gratitude for what Cassie was doing for her. Which, in and of itself, Cassie was happy to do. If it hadn’t been for the Petra element, she’d have been having something close to a good time today.
But knowing Petra lurked nearby was salt in a paper cut.
Delilah, apparently a mind reader, broke the quiet. ‘So,’ she began, casually, ‘what’s the deal with Petra? She was your trainer, right?’
Cassie’s fork paused mid-air. She wasn’t ready to spill any type of tea and certainly not within possible earshot of Petra herself. She forced herself to keep her tone even, neutral.
‘Yep,’ Cassie said and put the food in her mouth.
Delilah didn’t look satisfied. ‘I read a bit online,’ she said quietly, lowering her voice like she was confessing a secret, ‘about how she coached some of the top players. People say she’s one of the best.’
‘Look, Delilah,’ Cassie said, voice firmer now, ‘I’m here to help you with your tennis, not to dish with you about Petra.’
Delilah was chastisement itself. ‘Oh god. Sorry. You’re right. None of my beeswax.’
Cassie felt angry with herself. That had been a bit too hostile. She tried to soften her tone. ‘How’s the food?’
Delilah managed a small smile as she pushed her plate away. ‘You weren’t kidding about the food. Do they really have to boileverything?’
Cassie chuckled, wondering if she should apologise for her little outburst. Delilah had only tried to make conversation, and who could blame her for the topic choice? You’d have to be totally self-involved to miss the poisonous atmosphere between her and Petra. And Delilah wasn’t that.
Cassie wanted to be honest, but the truth was embarrassing. She didn’t want Delilah to see into her in that way. Delilah respected her as a coach. All that messy stuff would muddy those waters.
Pushing her plate aside, Cassie stood and stretched. ‘We should turn in. You need the rest.’
Delilah nodded and stood, and they left the dining hall together. And Cassie realised what came next. Shared quarters.
Forty-One
Delilah followed Cassie up the narrow path.
The sky was a gorgeous deep indigo, not a cloud to be seen, but all Delilah could focus on was the small cabin ahead of them.
Weathered timber, a sloping roof, a single lantern casting a soft glow by the door. Almost self-consciously simple, it felt pointed. As if it were whispering:Welcome to Camp Tennis Cult, surrender your personality at the door. There is only tennis. Youaretennis.
But that wasn’t what was bothering her.
Her fingers clenched and unclenched at her sides as she stepped onto the porch. Cohabitation with Cassie was more than she’d bargained for. They weren’t friends exactly, though clearly much more than acquaintances, and not totally like colleagues. Delilah didn’t quite have the word for what they were. But this? Sharing living space? It was a jump of at least five levels above their current status, such as it was.
Cassie pushed the door open, stepping inside first. Delilah paused at the door to look. There were bunk beds pushed into the corner, a small dresser, and a window looking out onto the dark trees beyond. A door at the other end implied a bathroom. And that was that.
Delilah glanced toward Cassie, who was already dropping her bag by her bed and loosening the laces on her trainers.
She looked up. ‘You coming in?’
