Page 40 of Courting Trouble
Delilah laughed at herself and crossed the threshold, shutting the door behind her. ‘Well, this is…’
Cassie gave a short nod, glancing up. ‘I know. I think it’s meant to discourage lingering.’
Delilah searched for a compliment. It was a struggle. ‘It looksveryclean,’ she eventually said.
‘Can I take the top bunk?’ Cassie asked.
‘You want the top bunk?’ Delilah asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Nobody wants the top bunk.’
‘I do.’
Delilah narrowed her eyes. ‘What’s next, you’ll fight me for the smaller pillow?’
Cassie gave her a half-smile, dumping her bag on the top bed and beginning to unpack.
Delilah watched her for a moment. She realised there was something else she needed to say. ‘Thanks. For doing all this. For the camp, for… everything. I know it can’t be easy.’
Cassie stopped unpacking and turned, meeting her eyes with a flicker of something softer. ‘You’ve already thanked me.’
‘I know, but…’
‘You’re working hard. That’s the way to thank me,’ Cassie told her.
‘I guess I just feel like I’ve asked a lot of you since we started. Too much,’ Delilah admitted.
‘You deserve to get to the point you want to be at. And I think you can do it,’ Cassie said.
Delilah’s gaze dropped to her hands, fiddling with the hem of her T-shirt. ‘Well, I guess it’s bedtime,’ she murmured.
Cassie nodded. ‘It would have to be, wouldn’t it? The place only has beds.’
‘Do you mind if I take the bathroom, get a shower? My clothes are ready to walk off by themselves.’
Cassie nodded. ‘Be my guest.’
Delilah headed for the bathroom, trying to set aside her nerves. It all depended on these two weeks. She couldn’t afford to let anything else matter.
Forty-Two
The bunk creaked when Cassie rolled over, the thin mattress shifting beneath her. She lay still, staring at the grain of the wooden wall a few inches from her face. She imagined a face in it. It was mean and sneering.
She shifted onto her back, folded her hands over her stomach. The air smelled of wet wood, mostly. At the edge of it was something else, probably drifting up from Delilah. Fruity and sweet.
When she’d invited Delilah to come to this camp, it had felt like the right decision. A turning point. A chance for Delilah to get out of her head and into her body. Build muscle memory that couldn’t be denied.
But here, now, she wasn’t so sure about that call.
She rubbed the heel of her hand against her forehead. It wasn’t just the Petra thing. It was all of it. The way Delilah looked at her sometimes, like she was trying to read her like a book. Cassie hated how aware she was of that.
It had been years since anyone had looked at her like that. Like there might be something worth seeing beneath the brim of her cap.
She told herself she was imagining it. That Delilah couldn’t see the whole picture, and she shouldn’t be allowed to. That she needed to keep the lines clear. Trainer and trainee. Professional. Impersonal. And above all, controlled.
But another part of her—a smaller, more traitorous part—wondered if Delilah had already seen through the performance.
