Chapter 31
Thirty-One
Delilah adjusted the grip on her racket, glad to have it back in her hand. She served. Not terribly. Not well either. The ball hit the edge of the net and bounced back towards her.
‘Again,’ Cassie called.
She retrieved the ball and did it again. This time, it cleared. Just.
They fell into a rhythm. Forehands. Backhands. Corrections murmured between shots.
Then, Delilah lunged for a cross-court backhand and made it. It was wild, messy, barely in. But in.
Cassie just raised an eyebrow. ‘Well. That almost looked like tennis.’
Delilah laughed, breathless. Then she stopped laughing. ‘Hey, Cassie?’
Cassie raised an eyebrow. ‘Mm?’
She hesitated. ‘I said a lot, didn’t I? Yesterday.’
Cassie shrugged. ‘You said what needed saying.’
Delilah wasn’t sure Cassie was getting it. She tried again. ‘It was probably a bit much for you to have to listen to.’
‘Are you feeling like I read your diary?’ Cassie asked dryly.
Delilah flushed.
‘Look, it’s not my business. I just teach you tennis.’
That embarrassed Delilah even more. She supposed she’d thought that Cassie’s intervention meant something, that maybe they were more than just teacher and student.
Maybe even friends. At least friendly. Because Cassie had said Delilah was her friend to Rena Rowe, hadn’t she? Had Delilah misheard her?
‘I wasn’t—’ she began. ‘I didn’t mean it to sound like—’
‘I didn’t know the movie was about her sexuality,’ Cassie said suddenly.
‘Amongst other things,’ Delilah said evenly.
Cassie bounced a ball twice. ‘Tennis has always been weird about queer players. Which is weird, seeing as there are so many of us.’
Cassie hit the next shot hard, ending the conversation with a thwack.
Delilah didn’t chase it. She just stood there, heart doing something weird in her chest.
Us. Cassie was queer.
‘The hell was that? You didn’t even bother going after it!’ Cassie admonished.
Delilah shook herself. ‘Oh, no, I… Yeah, sorry. Sorry,’
They practised for another half-hour. Delilah pushed herself harder than usual, maybe to drown out the confusion in her head. By the end, she was a sweaty, tired mess.
‘That’s time,’ Cassie said.
They were walking back to the bench when Delilah’s phone rang in her bag, an unknown number. She hesitated, then picked up. ‘Hello?’
‘Delilah. Hi. It’s James Rourke.’
Oh Christ, the director.
‘I just got off the phone with Rena Rowe,’ he said. ‘She’s agreed to reinstate the rights. I don’t know what you said to her, but… you saved the movie.’
Delilah blinked. ‘Seriously?’
‘Seriously. She wants a few script adjustments, but she’s on board. The studio’s ecstatic. And so am I. Thank you.’
‘No, thank you for the part.’
‘Can’t say you haven’t earned it!’ he said with a laugh. ‘Well, see you on set!’
They hung up. Delilah stared at the screen. Then at Cassie watching with absolutely no chill.
‘Well?!’ Cassie demanded.
Delilah could see that she cared. She’d done this because she cared.
Delilah launched forward, throwing her arms around Cassie before her brain could stop her. ‘You saved the movie!’
Cassie was caught completely off guard, but her arms came around Delilah after a beat. The hug was meant to be quick, celebratory, but something in it lingered. Cassie was so warm and solid…
Then they pulled apart. Too fast.
‘Right,’ Cassie said, rubbing the back of her neck. ‘Well. That’s… good.’
‘Yeah,’ Delilah said, not looking at her. ‘It’s great.’
The silence stretched, a little awkward now.
Delilah cleared her throat and reached for her water bottle. Cassie looked out over the court, squinting at the sun. Neither of them said anything else.