Chapter 35
Thirty-Five
Why was Cassie behaving like this? Did she know? She couldn’t. Could she?
Delilah shoved herself through another set of side-shuffles, feet burning, dignity in tatters.
However you sliced it, Cassie seemed to be mad at her. Was it because Cassie had sensed the crush forming, had seen a look in Delilah’s eye that gave the game away? Were her eyeballs betraying her? No wonder Cassie was trying to back away. She was uncomfortable.
‘Jesus Christ,’ she muttered, angry at herself.
‘What?’ Cassie asked from across the court.
Delilah had thought her self-admonishment had been beyond the range of Cassie’s ears, but apparently, her ears were as strong as those arms.
‘I need a break,’ Delilah said quickly, which was true. She couldn’t count the ways in which she meant that. ‘I’m knackered.’
‘You just started.’
Delilah shrugged.
‘Fine. Eat a banana.’
‘I don’t like bananas,’ Delilah said. ‘I prefer Jelly Babies.’ She went into her bag on the bench and pulled out a packet of the sweets.
Cassie rolled her eyes as Delilah went to yank the bag open. Delilah paused, stopped dead by Cassie’s expression. ‘What? I read they’re good for a little boost.’
‘That’s more of a runner thing and also stupid. Short release, not filling. Bananas are better. It’s a go-to tennis player snack.’
‘OK. But I don’t have a banana,’ Delilah pointed out.
Cassie pulled a banana out of her bag and tossed it to Delilah. ‘There.’
Delilah caught it awkwardly, dropping her sweet bag in the process, losing a few neon edible children. ‘I still don’t like them. Hate them, actually.’
Cassie raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m giving you a pro tip. Take it or don’t.’
Delilah raised both eyebrows. ‘You think I haven’t heard of bananas before?’
Cassie’s brow deepened more than Delilah had ever seen before. ‘Give it back, then.’
Delilah happily tossed it to her, thinking she’d either put it away or eat it in a normal fashion. She didn’t do that.
Cassie looked at the banana like it had personally wronged her, then peeled it in one savage yank, and crammed the whole thing into her mouth.
Her jaw worked at lightning speed, cheeks bulging, eyes narrowed in deadly focus.
Delilah just stood there, paralysed. She wasn’t sure if she’d just witnessed a snack or a mental break.
‘That was fucking insane,’ Delilah told her, agape.
‘It was professional banana eating,’ Cassie said, swallowing, panting. She promptly hiccupped.
Delilah didn’t have a response to that. So she picked her Jelly Babies back up and sat heavily on the bench, facing the court. She could feel Cassie sit down next to her, but didn’t look at her. Delilah wanted to say something. Anything.
They were both being weird. But it wasn’t just weird. It was loaded. They should talk. Get it out there. Deal with this… thing.
But if Delilah opened her mouth, she didn’t know what might come out: It might be, ‘Hey, I’m crushing on you, so what?’ but equally, it could be, ‘I made myself come thinking about you.’ Or: ‘Would have any interest whatsoever in hate-fucking me?’
So she just ate some Jelly Babies. A full mouth couldn’t say anything stupid.
She could still hear the thwack of last week’s miracle shot in her head. The way Cassie had smiled, just a fraction. The way she’d said, That’s how it starts.
It had started all right. And now Delilah didn’t know how to stop it.
Delilah forced herself to focus on the court lines, the faded white paint, the sweat sliding down her back. Her mouth still wanted to say stupid words, but she kept pushing sweets in to block them.
Eventually, she’d finished eating, and her mouth felt a lot less drunk. It was ready to be normal again. ‘Back to work,’ she said.
Cassie nodded once, as if nothing had happened. Which it hadn’t, if you weren’t a banana
Cassie stood, her muscles flexing as she moved to the baseline. Delilah’s stomach developed a small knot, not with longing but with the sharp, annoying awareness that she wasn’t going to stop noticing Cassie anytime soon.
But she had to. She absolutely had to. She was going to be Tamsin Rowe. That was the only thing she could think about. If she let herself get distracted, she’d blow her shot. And there wouldn’t be another one.