Chapter 72
Seventy-Two
Cassie’s heart was soaring. Delilah had found her fight, and a hell of an aim to boot. She needed time to enjoy that, feel it.
But Cassie’s elbow was throbbing now, dull and insistent.
Normally, she’d lean on a ball machine for this kind of repetition, but there was no ball machine here.
Just cracked courts, dodgy nets, and bitchy teenagers.
It was so weird to be back here. She thought she’d never see this place again.
It looked worse than she remembered. But it served a purpose, just as it had before.
A place no one cared enough to throw you out of, a place to simply play. To get good.
One of the teenagers had already buggered off, clearly bored now that the entertainment had turned on her. But the mouthiest one was still leaning on her racket, chewing gum like she owned the place. Cassie had caught glimpses of her earlier, half-watching while Delilah stretched. She wasn’t bad.
Cassie had an idea that could really backfire.
‘Oi,’ Cassie called, rubbing her elbow. ‘Fancy a hit?’
The girl blinked, then smirked. ‘What, against her?’ She nodded at Delilah. ‘I’ll flatten her in five minutes.’
‘You think?’
‘That hit just now was a fluke,’ she said, with a look to Delilah. Delilah was still grinning.
‘Name?’ Cassie asked.
‘Whitney,’ she kid spat.
‘Alright, Whitney. Flatten her.’
Delilah straightened, the grin falling off her face. ‘Hold it. You want her to play me?’
Cassie met her eyes. ‘You can handle her.’
Delilah opened her mouth, then closed it again, bristling. ‘Fine,’ she grumbled.
Whitney sauntered onto the court, shoulders loose, racket swinging at her side. She had that swagger kids have when they’ve got nothing to lose. It made Cassie deeply nostalgic.
‘Don’t worry,’ Whitney said to Delilah with a grin. ‘I’ll go easy on you.’
Delilah muttered something under her breath that Cassie didn’t catch. But she stepped into position, jaw tight, fire in her eyes.
Cassie dropped onto the bench by the fence, finally giving her arm a rest. She leaned back and watched.
The first rally was scrappy, full of nerves and half-swings.
But as the points stretched on, Delilah started to move sharper, react faster.
Whitney was better than Delilah, no question.
But she was cocky, lazy, letting shots sail long just to see if Delilah would chase them. And Delilah did. Every time.
This was exactly what Delilah needed. To play someone unfamiliar and infuriating.
Someone who couldn’t wait to see her lose.
Delilah had always played like she was playing against herself.
It was the only thing she really needed to figure out.
How to get the fuck out of your own way and focus on beating her opponent.
Cassie hadn’t known till this afternoon how to get her there, how to tap into Delilah’s competitive side.
But it was much like Cassie’s own way—anger.
It got a bad rap. It could be difficult to manage. But if you figured out how to use it, it was endless ammunition.
Point after point, game after game, the hours blurred together. The sun dipped low. Sweat darkened Delilah’s shirt, plastered her hair to her face, but she never quit. Whitney’s grin grew strained, her cocky little comments tapering off as Delilah’s stubbornness began to wear her down.
Cassie sat on the bench the whole time, arm resting, just watching. She didn’t need to bark corrections anymore. Delilah was learning on her feet, adjusting, growing sharper with every mistake.
By the time they finally stopped, both players bent double, panting hard, the court was littered with dead balls and long shadows.
Whitney dropped onto the ground, sprawled and knackered.
Delilah staggered to the fence, gripping it with both hands, sweat dripping off her nose.
Though Whitney had won, it wasn’t by much. Delilah had made a serious stand of it.
Cassie knew Delilah was ready. And from the looks of it, so did Delilah. She had a slightly delirious smile on her face. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t won. She’d played.
‘Hey, good game, Whitney,’ Delilah said.
‘I want to play you again,’ Whitney said, sitting up. ‘I took it too easy on you.’
‘You won,’ Delilah pointed out.
‘Yeah, but I should have won ages ago,’ Whitney said.
Delilah nodded. ‘I’ll be here from nine tomorrow, all day. Come and kick my arse.’
‘Fucking right, I will,’ Whitney told her.
‘Come on, tiger. You need to rest,’ Cassie told Delilah, dragging her off the court.
‘Let’s get a drink first,’ Delilah said, a certain look in her eye. Cassie didn’t hate to see it, but she was amazed. ‘You can’t have a drop of energy left in you.’
Delilah laughed as she trudged off the court with Cassie. ‘We’ll see.’