He’s good and more than makes up for my poor decisions. No matter what they hit at him, he seems to get it back. Not as smoothly as Calder, but it’s effective. We win 11-6, and when Megan and Jerome approach the net, Sam and I follow. They hold out their paddles, tapping the edges against each other, and we join in.
Adorable.
Megan brushes a stray lock of hair from her face. “Okay, let’s see who else is finished and we’ll switch it up.”
I wince. “But Jerome?—”
“You don’t get to keep him, Alecia,” Sam says, and Jerome gives an “Awe shucks” wave of his hand.
Megan rounds the net. “You two did great for just starting. Have you played another racquet sport before?”
Sam shakes her head, but I nod. “Tennis.”
Megan picks up her water bottle from the floor beneath her bag. “No wonder. Some of those shots you hit were tough.”
The compliment feels like a warm hug, and I feel the teensiest bit less self conscious around her. When she leans over to replace her bottle on the ground showing perfect cleavage, my progress evaporates.
“I’m going to go fill up,” I say, leaving the court and grabbing my mostly full water bottle from the backpack I used for my trip to Europe two years ago. It doesn’t have a hook to hang on the fence.
I hurry to the water fountain between the restrooms, and stutter step to a stop when Calder turns, his water bottle in one hand, the lid in the other. “Oh. Hey.”
I glance to both sides, searching for an escape route, but the women’s bathroom would still require me to move closer to him. My only option would be to turn around and bolt. I’m halfconsidering it when he says, “So.” He doesn't move, still blocking me from accessing the water fountain.
I wet my lips. "So. You’re friends with Garrett Davis."
"I am."
"How long have you known each other?” I ask, then think better of it. “You know what? Never mind. You're not going to answer me anyway."
He screws on the lid to his bottle and finally steps to the side. “This isn't a lesson.”
I scoff, stepping up and putting my water bottle under the filler. "Seriously?"
"I like to keep things professional."
"Okay. Because having friendly conversation isn't professional.”
He blows a breath through his nose as my water bottle fills. "I've known Garrett since last summer. We partnered together in a tournament."
I take a swig of water, then top off the bottle and screw on the lid. "Well, if you wouldn't have been soprofessionalin our lesson the other day, we could have avoided all this awkwardness."
"What awkwardness?"
I give him a look. "You're going to pretend you don't remember what I said?"
"Oh, I remember."
The way he says that makes my stomach flip. I clear my throat. "Yeah. Then you understand why this is the seventh level of hell for me." I walk past him.
“A little dramatic.”
I whirl. “What?”
“Seventh level of hell?” Calder scrubs a hand over his jaw. “Seems like a bit of an exaggeration.”
I step closer and lower my voice. “Just forget everything I told you, okay? Play the strong and silent type. You’re good at it.”
“You think I’m strong?” He gives a half smirk.
