“Hey.” He straightens, and the look on his face is pure innocence. The scowl I’m so used to seeing there is softened, his lips slightly parted, his long lashes shadowing his cheeks. It’s disarming as hell.
“Hey.” I lift a hand. I swapped the Barolo dress for leggings and an oversized crewneck over a tank top. We both know why I’m here. At least, I think we do? Calder has to know how flirty he was being. But as he picks up his paddle and walks toward the net, my confidence wanes. Was he just being nice?
He pulls a ball from his pocket. “How’d the rest of dinner go?”
“I was the picture of professionalism.”
He huffs a breath. “Garrett was happy?”
“More than happy.” I get in position opposite him.
Calder pauses, about to hit the ball. “What does that mean?”
“I think he hoped our night would’ve been extended.” Garrett drove me home and turned off the car before I told him I had plans to do a workout. I’d thought about saying I was exhausted and needed to head to bed, but Calder’s stance on white lies got to me. Why was I trying to make the truth easier to hear? Garrett wasn’t going to like that I was turning him down either way, so I may as well be honest.
“Huh.” Calder sends the ball over the net.
“I just—” I hit it back. “I don’t get why dating has to be so hard. Why do we have to play this game with each other? Or maybe it’s just with myself.”
We dink back and forth, and my legs start to warm up. “Thank you, by the way.”
“For what?”
My hands start to tingle. “For your text messages.” Calder nods once, but when he doesn’t comment, I can’t leave it alone. “I don’t know how I feel about everything, though. Like, I’m not supposed to want or need to be with someone. I’m supposed to be happy on my own, and I am, but not really, you know? Life is more fun when you do it with other people. I have friends, and don’t get me wrong, they’re amazing, but I want romantic love. Is that lame to admit?”
Calder’s brows are pinched again. “No. Not lame.” He moves back from the kitchen line, and I follow his lead, hitting deeper balls.
“But then it feels like I have to try because it’s not just happening.”
Calder hits a diabolical angle, and I barely get it back. “Nice,” he says, and warmth blooms in my chest.
“You’re right, though,” I continue. “I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t like who I am. Or, I guess, only likes part of who I am. But is it possible for someone to love everything?”
“Hey! Do you two want to play a game?” the woman on the court next to us calls over. She’s probably in her mid-fifties, wearing a neon visor and bright pink shoes. I already love her.
Calder glances at me questioningly, and I nod.
We hop onto their court, and I’m instantly nervous. Especially knowing that Calder used to be on the pro circuit. I want to ask him about that. I want to know how he got so good—he must’ve played racquet sports growing up—and what it was like traveling around to tournaments. I want to know every girl he ever dated, where he went to school, and what his family is like. I want to know everything about him.
“Nice glasses.” The woman’s husband steps up to the net. “I’m Pete.”
“Thanks.” I give Calder a sidelong glance. “I’m Alecia.”
“Julie.” The woman puts out her hand and I shake it. They both already know Calder. Everyone here knows Calder.
“You want to serve first?” Pete asks, nodding at the ball in Calder’s hand. “Oh wait, what ball are you using?”
I watch Calder’s face with a grin. He draws a very intentional breath. “Uh, not sure.” He flips the ball over. “Looks like Selkirk.”
“Mind if we use this? Just love our Vulcans.”
“Sure.” Calder tosses the ball back onto our court.
I take the ball from Pete and turn to the baseline. “That was very big of you.”
“Don’t.”
“I’m just saying, if I didn’t know you, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you wanted to punch him in the face.”
