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“No, I’m not.” I waited nervously to see if he was going to remember who I really was, but he just looked at me, waiting, until I gave in and admitted it. “Okay, yes, I’ve played before. But you can’t tell anyone.”
“Why?” He tilted his head with curiosity. I searched his eyes for some kind of judgment, but found none.
So, I told him the truth. “Because I don’t want to play again, but I need to ‘show improvement’ in something to pass this class. So, I figured it would be okay to fake getting better and then I'd pass and that would be the end of it.”
“Why don’t you want to play tennis again?” His voice was gentle, coaxing. He was going total Doctor Luke on me and the last thing I wanted was him playing psychiatrist to my personal issues.
“None of your business.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yes, okay. You’re right, it isn’t any of my business. But it’s just us here, and no one is watching, so would you consider showing me what level you’re really at? It would really help me out too if I had someone to play against instead of us pretending you’re a total beginner.”
I looked at him suspiciously. Was he really going to just let it go? He’d just got me to completely drop my guard and forget I'd sworn never to hit a ball like that again, and now he was giving me a safe space to explore how I felt about it? Wow, he was good, too good to be genuine, surely? No teenage boy was that perceptive, were they?
I hesitated with indecision and then the answer came to me. This wasn’t about me. Luke was just being smart about getting what he wanted. He needed someone to play tennis with and he’d seen I could actually play, and he was just working that.
I nodded. “So, you’ll go along with the lie if I give you a good game?”
“Of course, I will, and you don’t need to give me a good game. Any game will do.”
A slow smile spread across my face. I'd been right. He wasn’t being perceptive about me, just looking out for his own needs, and I was fine with that.
“You’re on, but on one condition. You can’t tell anyone, not even your friends. Things have a habit of getting around, it could get back to .... someone.”
“Coach Morehouse? She’ll never know.”
“Promise not to say anything to anyone?” I didn’t say it was my mum I was worried about. But there was no reason she’d need to know, just so long as he didn’t go talking about it at the country club where he worked, the same country club my mother was a member of.
“Scout’s honour,” he promised.
“Good. I guess we should play some real tennis then.” I smiled as I bounced a ball, enjoying how right it felt in my hand. I could give Luke what he wanted. I could play, but still had to be careful. I'd be good, but not too good, and he’d just think I was some girl who’d played a bit of tennis.
And so, we played, and it was heaven. Just the sound of the ball, the pounding of running feet and my pulse thumping in my ears at the unexpected exercise. The sun was shining on the court and I felt glorious. It was like my arms and my legs just knew what to do without me even having to think. I liked not thinking, just doing.
“You don’t need to hold back on my account,” Luke said, bringing me back to reality as he swiped at a ball near the net.
“Who said I’m holding back?”
“Cami,” he gave me a patronising look, “I know tennis. I might not be able to quote Descartes but give me some credit where it is actually due. I’ve been coaching for a while now and recognise when someone isn’t giving it their all.”
“Maybe I don’t want to give it my all,” I responded, not meeting his eyes as I focussed on returning the ball.
He was quiet after that, but some of the magic had gone. He was right, I wanted to go all out. But that was a dangerous path. He’d see how good I was, and it wouldn’t be hard to connect the dots after that, and then he’d ask more questions. It wouldn’t take much more pushing for me to tell him the truth. I already wanted to. But it wouldn’t end there; he’d want even more, and I wasn’t ready to reveal everything.
In the distance, a bell rang and we both stopped. It was lunchtime, so there was no rush to leave, but we’d need to pack away because there’d soon be other people milling about, and there was no way I was playing where anyone but Luke could see.
We both took a long drink of water and then Luke started on me again.
“You can clearly still do more than you’re doing.”
“Maybe you should just be grateful with what you’re getting? It’s all good practice, isn’t it?” I tried not to let my temper flare up. I couldn’t take anymore pushing, not today.
“I suppose so,” he smiled, “plus I get a date out of it too.”
“It’s not a date!” I stated. “I’m just going to show you I’m perfectly capable of having fun—that is, your stupid idea of fun anyway.”
“My idea of fun would definitely include an actual date, someone who wanted to be there with me.”
Gulp, hormones in overdrive. I couldn’t have that. He was definitely making me vulnerable, in more ways than one.
“I thought I made it pretty clear I don’t want you in my personal space,” I answered, repressively.
“Yeah, you did. But then you rubbed yourself against me like a cat who wanted to be stroked.”
He was flirting with me again, but I wasn’t in the mood for it now. I wanted to think, mostly about tennis, not about Luke.
“I was being ironic,” I snapped, putting my racket away and not looking at him.
“The irony went over my head. All I got was that you don’t like being touched, but you have no compunction about it if it’s someone else getting touched by you?”
I silently exhaled with frustration. He wasn’t letting it go.
“Let me get one thing clear, Luke. I don’t want you to touch me, as a coach or as a date. Got it?”
“Got it. You don’t like me.” His voice lost all its teasing. I should have been relieved but instead, I just felt bad. I made my escape before I told him the truth.
I do like you, that’s the problem.