Cassidy glanced at me, but I knew better than to say anything.
“We’ll just share this one,” she said, patting the duvet. “Captain’s privileges, Ellicott. You get your own bed.”
And that was how I wound up sharing a bed with Cassidy Thorpe.
Before I knew what was happening, Cassidy had changed into a tank top and pajama shorts and crawled under the covers. I came out of the bathroom in my boxers and T-shirt, feeling horribly self-conscious. Austin and Sam were already asleep, scooted toward opposite edges of their bed, both of them snoring.
Cassidy put a finger to her lips and nodded at Austin, whose mouth was wide open.
I grinned.
“Hey,” I whispered, “I didn’t bring pajamas. Do you mind if, er, is it okay?”
I was trying to be a gentleman about climbing into bed with her in my boxers since I’d stupidly underpacked, but Cassidy shook her head and peeled back the covers.
“Just get in,” she said.
I sat down, plugging in my phone on the nightstand, an action that felt incredibly grown up when there was a girl on the other side of the bed. And then I felt Cassidy’s hand on my leg.
“Does it still hurt?” she asked, sliding her fingers over my knee.
“No,” I lied quietly.
Cassidy’s fingers traced over my scars, and I could tell she didn’t believe me.
“You don’t have to worry,” I said. “About kicking me in your sleep or anything.”
“But I wouldn’t want to.” She propped herself on one elbow, staring at me. “You’ll have to hold me tight, to make sure I don’t.”
And with that, she rolled over and turned off the light.
I crawled under the covers, waiting for my eyes to adjust and having the strange idea that Cassidy could see me just fine in complete blackness. The blinds were drawn, and the room was thick with an expectant sort of darkness filled with sleeping bodies and girls wearing tiny blue pajama shorts.
If I stretched, our arms would touch. The possibility of it, of our skin meeting under the covers, thrilled me. I wondered if she was thinking about it too. And then she sighed.
“What?” I whispered.
“Shhh,” Cassidy whispered back, scooting toward me until her head was on my shoulder. “Don’t ruin it.”
Even though it was late and I was tired, I must have lain there for an hour, frustrated and hard and unable to do anything about it as Cassidy slept with her cheek against my shoulder.
17
I WOKE UP the next morning to the chorus of everyone’s coordinated cell phone alarms, feeling like death. My arms were wrapped around Cassidy, and somehow my head was on her shoulder, though I was certain it had been the other way around when we’d fallen asleep.
“Hey,” I said gently. “Wake up.”
“Mmmmm,” Cassidy murmured sleepily. Her hair spilled off the pillow in a fierce tangle, and it was so incredibly intimate, waking up with her there, in my arms, that I could hardly stand it.
From the next bed, Sam groaned.
“Dude, I thought you were gonna stay on your side!” he complained.
“That’s so sweet,” I called. “Who was the big spoon?”
“Shut up, Faulkner,” Austin grumbled.
Cassidy snuggled against my arm, curling into a ball.
“Five more minutes,” she whispered.
“Come on,” I said, nudging her, “you have to get up and iron my shirt.”
That got her.
Cassidy’s eyes flew open, and her mouth twisted into a smirk.
“Good morning to you too,” she said.
I DON’T KNOW how we managed to get dressed, gather our stuff, and get down to the lobby on time, but we did. I thought Ms. Weng was going to suspect us for sure, the state we were in, but she hardly noticed. There were circles under her eyes and she kept yawning. The jerks from Rancho had probably kept her up half the night with their Beer Pong.
“Can we stop somewhere for coffee?” Toby asked, and Ms. Weng actually agreed, so by the time we arrived at SDAPA, we were all handling the morning a lot better.
Ms. Weng drifted off toward the coaches’ lounge, and we headed toward our table in the cafeteria to drop our stuff and wait for the next round to post. The girls left to apply makeup in the bathroom and Toby wandered off toward a quiet corner of the cafeteria, motioning for me to follow.
“So,” he said pointedly, grinning as though he was accusing me of “nailing it,” “are you two together now?”
Reflexively, I glanced toward our table, even though the girls still hadn’t returned.
“I don’t know,” I said truthfully. “Maybe.”
“You’re certainly acting like it.”
He was right; we were acting like it. I’d spent the whole night with a girl cuddled against my shoulder like we’d just had sex—a girl I was in love with, and whom I’d never even kissed. And I had no idea what to do about it.
“Would it bother you if we were?” I asked.
“Well, I’m not going to fly into a jealous rage or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Toby smirked, but saw that I was serious. “Honestly? I’ve sort of known it was going to happen. She’s into you.”
“You’re sure?” I asked.
“No, I want you to make a fool of yourself and actually be rejected for the first time in your life. I’m like the proverbial ostrich that kicks sand in your face, my friend.”
“Actually, they bury their beaks in the sand,” I said.
“Just testing.”
The third round posted then, before I could say anything, and everyone crushed toward the far wall to get a look. Toby and I pushed our way to the front, finding our last names and school name printed on the tournament roster. We memorized our room numbers, muttering them under our breaths.
We were walking back to the table when Cassidy grabbed my arm. Her expression was serious, and I noticed that she wasn’t wearing the Gryffindor tie anymore, just a plain school uniform.
“Hey,” she said.
“Third round is posted.” I nodded toward the wall. “I’ll wait for you so we can walk together.”
“Ezra,” Cassidy said. “We have to talk. Now.”
And I knew that whatever it was she needed to say, it wasn’t going to be good. I followed her out of the cafeteria and into the courtyard. She stopped by this mosaic wall featuring a perfect day at the beach; it was sort of cruel, if you thought about it, putting something like that up in a school. Cassidy looked nervous, which didn’t bode well. And she still wasn’t saying anything. I was suddenly overcome with a heavy sense of dread.
“You can tell me,” I said. “Whatever it is.”
Cassidy tucked her hair behind her ears. She was wearing it down, in loose waves, and it made her look younger, somehow, and more vulnerable.
“You can’t go to your third round,” she said. “You have to go to mine. I switched us.”
Whatever I’d been expecting her to say, this wasn’t it. This wasn’t even close. I frowned, not really understanding.
“You’ve been competing as me,” she explained. “The judges don’t see our names, just, like, a string of numbers, so I sent you to my rounds yesterday, not yours.”
“Wait,” I said, as the full impact of what Cassidy was saying sunk in. “All this time, we’ve been cheating?”
“No!” Cassidy said fiercely. “I just . . . I’m done competing, Ezra. I left this, and you brought me back. So I figured you’d be my way out of having to really do this. Like I wasn’t really here after all, if you were me.”
“Yeah,” I said slowly, “but if I’m competing as you, then you’re competing as me. Which is cheating.”
Cassidy shook her head.
“I threw the first match,” she promised. “Neither of us is going to make the finals.”
“It’s still wrong,” I said. “Even if neither of us wins. So, what, I’m supposed to keep competing as you all day?”
“Basically,” Cassidy said, her chin jutting stubbornly. And then, as if in slow motion, I watched her bravado crumple. Her shoulders sagged, and her eyes welled with tears.