Page 39 of Falling Offsides

“Like?” A beat passes, then Delilah’s voice softens—still teasing, but quieter now. “Are you sure you kept your distance just to prove a point?”

Courtney groans and my pulse skitters in my chest. “We are not doing this.”

Delilah laughs. “All I’m saying is, you didn’t hate it when he called you a brat. You didn’t hate the muffin. And you definitely don’t hate talking about him.”

Courtney walks toward the utility room. “This is why I shouldn’t document my life to you.”

Delilah cackles. “Girl, this is why you need to admit that maybe you want him to keep showing up.”

“Don’t you have anything better to do with your vacation than meddle in my love life?”

“Ooooh, we’re calling it your love life now? So?—”

“No. Go back to vacationing.”

“Dude, it’s literally six a.m.,” Delilah says through a yawn, her voice crackling through Courtney’s speaker.

“Maybe you should focus on finding yourself romance in paradise,” Courtney pivots. “Isn’t Greece crawling with brooding mythological types?”

“There’s a shocking lack of tortured Adonises,” Delilah sighs. “I’ve seen more linen pants than leather cuffs.”

“Maybe you’re looking in the wrong ruins.”

“Oh please. I may not have found a tortured hero, but I did find the goddess of carbs.”

Courtney snorts. “You’re not allowed to call croissants Greek.”

“The hell I can’t when they’re stuffed with local fig jam and goat cheese… drizzled with honey and roasted walnuts. Besides it’s too early for baklava.”

“Sounds like the best thing you’ve ever put in your mouth.”

“Babe, I might propose to my plate.” After a beat, Delilah asks the question I murmur at my screen, “Have you had dinner yet?”

“Not yet. I was gonna head out for groceries but—” A pause. “I don’t feel like going back out.”

“What are you having, then?”

“Maybe a protein bar. I think I still have one from the flight.”

“The fuck? No,” I snap down at my MacBook, glancing at the clockat the same time as Delilah asserts, “You arenothaving a protein bar for dinner. Eww, do not make me disown you. College is over.”

“Too fucking right,” I grumble over Court’s laughter, stroking the pup’s head so he doesn’t freak out at my harsh tone while she ends the call with her friend. He flops back down into a heap on my hoodie as I murmur, “It’s okay, bud. I’m going to fix this.”

Pulling up UberEats on my phone, I scroll until I find the same restaurant from last night. They’ve got a ramen bowl with miso broth and grilled chicken. Warm. Protein-rich. Easy on the stomach. Perfect after swimming.

Before I order, I call the restaurant, double-check about dairy.

They’re good.

I’m good.

The order goes in.

Ramen. Extra protein. Seaweed salad. Coconut water. Extra napkins. Delivered to the front desk with no name.

Back on the screen, Courtney’s disappearing in the direction of the bedroom like a blur. A very pale, naked blur.

My mouth dries, even though I saw nothing. Not really. My chest is pounding as I switch to the camera in her room when the bathroom door clicks shut.