“Yeah, you give him that message word for word. And be sure not to leave out the asshole or the fucking, you suck-ass, brown-nosing piece of shit. . . . Yeah, yeah, you have a good night, too, Todd.”

The sound of the phone being slammed into the receiver, and then silence.

Charlie pulled out the tennis ball that she’d sliced open, stuck a note inside—Rematch. Midnight. Winner takes all—from her bag, rolled it around her palm. Her timing, it seemed, couldn’t have been worse. Hard to imagine Jude would be in the mood for a romantic interlude after that scene with his dad’s staff member or whoever that Todd guy was. Then she reflected on the situation a bit more. Realized that maybe her timing wasn’t as bad as she’d first thought. After all, Jude was vulnerable right now, cracks finally showing in his too-cool facade. Could be he was ready to loosen his grip on that ironic edge of his. Could be he was ready to let somebody in.

Her, if she played her cards right.

She decided to take the chance. After counting to a hundred slowly in her head so he wouldn’t know she’d overheard anything private, she snuck a quick peek in the window. Jude was lying motionless on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, flask open and balanced on his stomach. She lobbed the ball through the opening, listened for the sound of it landing, then ran back down to the beach.

• • •

Charlie walked fast. Not fast enough, though, to beat Jude. By the time she hopped the club fence, crossed the enormous golf course, he was already on the lit-up court, twirling his racquet. He must’ve driven, she thought as she approached the net, forcing herself to slow down, to walk not run.

“You got my message,” she said, regretting the words as soon as they were out of her mouth. Obviously he got her message.

But he didn’t seem to notice the dumbness of her observation. “You could’ve just texted me, you know.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“I guess there isn’t any.” He dropped the ball, caught it when it bounced back up.

“Well, there you go,” she said. She tried to arrange her body in a way that felt natural but she was stiff-jointed, and every one of her limbs was sticking out at a sharp, tense angle. And in that moment she realized that even though she had Jude right where she wanted him, everything going according to plan, that she’d never be able to pull it off, was in way over her head. Black panic started to overtake her.

Jude looked down at his feet, then back at her face, bounced the ball a couple more times. “So, how long were you standing outside my window?” he asked, with a laugh he cut off almost as soon as it began.