For the Love of Tennis | ✅

Chapter 24

I wake up to the sound of a door opening. For a second I forget where I am and the darkness terrifies me. But then I can make out the slope of the chair and the sharp edges of the desk, and I’m at ease once again.

So I did fall asleep in the end.

“Chandy?” comes a voice faintly from the other side of the door. I press my ear to it, craving his voice once more. “Chandy?”

“Here,” I say loudly.

There’s scuffing and soon I hear him a lot clearer than before.

“You’re in here? Behind this door?” There’s a rapping which sounds above me.

“Yeah.”

I hear the squeak of the door handle and small thuds as he tries to yank the door open.

“Give me a second. Do you know of anything heavy in here that I could use?”

“Chair?” I suggest. “Crate from the store room?”

“Okay, I’ll be back.”

“It’s not like I’ll be going anywhere.”
His chuckle fades away for a few minutes. And then:

THUD! THUD! THUMP!

“How strong are you?” I mutter between each thud.

But the door doesn’t budge.

“Keep trying!” I urge.

There’s a growl from the other end and then another series of thumps, this time louder than the first few. But the door still remains jammed.

“I could,” he says, out of breath, “just ask Gabe to give me his gun and blow the lock off for you.”

“What?” I reply, incredulous.

“Was that too much information?”

“He’d end up blowing me up instead of the lock!”

“Not if I took the shot.”

“You are not using a gun on me!”

“Okay, okay.” I can almost hear the smile in his voice. “Well there’s no getting you out of here as far as I can tell.”

We fall into a silence. Then it dawns on me that I’ll be spending the entire night locked in this stuffy office.

“I’m not leaving you,” Amias says matter-of-factly. “I’m going to plant myself right here”—I hear him sliding down the door until his back rests against it—“and I’ll be here if you need anything.”

“That’s kind of you.”

“It’s the least I can do. I’d hate to think what’d happen of you all alone in here.”

“I’d probably get eaten by the printer.”

“Stabbed by the scissors.”

“Squished to death by the desk.”

“Okay, stop. You’re scaring me,” he says in mock-fright, much to my amusement.

“It’s getting late,” I say, checking my watch. Almost two am. I take off my jacket and bundle it on the floor.

“Yeah, of course. Sleep tight, Chands.”

“Night.”

I try to fall asleep, but I keep wishing the door wasn’t in between us.