She leaned in again, her voice intense. "You're the one spending actual quality time with her now, right? Pying sensei with this whole… 'get fit quick' scheme she's on?" The slightest hint of mockery tinged the 'sensei' comment, but the underlying worry seemed genuine, which was still throwing James for a loop.
"So spill. What's the real tea? Is she okay? Is she running herself ragged?"
"Still moping about that tournament loss like it was the literal Olympics?"
James hesitated. The crowded, noisy hallway felt like the absolute worst pce for this conversation. Dipa's motivation – the whole crush-fueled fitness journey – felt deeply personal, almost embarrassingly vulnerable. She'd confided in him during a quiet moment, looking mortified but determined.
Bsting it out here felt like a betrayal, like reading someone's diary over the school intercom. He pictured Dipa's horrified face if she knew.
But… Toya looked genuinely concerned. Not her usual calcuted performance, but actual, unvarnished worry for her friend. The kind of worry that made her frown lines visible and her voice tight. They weren't exactly bosom buddies, but the shared experience with the scammer targeting Toya's grandmother, and now this ridiculously convoluted fake dating pact… it had forged some kind of weird, tentative bond.
Maybe telling Toya, framing it carefully, wouldn't be the end of the world? Maybe she could even… help? Ugh. This required navigating a social minefield blindfolded.
He took a deep breath.
"Okay, look," James began, lowering his voice even further, practically murmuring into her ear. He instinctively gnced around again, feeling like they were exchanging state secrets. "It’s… complicated. And you gotta keep this under wraps, seriously."
Toya nodded impatiently, urging him on. "I don't think it's just about the tournament anymore. I mean, yeah, that probably still bites. But the main engine driving this whole workout crusade right now is…"
He paused, feeling his cheeks warm slightly. This was so awkward. "Okay, brace yourself… it's because of a guy."
Toya blinked. Once. Twice. Her eyes widened, her perfectly applied eyeliner making the effect even more dramatic.
"Excuse me? A GUY? Dipa? Our Dipa?"
"Sweet, slightly-oblivious-to-flirting Dipa?" The questions tumbled out, ced with pure, unadulterated shock.
"Yeah," James confirmed, shifting his weight and feeling intensely uncomfortable, like he was narrating a particurly cheesy teen drama. "The story I got… apparently she overheard him – whoever 'he' is – saying something about how he's only into girls who are, like… 'athletic'. Fit. Sporty."
He made a vague, helpless gesture with his hands. "You know the type. Probably posts gym selfies unironically." He added the st part under his breath.
"So, yeah. She took that comment, processed it through the Dipa-logic-filter, and decided the only possible course of action was to transform into a track star overnight. Hence, the crack-of-dawn park sessions." He braced himself, expecting Toya to burst out ughing or roll her eyes into the next dimension.
Instead, Toya just stared at him for a long moment, the information slowly sinking in. The initial shock melted away, repced by a cascade of other emotions – flickering disbelief, dawning understanding, and then, unexpectedly, a wave of profound, almost maternal sympathy. "Oh. My. God." A small, breathless ugh escaped her, completely devoid of malice.
"No freakin' way! Seriously? Dipa?"
