1
NATHAN
My skin prickles, beads of sweat trickling down the neck of my polo. Sun floods the courts, bathing the artificial blue surface in a sickly light. I adjust my cap so the peak’s shielding the back of my neck and get ready to return Priestley’s serve.
You can get a decent read on some players. Especially if you practice with them frequently. They have tells. The slightest glance to one part of the court. The miniscule turn of a foot.
But Priestley?Yeah, good luck getting a read on him.
His body gives nothing away. I watch his eyes over the net, trying to gage where he’s looking.Nada.
Blood rushes in my ears at the ball toss. His feet leave the court as he brings the racket down. There’s thatthwackas it connects. Priestley’s grunt. A split second to react.
I guess left. I’m wrong. The ball flies past me.
When I glance over the net, Priestley’s wearing that shit-eating grin I’m sure he came out of the womb wearing.
“Better luck next time, Carter,” he shouts across the court.
By the timewe finish practice, my polo’s so drenched with sweat, I could wring it out. Priestley’s sweating, but not like a pig, not like me. His sweat’s almost artful. A few beads on his top lip and dappling the back of his neck under the backward cap.
“Good game,” he says as we shake hands over the net.
“Yeah, I’ll get you next time.”
He laughs, throwing his head back and exposing a long, smooth neck.
“I’m just glad you’re on my side,” I say.
Kissing his ass feels better than being a sore loser. And we’re a team here. If Priestley wins, we all win.
He takes his shirt off, exposing the lean muscles of his perfect, tan skin. I look away, heading over to get some water.
When I check my phone, there’s a ton of missed calls, voicemails and messages from my mom, telling me to call her back.What the fuck?
I step away from Priestley to make the call. He may look like he isn’t paying attention, but I know from experience that he’s always taking notes.
“Hey Mom, what’s up? Is everyone okay?”
There’s a split second where every possible scenario runs through my head. I force myself not to panic.
“Everyone’s fine.” Mom says.
“So what’s wrong? Why have you been blowing my phone up?”
She laughs. “Nathan! I was notblowing your phone up. Seriously, sometimes you speak to me like I’m some sorority girl you picked up at a party….”
When she gets worked up like that, her accent comes out—her real one.
“Sorry. You just worried me is all.”
She collects herself and takes a deep breath before continuing. “I was calling to let you know that Joe Flannigan died.”
The sheen of sweat covering every inch of my body turns suddenly cold.Shit, I’m not prepared for this right now.Priestley’s watching me discreetly as he sips his water. I realize I haven’t responded to Mom and try to find the right words to say.
“Nathan, are you still there?”
“Yeah, yeah, sorry, it’s just … I’m in shock.”
