Crap. I slump in my seat as the coach calls the team to attention.
“Smooth.” Harper nods in approval. If Harper had her way, I would have shouted those last words in a bullhorn straight into Grant’s ear. She’s not above me stealing his hearing in an effort to show off the fact I’m strong without him. I wish it were true. That’s what tonight is about—making it true. By the time I leave this glorified sports arena, I’m going to be Ava Vincent, heart of steel.
The team breaks up again, and players scurry in every direction. Rush waves and heads on up. He’s tall and stately on a normal day, but in his basketball uniform, with him standing over the three of us, Rush looks like a giant—a slightly perverted and vexingly hot giant with a dirty grin on his face. But I’m not interested in his dirty grin or his vexingly hot looks. Rush may as well be my big brother—a real one.
“You came.” He high-fives me. It was Rush who insisted I make an appearance. Rush and I have spent an awful lot of time together these last few days. He’s sort of taken on the role of my personal counselor, which I appreciate. But the main role he’s voluntarily undertaken is as Grant’s biggest cheerleader. That’s the reason I like hanging out with Rush the most—we both seem to linger in conversations that have anything remotely to do with Grant. “You want seats down front? You can sit with the team.” He tries to take my hand, but I retract it.
“Are you insane?” I glance down at the bench and spot Grant knocking back a bottle of water with his stare still zeroed in on us. As soon as our eyes meet, he’s quick to look away.
“Just checking.” He holds his hands up a moment. “Post-game party at Beta. I better see you there.” He heads back to the team just as Darcy starts in on a spastic wave.
“Grant! Number twenty-one!” She bounces in her seat, shouting his name like a mantra before snagging his attention. She motions him over, and he walks to the edge of the stands, leaning in with an uneasy look on his face.
I glance down at my phone, pretending to be unaware of the spectacle she’s creating.
“Up here, silly!” Darcy belts out a laugh, and I can’t help but think she sounds like a hyena. Not that hyenas are unlovable—it’s just that I think they should come with a mute button. At least the people version.
My phone bleats. It’s Daisy.How’s it going?
He’s on his way over.I hit send.
I knew it!I can practically feel Daisy’s excitement.
I text back.To see his ex-girlfriend.
Grant edges his way into Darcy’s aisle, his eyes staying focused on the task at hand, but there’s something about being in this close proximity that sends me into a mild panic attack with my heart jumping into my throat, my blood pounding in my ears.
Lucky tucks her elbow in my rib while Harper clasps her hand over my knee and gives it the squeeze of death.
The phone vibrates in my hand.Asshole.I can’t help but shed a tiny smile at Daisy’s text.
Grant stops dead in front of me, and my heart stops right along with him.
“Get over here! Let me give you some luck!” Darcy springs to her feet before throwing herself on him.
Harper leans in and whispers, “Some bad luck.”
But it doesn’t look bad from here. Grant carefully embraces her in return before taking off and speeding toward the court. Nope. Didn’t look bad. Looked pretty great to me. Grant’s arms wrapped around my body is something I’ll never feel again.
Lucky leans in. “Are you okay?”
“I’m great.” I stare at my phone, and as if on command Daisy texts back.
And then what happened???
I text back.And then they hugged it out and lived happily ever after.
Daisy doesn’t waste a second.Crap. Sorry you had to witness it.
I debate a moment on whether or not to go with the truth or a lie.I’m fine. I promise.For all practical purposes, I go with the lie.
The game drones on, too loud, too many boys dancing with the ball between their legs, too many buzzers and whistles sounding off.
Rush and Lawson come up and talk to us during halftime, but Darcy drifts down to the court and shows off her all-access pass to the boy I once loved—still pathetically do. Not sure what to do with that—unrequited love. It sounds beyond pathetic, like some tragic romance novel gone awry. That’s what’s become of us. We’ve reduced ourselves to mere caricatures of who we used to be. The irony isn’t lost on me. In an attempt to become my own person, I fall for the one human being who can never truly accept me for who I am. I realize that now, and in a macabre way, I think I deserve this. I ran so far from who I was and ended up full circle. The truth being, I could never really outrun myself. Dammit, I tried, though, and in doing so, I ran right into Grant.
The final buzzer sounds, and the squeak of shoes is replaced with the groan of the crowd along with a mixed applause. I’m so stoned by my own sorrow I don’t even know if we’ve won or lost. The crowd mingles onto the court, and I watch as Darcy practically flies down to the bench and leaps onto her number twenty-one. Grant’s body is slicked with sweat, his hair dripping wet, and she cringes as she pulls him into a hug. I wonder if I would have done the same. A playful cringe-worthy moment, but this version of me would have gladly pressed my lips to his, adhered my body to his tall, sticky frame, and groaned with an ache that only the thrill of passion could bring.
Lucky lifts me out of my seat. “You’re drooling.”
