There’s nobody I know here. We have a half an hour left on our court, and then I can play a few games if I want, otherwise I can go home.Just lock the heck in, Alecia.
“There we go.” Garrett turns and screws on the lid.
The front doors open as we walk past the registration desk, and the air shifts. I look up automatically and freeze. Calder walks in wearing his navy-blue staff tee and gray shorts, his haton backward. He turns his head and stops, his eyes locking on the glasses I’m wearing, and I instantly know.
They’re from him. Calder got me the glasses. My stomach feels like it’s being scooped out like a pumpkin. Why would he do something like that?
I’m not a nice guy.
His attention flicks to Garrett standing next to me. A muscle in his jaw ticks. “Hey. What are you doing here?”
thirteen
The question isn’tfor Garrett, it’s for me. After that one look in Garrett’s direction, Calder barely acknowledges he exists. Which is weird for someone who’s supposed to be a friend.
Calder got me these glasses. Did he also get me the membership? Was that part of taking lessons here? A perk?
“Oh, just doing some drilling after work,” Garrett answers.
I wince as Calder’s eyebrow quirks.
“Huh.”
Garrett strides forward and claps him on the shoulder. “Glad to see you, buddy. I wasn’t sure you’d make it tonight.”
My eyes narrow.Garrett knew Calder was coming?
The doors open again to more players, and realization dawns. Right. Open play. Everyone’s going to be showing up in the next thirty minutes.
Garrett walks back to me. “Want to get some mini games in before open play?”
I nod. Calder rounds the desk and busies himself with something in his bag as I start back toward our court. I need to explain this. Tell him Garrett had no idea we’d done lessons already. Calder would understand. He was the one who gave me the idea in the first place.
Garrett waits by the gate, and his hand lands on my lower back as I walk through. I stiffen. Has he ever touched me like that before? I glance up, but see his head turned toward the desk where Calder is still standing.
Our court is closest to the front desk.
Garrett knew Calder was coming.
“Is that a new skirt?” Garrett’s hand shifts to my hip, as he cocks his head to look at me.
“Yeah.”
“I like the color.”
The words feel oily, and pull back, pretending I’m in a hurry to get on the other side of the net. So. Garrett had planned this. Did he actually want to spend time with me or was our so-called date just a pissing match?
Garrett suggests we play skinny court. Similar to seven-eleven but we both start at the baseline and work our way up to the net. He serves, and I smack the ball back deep. These are the shots I’m most comfortable with.
Garrett hits a drop, and I’m already in the mid-court. I drive it. I know the goal is to drop it, but I don’t have it in me. I need to hit something. Hard.
Garrett blocks, but he obviously wasn’t ready for that shot. “Wow,” he laughs. “That break got you fired up.”
“You could say that.”
He tosses me the ball, and I serve it. When I drive his return, he’s ready for it. Something in his face changes—interest? Challenge? He starts taking it seriously now, matching my pace. The ball speeds up between us.
He laughs again. “Where’s this been hiding?”
