“A peach?” I feel my eyes go wide and my smile deepens. “Surely, not my brother.”
“He just wants to intimidate me a little. I’d do the same forCarmen.” When he says his sister’s name, it’s full of endearment that causes my heart to swell. I wish my own brother would hold me in such high regard.
“I promise you, he’s not that concerned about me,” I tell him behind a mouthful of chicken, covering my mouth before taking a huge gulp of soda.
A doubtful look slots into his features. “You don’t really think that, do you? He loves you, Sloane.” I roll my eyes. “We haven’t always seen eye to eye, you know…with Will being my best friend, but…he’s sensitive. And he worries about you. He shouldn’t be worried aboutme,” he adds, smirking as he offers me a bite of his General Tso’s that I gladly nip off the fork.
“No, I don’t think he should be,” I agree, fighting the happiness threatening to leave permanent dimples in my cheeks. “You can always tell how good a man is by how he treats the woman who raised him.” He pulls his fork back, glancing down at his plate as he pushes some food around before deciding on a sliver of carrot.
“That so?”
“I think so. I mean you and Rebecca—prime example.” I cock my head, thinking. “Grant’s obviously not great with Connie, but heworshipsEvie. I don’t know much about Ben’s mother, but Liv’s never said anything weird. Oh my god, but,” I sit up, leaning across the table. “She did say Will and her like, barely speak. So,” I shrug, taking a bite out of a spring roll.
“I don’t know if that’s really fair,” Andy says quietly, like he’s chewing on a thought.
“Defendin’ him to me is futile, Andrew,” I tell him. “He hurtbothof my best friends. He’s like…a sociopath.”
“He’snota sociopath. He’s just…”
“Donotsay traumatized,” I say right as he says it, and I scoff, amusement rolling through me. “You’re just like Clementine.”
“Empathetic?” he smirks, glancing up from his plate as he scoops up water chestnut.
“Soft,” I giggle. “I’m empathetic. Some would say to a fault.”
“No such thing. I told you—I think you’re perfect.”
“Mhm,” I hum, taking another sip of my drink. “There he goes again.” I brush the hair off the nape of my neck, warm from the blush he’s constantly sending across me with just a glance, just a look. Right now, he’s set down the fork he opted for instead of chopsticks, is blotting his mouth with a napkin, and is looking at me like I hung the moon.
I want to tell him to knock it off, to be serious, to look at me for who I am, but the feeling is intoxicating. And most of all, I want to believe him.
He moves to where I’m sitting, pulling me into him.
“Not so fast, pretty boy.” I swat him away, taking another bite of my chicken before getting up. “I’m inspired, and I’ve got work to do. We have all the time in the world…remember?” I wink and make my way back to the sun soaked canvas.
32
Andy
The team's been off since Will left, like a kid learning to ride their bike, wobbly and unbalanced. I know Ben feels it, too, with the way his eyes slide around the court, looking for his brother before he finally settles on me. He gives me that smirk—his only tell. The ball comes at me like a bullet and I swipe it out of the air. The one advantage of Will not being here: I can play harder, move faster. Grant even slapped me on the back in the first half.
Maybe it isn’t Will’s absence that is upping my game, though. Maybe it’s the tall blonde in the stands holding the hand of a tiny eleven year old, my number boldly plastered on both their jerseys.
They jump up as soon as the ball is in my vicinity. I can hear Carm’s voice screaming, “C’mon sixteen!” and I let myself grin, let myself show the others that that little girl means something to me. Something I wouldn’t have dared to do just a couple weeks ago.
In fact, I don’t think she’s even been to a game this season.Normally, I’ll get her and mom one ticket a season and hope that Mom’s working. It’s not that I’m embarrassed of them—I’m embarrassed ofme. Who I become the moment I set foot on campus. The unserious play boy without a care in the world, the complete opposite of how I was raised.
I sink a basket, turning toward where they're seated in the stands and let that warm feeling flow through me as I watch the two jump and scream, both of them throwing the pom poms I’m sure Sloane bought at concessions in the air.
I’m glad they’re here. It’s not something I’m used to if, I’m being honest, having two people who care about me cheer me on. I sort of get it now—why Ben and Grant are always excited to see their girls front and center, the sappy gestures they make toward them mid game. I find myself wanting to do it, too.
The buzzer sounds, signaling the end of the fourth quarter. I was too swept up in the sight of my girls to notice I just landed the final basket of the night, the winning basket. I feel Grant’s giant chest pummel me in a congratulatory hug as Ben swings his arm around me, ruffling my hair. The rest of the guys are celebrating our win, too, our ticket to playoffs and still I’m in this daze. The stands are abuzz, the excitement vibrating through them as stomping fills the bleacher lined court, but all I see is her.
She’s still in the sea of movement, her dark ocean eyes locked with mine and for a second things feel perfect, a moment frozen in time. Just the upward tick of the corner of her mouth, the way her bubblegum pink tongue licks her bottom lip, letting me know she’s mine.
With a blink it’s over. The tidal wave of sound crashes into me as I feel dozens of guys slap me on the back, hollering congratulations, and when I look back she’s gone.
I shower and change as quickly as possible, doing my bestto avoid Scott. It annoys him, I know, but now that Will’s gone I don’t really see the point in pretending to have any sort of a friendship with him.
