“You think you can take me?” Theo challenges, crossing his arms with a grin.
“You’re on,” I reply, determined not to let him beat me. He drops in a few quarters, and the game timer starts counting down. My competitive streak kicks in as I shoot basket after basket, some landing, others bouncing Theo’s ball out of the way.
“I see how it is,” he says, sinking three baskets in a row with infuriating ease. His form is perfect—elbow tucked, wrist flicking just right—and the scoreboard flashes even.
I grab a ball with both hands and fire off shot after shot, my rhythm building until I’m ahead by six. “Bet you didn’t expect that, did you?”
He laughs, the sound low and warm. “Beginner’s luck.”
Hedidn’tjust say that.
As he lines up his next shot, I lean in and nudge his elbow. The ball clangs off the rim.
“Oh, we’re playing dirty now?” His eyes spark with mischief as he turns to face me.
I shrug, biting back a grin. “All’s fair in love and basketball.”
“Love, huh?” He effortlessly makes another hoop. “Interesting choice of words.”
Why did I say that? I attempt to formulate an explanation but find myself momentarily unable to think clearly. “You know what I meant.”
“Do I?” The dimple from his grin is doing dangerous things to my concentration.
The timer ticks down. I whirl back to the hoop and launch another ball. It swishes through the net, and I pump my fist. “Ha! Still winning.”
“For now.” He scoops up two balls at once and starts rapid firing them toward the hoop. One goes in. Then another. The gap between our scores narrows.
No way am I letting him catch up.
I grab a ball and accidentally-on-purpose bump his hip as I shoot. He stumbles, laughing, and his next shot goes wide.
“Foul!” he protests.
“Prove it,” I shoot back, scoring another basket.
He gives me a playful shove—gentle, just enough to throw me off balance. I grab his arm to steady myself, and before I know it, his fingers interlock with mine. His eyes linger on me, and I don’t mind one bit.
Then the buzzer blares, shattering the moment.
I jerk back and throw my hands up in victory, grinning like I’ve won the lottery. “And the crowd goes wild!”
“You got me,” Theo says, his hands up in surrender. “How about a rematch?”
“What’s the matter?” I lift my chin, feeling bold. “Not used to a girl kicking your butt at sports?”
“I don’t mind if it’s you.”
Just as I swallow my fluttering heart back into place, Paige approaches us with assessing eyes. “There you are!”
Stephanie and Ian return from air hockey, and the whole situation seems surreal. We’re hanging out with the popular kids like we’re part of the same clique.
Page invites us to her party again, saying that everyone is welcome.
Stephanie gives me an enthusiastic nudge, and the smitten expression on Ian’s face tells me he’s forgotten all about what happened in the lunchroom the first week of class.
Typical.
I sigh, knowing they will never let me hear the end of it if I say no again.
