Once I could see that he was ready, I went into athletic-Alex mode. I was never terrible at sports; I just didn’t care for them too much. The continuous running back and forth and the gnawing anxiety of messing up were huge turnoffs. I was lucky my parents never had a dream of me being a star athlete. Dad always said sports were a waste of time, and only those who weren’t smart enough to excel in school chose sports instead.
A piece of my heart broke each time he said that, because River chose sports, yet he was the smartest person I knew. And I had chosen school, but my subpar grades proved I didn’t have a talent for it. So if not sports and not school, what did I have? The overwhelming stress that followed me closer than my own shadow?
Shoving the derogatory thoughts into the back of my mind, I advanced with the ball. River, watching my moves closely, didn’t make any sudden movements. He was trying to predict my movements, but his stance was awkward and unnatural, as it was hard to stand athletically with his shoelaces tied together.
I dodged to the right, and he darted in the same direction with his arms out wide, blocking me. It would’ve worked for him had he not tripped over himself. As he barely caught himself before colliding with the ground, I used the opportunity to secure my first point with a layup.
I ran up to him with the ball in my hands and a big-ass grin. River was still on the ground, but he was sitting upright and leaning on his hands behind him. I towered over him for once, and it only made my smile grow wider. “Still confident?”
But his smirk never faltered. “As ever.”
Rolling my eyes, I extended my hand to him, and he took it without hesitation. River’s movements were hindered just as I expected. He had to adjust his normal effortless movements to fit the problem he had at his feet, which required lots of rethinking and flexibility. I had to give it to him, though; he was doing a lot better than I thought he would.
I was winning, but he still managed to score two points on me. He wouldn’t admit it, but they only happened because of how juvenile I was at the game. Luckily, with the score being four to two, I only needed one more basket to win.
Dribbling the ball, I swerved to the left of River fast enough that he missed me. Now was my chance. I ran to the net with all the speed I could muster, but it wasn’t close enough for another layup. If I were recalling the basketball term correctly, I was shooting from the free-throw line, so I took a split second to aim my hands where the ball needed to go.
But River, being the genius he was, smacked the ball down the second it escaped my hands.
Now he had the ball, but I’d be damned if I let him score another point on me with his shoesliterallytied. River skillfully turned his back to me just before I lunged at him, and each time I tried to get around him, he pivoted with ease. It was almost as if he knew me so well he could predict every move I’d make.
If we were thirteen years old again, I’d fully believe that theory.
Nothing I did was working, and it was annoyingly impressive how quickly the guy adjusted to his new way of play. I was about ready to accept my defeat, but in a desperate heat of the moment, I leaped and attempted to smack the ball out of his grasp. It was a stupid idea considering River was six-foot-one, and I was a whopping five-foot-seven, leaving no logical way for me to jump over him successfully and knock the ball, but they say you miss one hundred percent of opportunities you never take.
The only thing I was successful in was flinging my arm over his shoulder and falling onto his back like he was giving me a piggyback ride. River, already off balance from his rigid stance, buckled under my weight.
Before we knew what was happening, we were crashing to the ground as the ball bounced away from us.
“Your elbow is in my eye,” River groaned, my body feeling the low vibrations of his voice as I lay atop him.
Panic ensued inside me. I rolled myself off him and onto the concrete, flustered for some inexplicable reason. “Sorry.”
I held my breath as I watched him sit up with his hand pressed tightly against his eye. I wasn’t sure if I had damaged that pretty face of his, and the possibility of it made me sick. It wasn’t until I saw the grin on his face that I let myself breathe. As a weary laugh escaped his lips, I chuckled in relief.
“What was the thought process?” he asked, his voice oddly soft.
“To not let you score,” I breathed.
“By jumping on my back?”
I snorted. “I wasn’t trying to do that. It was an accident.”
“Oh, so we weren’t supposed to end up on the ground with your elbow in my eye?”
I made a slight frown as I adjusted to sit on my hands and knees. “Is it okay, by the way?”
River shrugged, but the hand still holding his eye gave him away. “You didn’t hit it that hard.”
“Let me see.” I inched so close to him that my leg pressed against his. Only one more inch and I’d be sitting in his lap. I shook that thought away as I gently pulled his hand away to get a clear view.
“What’s the verdict?” River asked, tone unserious.
I brushed my thumb along his cheekbone, beneath his injured eye. “I didn’t hit you that hard. It might not even bruise.”
I could see all of him so clearly—the fine cut of his jawline, how his brown eyes brightened into an almost golden shade in the light, the way his eyes gazed into mine like he could feel the sparks flashing around us like a firework show.
Don’t be ridiculous, Alex.
