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God.
There it is.
That spark.
Alive.
Untamed.
I hand her the ball.
Our fingers brush.
Brief.
Electric.
It’s like sticking a finger in a socket all over again.
She feels it too.
I see it in the micro-flinch.
But she doesn’t look away.
Coach whistles again.
“Cortez! Focus!”
She steps back.
I watch her jog back into position.
She tosses.
Jumps.
Cracks the ball into the floor like she’s issuing a challenge.
Coach Canely steps beside me.
“You know her?” he asks casually.
I don’t take my eyes off her.
“Yeah.”
He studies my expression.
“Problem?”
I smile faintly.
“Not for me.”
Coach laughs.
“We’re meeting Haverhill in five.”
