“Esteban, you’ve got thirty seconds to get the hell out of here,” she yells. “You’re not welcome here!”
I don’t hear Lewis sneak up behind me, reaching around me to pull back the lock and yank the door open. Raven is standing there staring at us, and I don’t know who’s more surprised. He leans over to turn the sound down.
“Hey, Raven. Sorry I didn’t use the front door—you said to let you know when I’d be coming by, but I thought you’d be asleep.”
She blinks and takes a step back, trying to make sense of it all.
“How’s Joey?” Lewis continues.
“He’s… great.”
Her dark eyes flash from Lewis to me and back again, before coming to rest on mine, her lips pinched like she’s desperately tryingto hold back the words. She’s doing a great job, but I already know I’ll be getting a tongue-lashing later.
“His room is just next door, so keep it down, will you?”
“I promise.” Lewis nods.
He stifles a laugh as he shuts the door, and I whip around to face him.
“You really are the biggest kiss-ass.”
“She’s obsessed with me.”
“That’s what you think—I can guarantee she’s out there slashing your tires.”
I know that’s not true, though. The truth is, Raven seems to genuinely really like him. He definitely knows how to hit the Hitman sweet spot.
I climb back onto the bed and hand Lewis a spoon, and we dig into Raven’s pecan and vanilla ice cream.Sorry, sis.
“How was the game?” I ask.
He stabs at the tub with his spoon, and I flinch.
“Jeez—what’d the ice cream do to you?”
“We lost,” he says curtly.
He doesn’t need to say more. I get how he must be feeling. Of course I’m sad for him, but I’m even sadder for myself—Lewis only came over to work off his disappointment, then.
I’m just about to move us onto something a little lighter when he clears his throat.
“That was one of the games that wereallycouldn’t afford to lose.”
“I thought you needed to win them all…”
“There were scouts there tonight.”
I frown. “Scouts?”
I’m picturing a bunch of kids with neckerchiefs and flags, trying to get the team to buy cookies.
“The NBA recruiters.”
“Is it really such a big deal, though? I mean, even the best teams lose, every now and then.”
He swallows hard. “I just don’t like it. I’ve spent the past three years working my ass off to get the best possible stats, and now it looks like they’re going to drop within the last six months before the draft.”
I think for a moment. “You put yourself under so much pressure—I’m surprised it doesn’t suck all the joy out of playing.”
