“I went to see Uncle Theo.” I clear my throat and back away. Distance helps.
Chris looks surprised, like that wasn’t the answer he was expecting. “How is he?” he asks, passing me the ball.
“Good.” My mind drifts back to my uncle’s flirtation with the handsome nurse, and Chris takes advantage of my distraction to score on me.
“You letting me win, Wooten?”
“No,” I protest and steal the ball back and score on the next round.
“I hate it when you and Tabs fight,” Chris says. He must be thinking about earlier that afternoon. Maybe because he doesn’t have any siblings, Chris is super sensitive to any conflict between us. Usually our fights are pretty superficial, bickering more so than fighting, but that one in Chris’s kitchen kind of cut to the bone.
“Yeah, me too,” I tell him.
“She felt bad after, if that makes it any better.”
“A little bit.” I wonder if I should say something to her or just let it ride.
“She didn’t mean it,” Chris says.
“Yeah, she did, but that’s all right. I’m sure Tabs would like for me to be more like you.”
“How’s that?” Chris asks, perplexed.
“You know, friendly, outgoing, popular. Whatever it is you do to get you in the cool club.”
“I’m in the cool club?” Chris asks.
I roll my eyes at his presumed ignorance. “Obviously.”
“Then you must be in it too.”
I shake my head. “I’m on the fringe. They only put up with me for your sake.”
Chris squints at me. “You really believe that?”
“Um, yeah.”
I take advantage of his thoughtful expression to steal the ball and score on him. We play like that for a while. I become increasingly aware of Chris’s body when he happens to brush up against me while trying to get the ball or make a run. The slick swish of skin against skin and the heat that radiates off him like a furnace, prickling the hairs on the back of my neck and sending a shiver down my spine. The smell of his sweat and the way it beads up on all that exposed honey brown skin like water droplets on a waxed car.
I’m about to go for a three-pointer when Chris bats the ball out of my hands. We both go running for it and end up getting tripped up on each other’s ankles. I land on the concrete and Chris lands in the grass. My shoulder burns like I just ate it in skateboarding.
“Shit, T, sorry about that.” Chris lends me his hand and pulls me up. He turns me around to check out my raspberry and brush off whatever dirt and bits of gravel are stuck in it. Meanwhile, a car rolls up to the curb. The passenger window goes down, and I see Dave in the driver’s seat. I’m mildly irritated that he keeps coming by here unannounced. He slows to a stop in front of Chris’s driveway. I jog toward his car and lean into the passenger side, hoping I can get him to move along before shit gets weird.
“Hey, Theo,” Dave says with a smile that seems way forced.
“’Sup, Dave?”
Dave makes a point of looking over my shoulder to leer at Chris. “You need a third to make this a roast beef sandwich?”
I glance back at Chris, who’s gripping the basketball with Herculean strength, the tendons in his wrists standing out, biceps bulging, face stormy and scowling.
“Probably not a good idea.”
Dave shakes his head. “How can I even compete with that?”
I sigh, feeling guilty and confused and sorry for Dave in that he wants more than I can give him, and I, of all people, should know how shitty that feels.
“Listen, Dave.” I run my hand through my hair, remembering when he cut it for me and taught me to shave, and then, how to give a proper blowjob. That was nice of him, and I hope after all this we can still be friends, because I do like hanging out with him. “You were right. My heart’s just not in it. I don’t want to play games or lead you on.”
