Best Friends Forever - Page 52

He twists around to look at the basketball court behind him, shrugging.

“We are really not supposed to do that, I don’t think,” he shakes his head.

“Those other kids are doing it,” I answer. “And you can’t get in trouble if you’re with an adult. That’s the law. Come on!”

Obediently he sets his bookbag against the edge of the bench and follows me into the court. There’s a rack of balls on one side, leftover from PE class. I take one and bounce it against the asphalt a few times, instantly transported to gym class in my mind. Muscle memory takes over and I take a few steps back, then forward with an easy layup.

“Did you know I went to this middle school too?” I smile as he retrieves the ball and squares off for an easy shot as a confidence builder, just like I told him.

“You did? How long ago was that?”

“Jeez, kid,” I drawl. “Cut to the heart of the matter, why don’t you? Well, it was… A really long time ago.”

I start to do the mental math, then quickly abort that mission. How did I get so old?

He lines up behind the three-point line, then flips around so he can loft the ball backward over his head. To my absolute shock, he makes it in.

“So, the school must be like a hundred years old?”

I try to line up the same way, but as soon as I release the basketball I can feel it’s not going to make it. It ricochets off the edge of the backboard and clangs against the fence.

“Ha!” he declares with a triumphant fist pump.

A stray basketball bounces across our court from the one adjoining. I catch it in one hand and chuck it back over the fencing to the other group of boys playing two on two.

“No, I don’t think the school is a hundred years old,” I sniff, trying a left-hand layup this time, which I make, but barely.

I don’t want to demolish him, but I also don’t want to lose. I need to be in that narrow path of “just out of reach but not discouragingly far ahead.”

Still, after all the games we have been playing in the backyard, he has dev

eloped some skills. Maybe he is in the middle of a growth spurt or something. He really seems interested in acquiring some sports skill, and it is nice to have someone to match with. It’s also nice the way he listens when I coach him.

“Hey!” a voice calls out. “Ethan, right?”

Another kid hangs on the fence, squinting through at us.

“Yeah?” Ethan calls back defensively.

“Joey and Trevor had to go home. Do you guys want to take their places?”

Ethan turns to me, alarmed.

“What do I say?” he whispers urgently, pivoting so the other kid can’t read his lips or anything.

“If you want to play, then we say yes?” I shrug.

“Just say yes? And then go over there and play?”

“Yeah, man,” I smile encouragingly, dropping a hand onto his bony shoulder. “No big deal, we just go over there and kick their asses.”

Has this kid never played in a pickup game before? I don’t know, but what I do know is that I haven’t done it in a really long time. It feels kind of strange to be playing with people who are all six inches shorter than me or more, but also kind of awesome. I’m like a giant. My skills are unmatched! They may have stamina, but I’ve got experience and I can touch the backboard just by reaching up.

What. Don’t judge me.

We play for a while, keeping score by shouting it out, ignoring fouls but basically keeping to civil playground play. I resist the urge to unleash, but just barely.

When he isn’t looking, I watch Ethan move around the court with more confidence than I am used to seeing. He is enjoying himself, which is making me enjoy myself even more.

Tags: Jess Bentley Romance
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