Dare You to Date the Point Guard (Rock Valley High 2)

He winced dramatically and rubbed a hand across his head. “Has anybody ever told you that your basketball references are extremely dated? When’s the last time you caught a game?”

I shrugged. “ESPN isn’t exactly on at our house very often. I think the last time we watched it was for the Olympics. And that was probably for ice skating.”

As he threw his chin up and stared at the ceiling in dismay, I covered my mouth in a fit of giggles. It was fun to tease Mason. Sometimes, I imagined that I was putting kinks in that armor he always wore around him. One day, I’d wear him down.

“Here, you can’t be that bad.” Mason tossed the basketball to me and pointed at the hoop. “Let me see what you’ve got.”

I’d never had an occasion to be sad about my lack of athletic skills. It’d been clear from an early age that I excelled in other areas, namely art and academics. Still, when I tossed aside my bag and aimed the ball at the hoop, regret flushed through me. I couldn’t even muster up an ounce of athletic talent. My pathetic attempt at a two-pointer missed the goal by about two feet and landed with a dull thud on the wooden gymnasium floor.

“Are you serious?” Mason’s eyes flashed with amusement as he snatched the ball off the ground and walked toward me. “Was that it?”

I couldn’t help but make a pouty face. “I warned you. When it comes to anything remotely physical, I’m hopeless.”

He stopped in front of me, his jaw twitching with the hint of a smile. “I don’t accept that. And I especially don’t accept that from a girl who can come back from welding in a lacy white dress and still look like...like that.”

His eyes trailed up and down my body and suddenly a warm flush ran over me. Yes, I was wearing a lacy dress. My mom had bought it for me this Christmas. But it was paired with a sensible and comfy set of leggings that protected against any wayward sparks. Plus, I’d been careful to wear the protective gear while welding. It wasn’t magic that kept me looking nice.

“Fine.” I snatched the ball out of his hand. His eyes twinkled in response, but he didn’t try to stop me. “I’ll shoot again.”

My second attempt was no better than the first. With a thud, the ball hit the floor and rolled off. Mason ran to fetch it. I stood with my arms wrapped about my waist, knowing once and for all that I was hopeless.

“Okay, so that was pathetic.” Mason tucked the ball under his arm and regarded me with a cocky expression. “Forget Shaq. I’m pretty sure my four-year-old neighbor could beat you.”

“Told you. I’ve got the arm strength of a toddler and the jump shot of a sea cucumber.”

A ridiculous expression crossed Mason’s face for a mere second, and then the most unexpected, wondrous thing happened. Raucous laughter burst from his lips like water spouting up from Old Faithful. He grasped his abdomen for air and his face turned beet red. I stood there, shocked, wondering if I should be recording this miracle with my phone.

Never in my life had I expected to see Mason Finnick full out laughing. And smiling. It was a good look on him. One that made my heart warm.

“You are the most random person I’ve ever met,” he finally managed to say between gasping breaths

for air. His face was still red, but it had downgraded to more of a tomato red. “I never know what to expect. The jump shot of a sea cucumber...?” He chuckled again. “I can’t even breathe.”

I grinned. It was nice to feel like I could still surprise people. Lately, between my studies and school projects, I’d begun to feel like a skipping record.

“You know...you’ve got a fantastic smile. You should do that more often.”

It was true. Until now, I’d never noticed how straight and white his teeth were. His mom must’ve shelled out a few thousand bucks to perfect that smile.

His eyes shone with mischief as he tried and failed to frown. “No, no, no, I can’t have people thinking I’m human. You can’t be intimidating on the court if you’re smiling all the time. I need my enemies to fear me.”

It was my turn to laugh. Mason had definitely fully embraced the intimidating persona. It brought back memories of him breaking up the fight between those two kids. At least he put his scary image to good use, both on the court and off. Still, I’d trade a little bit of that for more of his laughs. It was an amazing sound.

“All right, back to business,” Mason said, snapping his fingers. He took one, last deep breath and set his shoulders. “We’ve got to fix this. You’re going to make at least one shot before I’m through with you.”

“But I can’t. I told you, I’m hopeless.”

“You can...if I show you how.”

Before I knew what was happening, Mason had stepped behind me and wrapped his arms around mine, placing the ball in my hands. An unbidden thrill went down my spine. He was close. Closer than he’d ever been before. My head screamed at me, telling me this was wrong in so many ways, but my heart fluttered in disobedience. And as he adjusted my grip on the ball, I couldn’t help but appreciate the salty scent of his skin and the heat of his chest pressed up against my back.

“See, you make a T with your thumbs,” he said in a smooth, low voice. His breath was warm on the side of my neck and I had to fight off the shivers that it induced or else I was in danger of becoming a pool of jelly right there on the gymnasium floor. “Spread your fingers as wide as they can go. Then, bend your elbows and use the momentum of your entire body to shoot.”

Nothing he said made sense to me. It could’ve been my utter lack of athletic training, or the fact that I was having trouble thinking straight with his arms wrapped around me. Either way, my heart rate had skyrocketed and I was starting to worry that the sound of blood rushing through my ears was loud enough for even him to hear.

“So, I’m supposed to shoot?” My voice sounded dangerously weak. “I don’t think I can do it.”

“Don’t overthink it.” Another thrill ran down my back as his breath tickled my neck. “Nothing good ever comes out of overthinking it.”