Long Shot (Hoops 1)

“Not this big brother stuff again.”

“I haven’t been much of one.” His smile fades. “A brother, I mean.”

Instead of answering, I wait for him to go on.

He shakes his head. “It’s so hard to know what to trust when it comes to them, to our parents.”

“You can trust me to be who I say I am, Rhyson. Your sister.” I tilt my chin and flash him some confidence in the form of a smile. “You’ll see that when I’m managing that career for you.”

“I don’t have a career.” He laughs and leans back on the bed, propped on his elbows.

“But you will. You should. And when you do, I’ll be right there to help you.”

“You can’t build plans around something that hasn’t happened yet.”

“Idiot, what do you think dreams are if not plans we make based on things that haven’t happened yet?”

We laugh a little, and I lie back beside him, resting my head on his shoulder. What I wouldn’t have given years ago to have my brother like this. To have time with him when he wasn’t rehearsing or touring or doing whatever was required of him.

“Don’t you have any dreams of your own?” he asks.

Grip’s face, his soft touches and promises in the dark waters last night, come to mind. I want to believe him because those kisses on the Ferris wheel, in the fun house, in the ocean were the best of my life. The conversations we’ve had this week changed me. No controversy, no memory, no hope or fear was off limits. They have woven themselves—he has woven himself—into the fabric of my dreams so quickly it frightens me.

“I do have dreams,” I finally answer. “And they’re all here now.”

He smiles at me slowly and nods.

“We better get going.” Rhyson glances at his watch, and it makes me think of the cheap watch I won for Grip last night. I shake off memories of the carnival as Rhyson rolls the Louis bag out of my room and down the hall.

“It’s a shame I didn’t get to see Uncle Grady this trip.”

“Next time,” Rhyson says. “But there are some people who want to tell you goodbye.”

When we enter the living room, my new friends are all there. Jimmi, Luke, Mandi, and standing at the back of the group is Grip, his eyes a beautifully laid trap I stumble into and can’t wriggle free of.

“Oh, you guys.” I wrap my arms around Jimmi, who squeezes me so tightly I can barely breathe.

“I feel like I found a new bestie.” Jimmi blinks tears from her big blue eyes. “We have to talk every week, and you have to come back soon. And I can come to New York, too.”

“Deal.” I smile through a few tears of my own. “We’ll stay in touch. Don’t worry.”

I haven’t spent as much time with Luke and Mandi, but it’s still sweet of them to show up to say goodbye to me. They’re both cool, and Rhyson is lucky to have this tight-knit circle of people in his life. I don’t really have anything like them in New York, and it makes me want to wish away the next two years at Columbia so I can move here right away.

And then there’s Grip.

We take a few careful steps toward each other, and I feel like everyone’s watching us.

“Thank you for everything,” I say softly, leaving a few inches between us. His eyes burn a mute plea for more.

“No problem. Sure.”

He glances down at the floor before slipping his arms around my waist and dragging me against his warm, hard body. Not caring what Rhyson or anyone else thinks, I tip up on my toes and hook my elbows behind his neck as tightly as I can. His hands spread over my back, fitting my curves to all his ridges and planes.

“You come back to me, okay?” he whispers in my ear. “Slow doesn’t mean stop, right?”

My cheeks fire up, and I glance self-consciously at the others, but they aren’t paying attention. Rhyson is rolling my suitcase out to the car, and Mandi, Luke, and Jimmi are talking about last night at the beach swimming nude. Or semi-nude. Jimmi was the only one brave/crazy enough to be fully naked.

“No, slow doesn’t mean stop,” I agree. “In fact—”