“Thank you.” I sighed, not ready to give up the attention.
But I totally understood.
“Anytime.”
He walked toward the door, his T-shirt still dangling out of his back pocket, and then he turned to close the door.
“Oh, and the gift is from Aydin,” he said, pointing to the floor next to the tub.
I peered over the edge, finding an old, rectangular wooden case and picked it up, opening the rusted clasp. Flipping the lid, I saw mechanical pencils, a French curve, a T-square, an eraser, a compass…
I darted my gaze to Micah. These were drawing tools.
“You can walk freely about the house,” he told me. “No one is to touch you, Aydin says.” And then he smiled, adding, “Unless you invite us to.”
He closed the door, Rory’s laugh echoing down the hall.
Emory
Nine Years Ago
Five-hundred pairs of feet stomped the bleachers, cheering their respective teams, and I watched Will shoot another two-pointer from the top of the key.
Howls filled the air as the ball fell through the net, and we raised our instruments, playing a few notes to celebrate the moment.
Elle’s arm pressed into mine, and I shifted to keep my balance. The whole place was packed, and I looked across the court to Morrow Sands’s cheer section, seeing it filled with a lot more girls than guys.
It was funny how good-looking basketball players could suddenly spark an interest in just about anything for teenage girls. Everyone was a basketball fan now.
The center passed the ball to Michael Crist, and he dribbled it, running the rest of the way down the court, passing it to Damon Torrance.
Damon caught it and bounced it up and down on the floor, two girls waving to him to where he stood in the wing. He shot the ball, and it bounced off the rim, spilling over.
Will caught it, jumped up, and dunked it, the buzzer blaring through the auditorium as it fell through.
I smiled, catching sight of his grin.
Everyone was a basketball fan now.
Cheers filled the room, and I glanced at the scoreboard.
59-65, Thunder Bay.
A close call.
The coaches and players on the bench swarmed the floor, and I lifted my flute as everyone else raised their instruments. We belted out the school song, all the attendees on our side singing along.
I watched Will, smiling as he hung onto his friends as the auditorium echoed with noise, chatter, and music, celebrating the win.
Not that I cared. I barely ever paid attention, only knowing it was my moment when the others around me stood up or readied their instruments.
Will pulled off his shirt, sweat glistening on his back and darkening his chocolate hair as he swung the shirt over his shoulder and nodded to whatever some guy from the opposing team was saying to him. I let my eyes trail down his spine.
I paid attention to the game tonight, though. He was good.
And he was fun to watch.
I followed the rest of the band off the bleachers as everyone started to clear the gym, and we made our way into a spare room to put our instruments away.