Chapter 10
“Please, Kaity,” I beg with my best pity eyes. “All you have to do is agree I was supposed to come to your place. That’s all.”
“I’m not doing that! You already told them you’re coming,” Kaitlynn refuses. “You got into this, you can get yourself out of it. Why don’t you just say you’re not feeling good?”
“Because…” I stop before saying that’s a lie. So is the rest. “Because this is easier.”
“Blaming me is easier?” She scowls.
Okay, yeah. It’s sort of low, but that way I can blame it on someone else, and it won’t just be me bowing out. It’s easier that way.
“Yeah.” I stretch out the word, hoping it’ll smooth it over.
Kaitlynn laughs. “Such a bitch.”
“Hey!” I scoff sarcastically. “I’ll owe you one.”
“Why do you not want to go so bad?” she asks. “Didn’t you say they live in, like, some big high-end modern house? They probably have a full basketball court. A gym! Theater! All of it.”
“So? I don’t play basketball,” I remind her. She knows that! A real-deal home theater sounds pretty dope though. “I watch.”
“There is that, but still.” She smirks. “You get to hang out at a mansion. With another hot dude!”
“It’s not a mansion, and no! We’re not talking about his brother.” I stop her.
“But he is hot. Didn’t you say he was?” she asks.
Ugh! Fine! Yes, I might have said that, but still, he interrogated me. “Not the point. I don’t want to play basketball with Zachary.”
She gives me the side-eye. “And why not? Why don’t you want to play with Zachary?”
“’Cause I don’t play basketball,” I say again.
“No, you said Zachary real suspicious-like.” She’s squinting. Too curious for her own good. “Why don’t you want to play specifically with Zachary?”
I huff and fall against the bar. “I think he knows.”
“Knows?” Kaitlynn squints.
“Yeah, knows knows.”
“Knows, like he knows you’re a liar?” she digs.
I roll my eyes. That’s not how I’d phrase it.
“That I’m not his brother’s enbyfriend.” I rephrase it for her. She makes me sound so bad.
“So, a liar.” Kaitlynn grins.
“Not my fault,” I say.
“Technicalities.”
* * *
“Welcome to the Marcus residence, we’ll be right with you,” a recording of Mary-Anne’s voice responds when I push the doorbell, and I immediately reach for my necklace.
My legs are crisscrossed as if I could twist around and make a run for it.
This is so awkward. I’m awkward. I hate waiting at doors.
I don’t even want to be here. I should be at home with Mom, well, I mean hanging out in my room playing Sims, dancing around my bed to Seventeen and XLOV, or watching one of my many BL dramas for the hundredth time.
Not standing here, waiting to play a sport I’d rather watch with a guy I essentially don’t know who thinks I’m sus anyway.
A latch clacks and the big door swings inward. It’s Mary-Anne. She’s smiling widely.
“You came!”
Did you not expect me to? I scoff at the doubt inside my head. I said I would. I didn’t want to, but I said I would. I’m not a li— Okay, maybe.
I shrug. “Of course.”
Sometimes I want to smack myself. Is it really that hard not to dig my hole deeper? By the time I’m done they’ll be able to drop me inside with a few others and still bury us six feet deep.
“Zachary’s out back already. Do you know where the court is?” Mrs. Marcus asks.
Do I know where the court is? Like basketball court? Was Kaity right? Do they seriously have a whole-ass basketball court?
“No, ma’am.” I shake my head.
“If you drive around back, you’ll…” She puts up a hand. “Actually, no. It’d be quicker to cut through here. Just follow me.”
I almost had an excuse to get in my car and make a run for it. I was this close! Instead, I nod and she invites me in.
“How was work?” Hayden’s mom asks, leading me through the kitchen to places I’ve not yet been. I wonder how big this place really is.
“It was fine,” I say. Not sure what else to say about it. It’s work.
She takes a left and we head down a set of steps.
We don’t have a basement at my house, or another level, whichever it is here, so this is cool.
This must be their game room. Foosball, billiards, table hockey, a dartboard.
There’s a round table on the other side surrounded by cushioned wooden chairs, and a sitting area off to the right.
“Is that girl you were working with a friend?” Mary-Anne takes a look behind her to smile.
“Yes, that’s Kaitlynn.” I brighten. “She’s been my best friend since, like…forever.”
“She seems nice,” Mary-Anne says, and opens the door at the back of the room.
Sunlight rushes in and coats my face. The sound of the ball smacking pavement reaches my ears, and I strain to adjust to the outside light again.
“Zachary,” Mary-Anne calls.
My eyes clear, and there he is. For a second I think I’m looking at Hayden, but the features are different.
They’re softer. The cut of his jaw is less pronounced, his arms might not be muscular, but those shoulders are perfect, and the eyes, gods.
They’re the same ashy gray as Hayden’s, but they’re bigger, more puppy-dog-like.
“Ye—” he starts, but his voice cuts off when he sees me. “Uh, hey.”
I raise my hand and wave.
“I asked Kenzie to come by and play basketball with you,” his mom says. “Thought you might like someone to play with.”
It sounds like we’re kindergarteners in need of a friend the way she says it, and she leaves out the part about it being because Hayden’s not here.
From the telltale look on his face, he didn’t know she asked me to come.
I’m not sure if it’s shock or anger in his eyes, but he tilts his head and looks off into the woods, lips skewed. Then his mouth opens, but he stops.
“Some company,” Mary-Anne suggests, like she’s trying to sell the idea to him.
“Uh-huh.” Zachary nods and throws me the ball. “Think fast.”
The ball smacks into my hip and I almost yelp the f-word as I bend over in shock. What the actual fuck?! I shoot my gaze at him, making it evil and kind all at the same time, eyes slit while I smile. I grunt and chase after the ball.
“Caught me off guard,” I say, and throw it back to him.
“I’ll leave you two to it,” Mary-Anne says, and leaves without delay before disappearing inside again.
Zachary catches the ball and just stands there.
He stares me down, eyes moving up and down my jeans and then my bare midriff.
I fight the urge to cover my stomach. Is he really sizing me up?
I can play basketball. I have. Like twice.
Maybe more, but it was all in elementary school when they made me. I know the rules though.
“You play basketball?” Zachary asks. “And dressed like that?”
Oh the derision in his voice. Like come on.
“Sort of,” I say.
“You’re dating my brother, the main point guard for Mitchell, and you ‘sort of’ play?” His brow skews.
“Yeah, well, I mean, I watch more than play,” I explain. “I go more for the scenery.”
Why did I say that? Now he’s going to think I’m checking him out.
“Ah.” Zachary grins. “The scenery can be good. That I understand.”
Hold up. Did he just agree? I was talking about the guys.
“You don’t play much either?” I ask, trying to forget it.
“I do. But it’s usually with Hayden.” His face grows somber.
“Sorry.” I bow my head and cough.
“It’s not your fault, unless you tripped him or something.” Zachary chuckles.
“Nah,” I laugh. “I’m too clumsy for that.”
Zachary laughs again and suddenly I’m smiling.
“So one-on-one?” He shrugs.
“Sure.” This is going to be so bad. I’m going to get floored.
He turns and bounces the ball a few times between here and the goal, stopping at the flat line under the round one. I don’t have a clue what they’re called, they’re just random shapes to me. I stop at the crest of the rounded line. I think I’m going first.
“Ready?” Zachary asks.
“Y-yeah,” I stutter, and suddenly the ball is rushing toward me. My reflexes kick in and leather smacks my palms instead of my face, thankfully. I clamp my fingers to the surface and… Nothing. Shit. What am I supposed to do?
“Uh…” Zachary frowns.
“Oh, right.”
I drop the ball and start dribbling down the court. My feet move to the right, but Zachary matches me, so I switch to the left and try to sprint forward. He reassesses and is on me in a second.
“Double dribble! You can’t do that. And again!” Zachary calls out. He stops and I take the opportunity to take a shot. It skims the white edge of the backboard and bounces off.
“Ah!” I grunt.
“Wouldn’t have counted anyway,” Zachary says. “You were double dribbling so much.”
He eyes me, confusion riddling his face.
“Sorry…” How the hell am I so unaware? I know what that is, but I never really play. I didn’t realize how hard it was not to do that.
“You sure you know how to play?” Zachary asks.
“Yeah, just been a while.” I shrug and then mutter under my breath. “A really long while.”
“’Kay, my ball,” he says, and throws me the ball while he gets into position at the head of the circle.
I huff, running all I can remember about basketball through my head. No double dribbling, obviously, no walking—aka running without dribbling at all—stay inside the white lines around the court, no pushing or holding, fouls are bad, I think. I’m pretty sure those are the main ones.
“Ready?” He nods, feet planted outside the circle.
“Yeah.” I nod and bounce him the ball.
I might not be good at sports, but I’m small, so I’m quick and I can be agile when I need to be. He lurches forward and I throw my hands out to swat at the ball. He diverts with ease and twists around me before smoking me for a successful shot.
“Score one for me!” Zachary hoots and does a quick shoulder shimmy dance.
I’m not sure if it’s more amusing, adorable, or cringe.
So I smile and shake my head. He motions for me to get in place again and we go back and forth like this for a few rounds.
Mainly it’s me shooting and missing spectacularly or breaking the rules.
He really doesn’t like it when I grab his arms to keep him from shooting.