Chapter 19 #2
“We established that sleepovers require clarification.”
“I kissed you in front of your entire apartment.”
“You kiss me a lot.”
“I made you waffles.”
“Strongest evidence so far.”
She laughs.
I pull her toward me.
“Say it again.”
“No.”
“Hannah.”
Her smile grows.
“I’m dating Kane Haverhill.”
My chest feels too small.
I don't care that everybody is watching.
For once, I don't care who knows.
I cup the back of her neck and kiss her.
Not long.
Not enough.
Just enough to taste the smile still on her mouth.
The room erupts behind us.
Someone whistles.
Someone else pounds on the counter.
Vale calls out, “Locked down!”
Hannah pulls away.
“Don’t encourage him.”
I rest my forehead against hers.
“You sure?”
She knows what I’m asking.
Not about us.
The post.
The attention.
Being seen.
Her fingers tighten in my shirt.
“Yes.”
Then she looks over my shoulder.
“Can we eat now?”
Vale immediately steps forward.
“Thank you.”
I block him with one arm.
“You're last.”
“What?”
“You posted without permission.”
“Hannah forgave me.”
“I didn’t say that,” she says.
Vale turns.
“You didn't?”
“I said leave the post.”
“That feels adjacent to forgiveness.”
“No waffles for you,” I tell him.
His face falls.
“Hannah.”
She folds her arms.
“My man gets first plate.”
The room erupts again.
I grin at Vale.
He points at me.
“I still have better dimples.”
“Eat last.”
I take my waffles.
Hannah reaches for the next plate.
And for the first time since I've known her, there is a picture of us somewhere online and she isn't running from it.
Neither am I.
* * *
Vale makes it through half a waffle before Hannah ruins his morning.
Not intentionally.
Which somehow makes it better.
He’s leaning against the counter, eating like a man who didn’t arrive uninvited and nearly get banned from breakfast, when Hannah watches him reach across the island for the syrup.
Her head tilts.
I know that look.
I’ve seen it across a seminar table.
From the stands.
In a film room.
Someone is about to learn something they didn’t ask to know.
Vale catches her staring.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
I almost laugh.
Vale points his fork at her.
“No. Haverhill makes that exact face now whenever he sees something wrong with my game. You taught him that.”
“I did not teach him a face.”
“You made a face.”
“I have a face.”
My head snaps toward her.
She catches me looking.
“What?”
“That was my line.”
“You’ve said several useful things. Statistically, one was bound to stick.”
Noah snorts into his coffee.
Vale puts down his plate.
“What did you see?”
Hannah bites the inside of her cheek.
“Nothing.”
“Hannah.”
She looks at me.
I shake my head.
“Don’t fight it. He won’t leave you alone now.”
Vale pulls out the chair across from her.
“What?”
She sighs.
“Your second jump on offensive rebounds.”
He blinks.
“My what?”
“You’re leaving points on the floor.”
Every conversation in the kitchen stops.
Vale slowly lowers his fork.
“I’m averaging almost eleven boards.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t rebounding.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“You admire your first attempt.”
Noah makes a choking sound.
Vale turns toward him.
“What does that mean?”
Hannah answers before he can.
“When you miss the put-back, you watch it.”
“I do not.”
“You do.”
“No.”
“You want film?”
Vale looks insulted.
“I know my own game.”
“So does Kane.”
I grin into my coffee.
“Careful, Vale.”
Hannah sets down her fork.
“You get excellent position. Your first jump is explosive. But if the ball doesn’t fall where you expect, you land too upright and spend half a second tracking it instead of loading again.”
Vale’s expression changes.
Barely.
Interested now.
“You think I’m slow on the second jump?”
“I think you could be faster.”
Eli pulls out the chair beside him.
“Wait.”
No.
Absolutely not.
I know where this is going.
Hannah continues.
“You also bring the ball down too often after offensive rebounds when there’s a guard digging from the strong side.”
Vale stares at her.
Noah looks at Vale.
Then Hannah.
Then me.
“Is she right?”
Vale ignores him.
“How many games have you watched?”
Hannah takes another bite of waffle.
“Enough.”
“That’s her answer for everything,” I say.
Vale reaches for his phone.
“Show me.”
I close my eyes.
There goes the date-a-thon.
Within seven minutes, Hannah has five Stanford basketball players surrounding the kitchen table.
By ten minutes, someone has moved breakfast.
By twelve, the table itself is gone.
Jalen shoves it against the far wall while Eli connects his laptop to the television.
Noah appears from his bedroom carrying one of those foam silent basketballs people buy when they want to annoy everyone indoors without technically making noise.
I stare at him.
“Why do you own that?”
“My mother bought it for Christmas.”
“You’re twenty.”
“She believes in hobbies.”
Hannah catches the ball when he tosses it.
Immediately starts bouncing it.
Nearly silent.
Her eyes light.
“This is incredible.”
“Focus,” I tell her.
She looks at me.
“You're the one who let basketball players into your home.”
“They live here.”
“Technicality.”
Vale already has game film running.
“Hannah.”
She turns.
And there she goes.
Completely.
My girlfriend disappears.
Coach Goodwin arrives.
“Pause it.”
Eli pauses.
“Back three seconds.”
He rewinds.
“There.”
She points toward Vale on-screen crashing from the weak side.
“Watch your feet when you land.”
Vale leans forward.
“I’m boxed out.”
“No. You beat the box-out.”
She advances one frame.
“You win here.”
Another frame.
“You still win here.”
Then the ball hits the rim.
Vale lands.
Hannah freezes it.
“And here you stop playing.”
Nobody talks.
She moves the film forward.
Vale looks up.
Ball comes off high.
Defender gets the second touch.
His jaw tightens.
“Run it again.”
They do.
Same result.
Vale looks at me.
“Did you know about this?”
“No.”
His gaze returns to Hannah.
She points at the screen.
“Stop admiring your work.”
“I wasn’t admiring anything.”
“You were mentally complaining that you should have gotten the foul.”
Vale turns slowly.
“How do you know that?”
Hannah shrugs.
“Your face.”
Noah loses it.
“Bro.”
Vale ignores him.
Hannah rolls the silent ball between her palms.
“You’re emotional when you think you’ve earned something and don’t get it.”
Vale glances toward me.
“Haverhill too?”
“Worse.”
“Hey.”
She looks at me.
“You made me prove it with twelve clips.”
“Eleven.”
“Twelve.”
“I remember eleven.”
“You were in all twelve. I remember because I suffered.”
Vale grins.
“I like her.”
“Get in line.”
Eli raises his hand.
“I’m already there.”
I glare at him.
He lowers it.
Temporarily.
Hannah stands.
“Show me your rebound.”
Vale actually obeys.
This is unreal.
One of the highest-profile transfers in college basketball moves into the middle of our living room because a five-foot-three archaeology major in flannel pajama pants told him to.
Noah tosses him the silent ball.
Vale catches it off an imaginary rebound.
“Again,” Hannah says.
He does.
She points at his feet.
“There.”
“What?”
“You land tall.”
“I’m six-four.”
“That isn’t what tall means.”
I bite my lip.
Vale looks offended.
She demonstrates.
Knees bent.
Weight loaded.
Feet beneath her.
“Land ready to leave again. Your second jump should already be starting before everyone else realizes there’s another rebound available.”
Vale copies her.
“Better.”
Again.
“Better.”
Again.
“Now don’t bring it down.”
He keeps the ball high.
“Turn.”
He pivots.
“Good.”
Noah raises both hands.
“My turn.”
I groan.
“No.”
Hannah looks toward him.
“What?”
“What am I doing wrong?”
“Plenty.”
The room explodes.
Noah presses one hand to his chest.
“That hurt.”
“You asked.”
“Start with the least emotionally damaging.”
Hannah considers him.
“Your closeouts.”
His smile disappears.
“What about them?”
“You cheat.”
“I do not cheat.”
“You open your hips before the shooter decides.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
She points at Eli.
“Drive at him.”
Eli is already moving.
Noah closes out.
Eli gives one shoulder fake.
Noah’s right hip opens.
Eli blows past him.
Hannah looks at Noah.
He looks betrayed.
“That was one time.”
“Again.”
They do it again.
Same thing.
Noah looks at me.
“You knew?”
“I’m having a wonderful morning.”
Hannah crosses her arms.
“Stop deciding where the offensive player wants to go before he tells you.”
Eli starts laughing.
“She says that to the thirteen-year-olds.”
Hannah points at him.
“And you're reaching on switches.”
Eli’s laughter dies instantly.
I sit back against the counter.
This might be the greatest breakfast of my life.
Twenty minutes later, there is an actual line.
An actual line.
Jalen stands behind Noah.
Two other guys have wandered in after hearing what’s happening.
Vale is sitting on the arm of the couch watching film on his phone.
Eli has the silent ball.
Everyone wants something.
“Hannah, what about my release?”
“Do I drift on corner threes?”
“Why do I keep getting beat backdoor?”
“Do you think my handle gets too high in transition?”
“Did you watch the Arizona game?”
“Hannah.”
“Coach Hannah.”
“Bookworm.”
I finally step between them.
“Enough.”
Six men look at me like I interrupted Christmas.
Hannah looks amused.
“What?”
I point around the room.
“You're lined up like this is Disney World and she’s the ride.”
Silence.
Noah’s eyebrows shoot up.
I hear my own sentence.
“That came out wrong.”
The entire room detonates.
Hannah covers her face.
Vale nearly falls off the couch.
Eli bends over at the waist.
“That is not what I meant.”
Noah can barely breathe.
“Bookworm: the ride.”
“I will throw all of you out.”
“You live with half of us.”
“I’ll figure it out.”
Hannah lowers her hands.
Her cheeks are pink from laughing.
“Kane.”
“No.”
I point at the idiots surrounding her.
“She has had enough.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’ve been answering questions for forty-five minutes.”
“I like it.”
“I know.”
That’s the problem.
I look at everyone else.
“You're destroying my date-a-thon.”
Vale straightens.
“Date-a-thon?”
Noah answers.
“All-weekend first date.”
Vale looks at me.
“You named it that?”
“She did.”
His eyes shift to Hannah.
“I like you even more now.”
I move between them.
“Stop liking my girlfriend.”