Chapter 30
Ariana
Shoes squeaking on the polished floor of the basketball court, I look around the empty room as I enter. Evan, having held the door open, swoops in after me. His footsteps echo as he leisurely strolls next to me.
“I can’t believe we’re the only ones here.”
The alpha is at ease, spinning a ball on his finger. “Yeah, well. It’s early in the morning. Everyone’s at work or school.”
Acutely aware of him grinning down on me, it strikes me as oddly intimate being the only ones in the vast room.
“Ever played before?”
“Not since high school gym class.” More than ten years ago. I bite my lip worriedly. “I need you to know I am completely unathletic. Don’t expect too much.”
He smiles reassuringly. “We’ll start with the basics. Here.”
Illustrating my point promptly, despite the gentle way he tosses the basketball towards me, I almost miss catching it. My hands fumble with it embarrassingly, barely avoiding dropping it.
“I’m doomed. I can’t even hold it properly.” Mentally, I prepare to disappoint him.
Evan’s eyebrows raise. “You’re not doomed. We’re playing for fun, not life or death. Did you want to do something else?”
“It’s not that.” My fingers spin the ball, feeling the textured rubber as I try to think of the words. “I just don’t want you to waste your time trying to help a hopeless case.”
“Ariana. Look at me.” Lifting my eyes from the painted lines on the floor, Evan’s focused on me.
“Time spent with you is always time well spent. Don’t worry about me, just try to have fun.
You can’t expect to be perfect at everything right away.
Cooking, sports, these things take practice, you know. ”
His words settle into my chest heavily. Chasing perfection is all I’ve spent the last ten years doing.
“Okay,” exhaling, I agree. “What’s first, coach?”
“Ten laps.” The blond laughs at my horrified expression. “Just kidding. Let’s start with holding the ball.”
Strolling to the side of the court, he grabs another ball and leads me over to a hoop. “First, one hand right on top of the basketball. Then rotate it back just a little.” Leaning the basketball towards me, he demonstrates.
“Like this?” I hold my hands up for him to see.
Evan walks next to me, inspecting my grip. “Not quite. Your wrist shouldn’t be so strained.” Setting his ball to the side, he moves my hands for me. “And here, spread your fingers out a bit more.” I catch a whiff of his scent, the aloe smooth with patience. “There we go, just like that. Good job.”
He did all the work, but he praises me like he’s genuinely impressed. Moving behind me, his chest warms my back.
Sliding his touch over to my other hand, he places that one on the side of the ball. Breath tickling my ear, he explains. “This is your guiding hand. Make sure it’s not too low, right on the middle of the side. Just like that. You see that square on the back of the board?”
“Yeah,” my voice comes out breathily, but he doesn’t comment on it.
“That’s where you want to aim for. Bend your knees a little for me?” When I do, his hands move to my hips, adjusting my stance. My grip falters on the ball at the touch. “That’s it. Push up from your legs, extend your arms, and flick your wrist at the end.”
His hands replant on top of mine, their touch firm on me and the ball. Now that we’re not cooking, I can see his fingers better. They splay out on top of mine, long and holding the ball with practiced confidence.
He guides me to push the ball upwards. “Put your legs into it too. A little stronger. Good girl.” From his spot behind me, I hope he can’t see the heat I can feel creeping up my neck. My omega instincts perk up at the praise, like a dog moving its ears hearing the word walk.
Evan continues demonstrating with his arms around me. He ushers me through the movement without releasing the ball. On the third time, he lets go and steps back.
“Got it?”
Not feeling very optimistic, I nod regardless. I might’ve grasped the concept, but I have no faith in my execution.
“Okay, great! Go ahead and try it.”
Taking a deep breath, I focus on the square and feebly shoot. The ball arcs through the air and doesn’t even make it close to the hoop, bouncing away pathetically.
“Nice!” Evan jogs after it with an athletic grace I don’t have high hopes of imitating. “That was really good for a first attempt. Don’t forget to flick your wrist at the end.”
He’s behind me again, adjusting my grip with light touches. My second attempt isn’t much better, making me flush with embarrassment. Evan corrects me again gently. The third try manages to bounce off the rim, earning me more encouragement.
His touches are respectful, but his breath against my ear, the patient and calm way he teaches and warmth of his hands on me feel intimate.
The fifth throw manages to swish into the net.
Letting out a surprised laugh, I turn to Evan, making sure he saw. “I did it!”
“You did!” He holds his hand up for a high five. A sharp crack echoes through the indoor court as our palms meet. Before I register what’s happening, his hands are lifting me and spinning me around the room excitedly.
Letting out a squeal, my hands fasten onto his shoulders for balance. When he sets me down, we’re both laughing. His hands rest on my waist as he grins down at me.
“And you were worried you’d be a hopeless case. You’re a natural!”
Maybe spending my entire childhood running around has paid off. Or, more likely, “I had a good teacher.”
“It’s a possibility.” Evan’s staring at me unabashedly. He’s not laughing anymore, but the corners of his mouth are still raised softly.
“What?” I ask at his uncharacteristic silence.
“You’re smiling.” He pauses after the observation, then continues like he realizes it would be weird not to elaborate. “I don’t know, sorry. We just ran into you looking sad so many times. It’s nice to see you smile. You look really pretty doing it.”
I can feel my cheeks reddening, and not from the exercise. Evan averts his gaze unexpectedly shyly, making him look younger. The baby blue of his hoodie brings out his eyes, turning them bluer, like looking at a clear ocean. One of his thumbs brushes back and forth against my waist delicately.
“Well,” I pause, contemplating his words. “I don’t know when I stopped smiling as much.” I have an idea, a memory of a certain Sunday. I raise a hand up against his chest, making him glance down at me again. “They come easily when I’m around you, though.”
Then we’re both looking anywhere but at each other. I feel as timid as he seemed a moment ago. Neither of us speaks. I try to will my cheeks into burning less, worried I’ll start resembling a tomato soon.
Searching for a way to change the subject, my eyes land on the forgotten basketball. “I know I had a good teacher, but where’d you learn to play, Evan?”
I didn’t have to say his name. We’re the only ones in the room, there’s no one else I could have been speaking to. I just had an urge to see how it felt on my tongue.
The alpha clears his throat before responding.
“My family. They met at the Olympics. All of them played sports. Basketball, football, soccer, although my dad also called that football, and then my mom played tennis. She was the first omega to ever make it to internationals.” His voice tinges with pride, still faintly blushing.
“She sounds very impressive.”
“She is,” he agrees. “She would like you. They all would. Especially my dad that…”
He trails off, but I remember his words in the kitchen. His fear of resenting Sebastian for his father’s trophy being broken, the memory of it breaking being replaced by associating the poodle with me.
I pat the hand resting on his chest against him reassuringly. “I’m sorry for your loss. I’m sure he would be very proud of the man you’ve become.”
Evan snorts. “He was the little league coach from hell. Can you imagine signing your kid up for an after school hobby and some random dad is frothing at the mouth every practice?” There’s a hint of sadness behind the sarcastic humor.
“He taught you well, though.” I say quietly. “You’re amazing at this.”
The alpha studies my face for a moment. “He always wanted me to go pro. I got scouted a lot, so it was a possibility. An injury ended his career earlier than he liked, and he mourned it all the time. I rejected all the professional offers and wanted to focus on studying kinesiology instead to help him. Then he passed away before I finished my degree.”
He stops. When he continues, his voice is thick with emotion.
“It was sudden. A complication from a past surgery. To this day, I wonder if I chose the wrong path. Should I have just done what he wanted me to do? I didn’t even get to say goodbye before he was gone.
I don’t,” he exhales, looking up towards the ceiling.
“I don’t know if he died disappointed in me. ” His voice catches at the end.
I squeeze my arms around him as tightly as I can, blinking away the tears that have collected in my eyes. “He wasn’t. He couldn’t have been.” I can’t find the words to express my feelings, so I stroke his back instead, hoping the touch conveys what I can’t articulate.
Evan slowly moves his hands from my waist to wrap around my body. He rests his chin on top of my head, quiet for a moment. “Thank you,” he whispers into my hair. Then, louder, “I was just telling you to smile. Now here I am, being all depressing.”
“I’m sorry,” I apologize belatedly. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
He holds me tighter in response. “No, feel free to ask me anything, whenever. I’m all yours.”
I’m thankful he felt comfortable enough with me to share his sorrows. With how much they’ve been helping me, it’s nice to be able to do something for him in return.
“No further questions.” I continue petting his back, making him purr quietly with contentment. This alpha purr doesn’t turn me feral like the last. Instead, I close my eyes and press my face against his chest, enjoying the vibration. “Is there anything you want to ask me?”
“Can I braid your hair?”