Chapter 16
Riley
The sound of the ball swishing through the net never fails to satisfy. It feels good to get back on the court, even if it’s only to shoot some hoops on my own.
I’d run into Principal Jones, who happens to live down the street from my mom, while out walking Connor this morning.
He was on his way to work, and we got to chatting about my less-than-triumphant return to town.
He’s been the principal of Llyn Lakes High since I attended, and was a big supporter of mine while I’d captained the basketball team.
After chatting for a few minutes about how my mom was doing, he got around to expressing his disappointment over my failed college ball career, so …
that was fun, but also expected. All the while, Connor had glared up at him, a feat I hadn’t been aware dogs were capable of before meeting the little guy.
I wonder how long it’ll take before I stop having to eat crow over my shortcomings. Whenever it is, I look forward to that day. Principal Jones was nice about it, at least, and asked what I’d been up to in the intervening years since I’d been away and whether I still played at all.
I’d actually avoided it for a long time after I got out, until one day some kids playing a pick-up game on a court in a park outside of New Orleans nearly lost their ball in the bayou.
I happened to be walking nearby and intercepted it right before it went in.
The second I had that ball in my hands, I was transported back to a time before I’d let all the pressure to perform ruin me.
Back to when it was just about the joy of playing, the pure love of the game.
I’d spun the ball on a finger and showed off some dribbling tricks before returning it to the kids, who’d ooh-ed and aah-ed and reignited my desire to play.
Later that evening, I’d returned to the court and shot some hoops on my own, reveling in the feel of the ball in my hands and the familiar sounds of it bouncing on the court; the reverberation of it drumming against the backboard; and yes, the aforementioned swish that signifies nothin’ but net.
So I’d answered Principal Jones in the affirmative, telling him I still liked to shoot some hoops from time to time, but that the old net at my mom’s had long since deteriorated and she’d had my brother take down the rusted-out rim.
Since it’s still too early in the season for practices, he’d offered me use of the school gym any afternoon after classes ended.
Needless to say, I jumped at the chance, eager not only to get back to my roots but also for an outlet for all the pent-up energy that’s been building since my last two encounters with Steph.
I can’t stop thinking about her.
How good she looks. How strong she is after everything she’s apparently been through, though I’m sure I’ve only heard the Cliff Notes version of all of that.
I can’t stop thinking about how much I want to touch her again. Taste her.
I’m here to put her out of my mind for a bit, I remind myself with a sigh. Focus on basketball and this generous offer from Principal Jones. It does feel amazing to be back out on a real hardwood court and not the outdoor, crumbling asphalt ones I’ve become accustomed to in recent years.
I retrieve the ball and dribble it back out to the top of the key, then drive it in on my right for a layup.
It misses, but I rebound with a slam dunk, then congratulate myself internally.
Looks like I’ve still got some moves, even if my progress with Steph is frustratingly slow.
I retrieve the ball again and this time dribble out to the wing for a three-pointer… and … swish. Ohhh yeah, baby.
Just then, I catch a glimpse of a familiar figure with a perky blonde bob passing by the open gym doors as though I’d manifested her.
“Steph?” I call out in surprise. A moment later, she appears in the doorway, having backtracked at the sound of my voice.
“Riley, what are you doing here?”
“Is that how you’re always going to greet me?” I joke as I tuck the ball under my arm and move closer to the doorway.
She looks down at her feet. “You’ve been gone a long time. I guess I’m just not used to running into you yet.”
“Will you get used to it, do you think?” I ask, and we both know there’s more to that question. I’m not just asking if she’ll get used to me again, but will she accept me. Will she give me a second chance?
She swallows, then meets my gaze searchingly. I hope she finds whatever it is she’s looking for because I’m not giving up.
“I don’t know,” she finally admits.
“Well,” I clear my throat. “To answer your question, I’m playing ball.”
“I see that.”
“Principal Jones offered me use of the gym whenever I feel the urge to get out on the court.”
“Oh. That was nice of him.”
I nod and bounce the ball a few times before tucking it under my arm again.
“So … what are you doing here?” I parrot her earlier question with a teasing smile.
And … she smiles back!
That’s four.
Yep, I’ve been keeping track. There were obviously no smiles that first night at the bar, but she gave me three smiles when we spoke at the library.
Well, more like two and a half, but I’m rounding up.
Smiles from Steph mean progress. I know this because it’s how I won her over the first time when I pursued her back in high school.
It was your clichéd story of the soft-spoken English tutor who couldn’t imagine that the big bad jock wanted anything to do with her.
But from the moment I’d laid eyes on her in that classroom after practice, I was smitten.
She was a year behind me, and very timid in my presence at first. In the social landscape of high school, she was more on the shy side, yet intellectually, she had an understated confidence I couldn’t resist. She was smart, and she knew it.
So smart, in fact, that our mutual English teacher had recommended her to tutor me in the grade above.
To my endless frustration, she’d ignored my advances for months, blushing and avoiding eye contact whenever possible.
Every once in a while, though, I’d say something that got through to her, and … she’d smile.
So I’d counted those smiles—hoarded them, like treasure.
At first, they were few and far between, and for a while there, I considered giving up.
But every time she offered me a new one, I was on the hook once more.
As we slowly got to know each other, over Romeo and Juliet and To Kill a Mockingbird, she started to open up.
Little by little, she let down her walls, and when she graced me with those smiles, it lit her whole face up like sunshine—hence the nickname.
I became obsessed with drawing those smiles from her until eventually, she offered them freely, just at the sight of me.
So that’s my metric.
I’ll do anything for those smiles, and I’ll continue to count them until they once again shine readily in my presence.
“I’m waiting on Alex,” she answers me with an unnecessary gesture towards the hallway. “He stayed late in the computer lab to work on a graphic design project. They have some special software that his laptop doesn’t. Thought I’d pick him up since I’m headed home now too.”
“Graphic design? Things sure have changed since our time here, huh?”
She smiles again—five—but it’s a little wistful, a little sad.
Hmm. Maybe that one doesn’t count.
Perhaps reminding her of our time spent here together was a bad idea, though it’s hard not to think about it when I find her standing before me at the sideline like she had all those times in the past when I’d been the one she was waiting on after school.
“I guess, in some ways.” She casts her gaze around the gym, no doubt taking in the bleachers she’d spent many an afternoon doing homework on.
I notice the moment her eyes land on the pennant from our big tri-county win, and the one where we took second place at state.
When they return to me, that smile has faded.
“In other ways, it seems like nothing has changed at all.”
“Well, we didn’t have a computer lab back then.”
“Actually,” she says, her smile returning. “We did.”
That one’s a fiver for sure.
“No shit?”
She nods, amused. “You make it sound like it was ages ago.”
“Feels like it,” I grunt.
She chuckles. “Well, I’ll have you know we did in fact have computers back then—and a computer lab.
” She makes a show of looking around before she leans in and whispers conspiratorially, “We even had cell phones.” And I can’t help the spark of pleasure that rises in my chest at the fact she’s teasing me—laughing with me, even.
“You couldn’t be bothered with anything besides basketball back then, so I guess you wouldn’t remember. ”
The scent of citrus washes over me, and I realize we’ve moved closer to one another. She stares up into my eyes, frozen for a moment. I reach out and take her hand in mine. She doesn’t pull it back.
“I remember plenty,” I say hoarsely, and I know from the flare in her eyes she can tell I’m no longer referring to computers.
“Mom,” a voice calls from down the hall, causing Steph to rip her hand from my grip and whirl around in the doorway.
My shoulders drop at the interruption, and I take in the lanky boy approaching. You’ve got terrible timing, kid.
“Hey, baby,” Steph says, her face a deep red.
“Not at school,” the boy hisses, drawing near.
“Oh, right. Sorry. Did you get your project done?”
He nods, then turns to look at me. His blond hair is long in the front and falls into his eyes. Still, I can see they’re the same warm brown as his mother’s.
“Alex, this is Riley,” Steph says. She swallows before adding, “An old friend.”
Friend.
I’ll take it. For now.
“Nice to meet you.” I shift the basketball to my other arm so I can extend a hand to shake.
“Huh,” the boy says, leaving me hanging. His eyes bounce suspiciously between Steph and me.
“He’s Aidan’s brother,” she adds, elbowing the boy.
“Nice to meet you,” he mumbles, then turns back to his mother. “Can we go now?”
She nods, and he walks away. Steph watches him for a long moment, then turns back to me with an apologetic smile. I don’t think I’m going to count that one, but then her attention snags on something over my shoulder—on those pennants again—and when she turns back to me once more, it’s softened.
“See you around, Captain,” she says quietly, and her lips remain tipped up.
Six.
A text comes through as I’m pulling into the driveway an hour later, covered in sweat, but feeling good. It instantly sours my mood.
Unknown
Stay the hell away from my wife
I guess Piper’s talk with my brother didn’t go so well.