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20
CLAY
The next two nights, we play in Dallas.
Miles pulled a muscle and can’t start, but I play my best game since I came back, shooting lights-out, grabbing passes from Jay, finding Rookie in the corner for threes, hooking up Atlas.
But Kyle’s in a shitty mood and not talking about it.
He fouls up and down the court.
It’s a tight loss, Kyle getting called out on fouls a few minutes before the end.
When we pile onto Bear Force One to head back, Miles and Atlas are arguing.
“What is this, self-help?” Miles taunts, trying to take the thick book open in Atlas’s lap.
“Get your hand out of my bearspace,” Atlas shoves at Miles. “Worry about your own game.”
Rookie drops into the seat next to me.
“What’s eating you?” he prompts.
“Nothing.” I fuss with my headphones.
“Yeah, that’s a real ‘nothing’ face.”
I shoot him a look. “Nova. She practically ran out of the party on the weekend.”
Maybe I came on too strong. I wanted to get closer to her, and instead I pushed her away.
She texted me to let me know she got home okay but hasn’t been in touch since.
I know she’s heading to New York for her show this week and we’re getting ready for a stretch of home games.
But I can’t let it go.
“It wasn’t you,” Rookie says.
“What do you mean?”
“When I was looking for Waffles, I found her upstairs talking with Kyle.” He hesitates, glancing across the plane to the man in question. “Didn’t get the background, but she didn’t sound happy.”
Kyle locks gazes with us, narrowing his eyes.
He’s selfish, and I hate the thought of him being around her.
I have to figure this out.
Before it gets out of hand.
21
NOVA
“Are you ready to come out?” the gallery owner asks, teasing. She’s a few years older than me and seems to understand the nerves.
I’m hiding in the back room, chewing on my cheek and pacing the storage room filled with canvases.
