“And my dad almost ripped your throat out when you walked me back to the house after curfew?”
We share a small laugh, and Everett eases into the cushions closer to me, letting the side of his head rest against the soft curves so our eyes are level. “To be fair, he wanted to rip my throat out every time I looked at you.”
“Yeah, but he got over that pretty quickly.”
He smirks, and we sit there, those moments from our past drifting in front of us. I can’t decide if it feels like someone’s dangling those memories to taunt us or if they’re sitting there, letting us sift through them, because we both need to.
For a second, I don’t see the Everett that’s in front of me right now. His skin a little weathered and the lines running out the corners of his eyes. Or the jawline that’s grown sharper over the years with the loss of his baby fat and youth. I see that seventeen-year-old boy I loved with my entire heart. Not parts of it where some corners were reserved for other important people in my life, but all of it. My entire heart belonged to that boy at some point in my life, and I don’t know what happened to that girl who loved with her entire being.
I reach up and smooth away a piece of his hair without even realizing it, only thinking about the hundreds of times I’d done it as that girl who was hopelessly in love.
“I loved you,” I say sadly. “So much.”
“I know,” he answers. “I did too.”
Not as much as I did.
CHAPTERSIX
Everett
THEN
By the secondweek of school, I’d familiarized myself with my class schedule, memorizing the rooms and learning that Josh and the rest of the basketball team sit pretty much dead center in the cafeteria where they garner the most attention. Josh welcomed me into the throng of fellow varsity team members until I’d finally snagged myself a meeting with the coach. Most of it was in part due to Josh’s persistence, though a push of encouragement from the rest of the team helped. With Josh’s charisma, popularity, and his ball throwing skills I’ve witnessed once or twice outside on his driveway since the first day of school, it makes sense he’s the team captain.
The guys mainly talked basketball, like how far they’d get this season with the new roster, and there were bits and pieces of upcoming parties and car talk. I chimed in here and there, answering questions like where I’m from and how I was managing the stick shift on my new car. It felt easy without the need for an icebreaker or a formal initiation.
I’m finally meeting Coach Martinez today after school during a pre-season practice meet with the rest of the team. Josh and I are heading to the gym after he sent Teeny home, tossing her his keys and making her promise not to eat in the car. She simply rolled her eyes at him, wishing me luck with an encouraging smile.
She’s grown more comfortable around me, even helping me with last week’s verb conjugation assignment and leaving behind small smiley faces in my notebook when I looked away. I keep finding ways to make her laugh, enjoying too much the way her entire face lights up and the small touches when she gently places her hand on my arm or playfully shoves at my shoulder. Even under the watchful eye of our French teacher, I manage to risk it all for a sliver of her attention.
“We’re doing a really simple, unofficial scrimmage today,” Josh explains to me as Teeny walks to the parking lot. Josh and I head in the opposite direction to the gym. “The season doesn’t start for another month and a half, but Coach likes to see how we’ve been doing over the summer.”
I nod.
“One of the seniors a few years back had a pretty serious injury, and when they couldn’t find anyone as good to fill his spot, Coach kind of panicked.” We approach the large double doors to the gymnasium, and Josh pulls at the clunky metal handle with a loud clank. “I think it would put him at ease if he had an extra player on the sidelines who knows what they’re doing.”
We trudge across the shiny, glossy hard flooring. There’s a handful of other guys there, a lot of the same faces I’ve been sitting with at the cafeteria for the past week. Everyone appears pretty laid back, no formalities, which adds to Josh’s statement that this’ll be just an hour of practice drills. We all greet each other with lazy nods and even lazier high fives and handshakes, a sign of the after-school fatigue settled in our bones.
“Okay, team!” I hear a voice boom across the large gymnasium, the sternness attached to a man wearing a navy-blue polo shirt and a silver whistle around his neck. Everyone’s faces perk up, that lethargy being swiped away with a wave of attention and focus. “Pair off into your teams. You guys know the drill. Four minutes, fifteen seconds on the shot clock.”
Coach’s eyes land on me, the newcomer that sticks out like a sore thumb and stalks toward us.
“Coach, this is Everett,” Josh says, rushing to my side. “The guy I was talking about.”
Coach squints his eyes. “You up for a scrimmage today?”
“Yes, sir.”
A flash of approval flits across his face. “All right, go change, and Josh’ll tell you where to go.”
I reach into my bag for my basketball shorts and jog to the locker room.
An hour and a half later, I have a thin sheen of sweat glistening off my neck. Coach blows his whistle and gestures for everyone to gather toward the bleachers near the locker room entrance.
“All right,” he announces, scanning his eyes over the symphony of haggard breaths. “You guys did good. Some more than others, but we have practice to catch up. Remember, official practice starts in a month. In the meantime, practice at home or here. I can extend my office hours if you need to use the gym.”
Everyone starts to walk off to the lockers when Coach calls for me. “Hayes.” I turn to him, and he meets me halfway with a fist jabbed into his hip and his other arm hanging loosely by his side. “So, I hear your dad is Edward Hayes.”
