I know exactly what Connor is doing. Giving me concrete questions to focus on, so I don’t totally squirrel. He’s been doing it for years.
Still, I’m more than happy to play along because it really does help.
“We have them over the next three-ish weeks, into mid-June.”
“Ah, so no hitting the club again anytime soon?” He nudges my shoulder with his.
“No, I will have to stick to wholesome activities only.”
“Got it,” Connor says. “Let me find the bowling alley and miniature golf place nearest Landon’s house.”
His tone is snarky, and I snort in amusement. But hey—those don’t actually sound so bad.
After a few minutes of back-and-forth on possible activities to do together, he gives me an update on Mom’s reaction to him coming to Orlando instead of Alabama this summer.
The upshot:If all my children are going to abandon me…blah blah. Emotional manipulation at its finest.
“I’m sorry, Con. I mean, the woman hasn’t even reached out to me since I signed my contract. And even then, all I got was a simple text.”
“Yeah, I’m fine, don’t worry. You still talking to Dad at all?”
I feel bad because I know Dad doesn’t pay much mind to Connor, so I skirt over the truth. “We text on occasion.” In reality he sends me notes almost every day on whatever’s going on in the sports world.
I don’t have to massage us around that topic any more though, because the Surge start streaming out of one of the hallways, running to their half of the court for warmups.
And then out comes Avery, looking long, lean, and strong, her inky-black hair pulled up in its standard ponytail.
She glances my way almost immediately, and I shoot her a smile.Return it, I try to telegraph, remembering the point of today.
And then she does.
Shit, be careful what you wish for, because that smile—I react to it like it’s real.
A prickly heat rises in my chest while I also feel a deeper pull in my gut.
And fuck me if every vow I’ve made in the last ten days about this thing we’re doing gets chucked in the trash.
I like her.
And it’s not just that. I want her to like me back.
That compulsion, it’s stronger than I expect.
Maybe it’s being here at her court, getting the benefit of her attention when she’s in her full power?
Whatever’s going on, as she turns her head back to a teammate and grabs a ball, one thing is clear.
I’m in trouble here.
Ican’tlet myself get invested in this, in us.Fuck.
Connor and I watch them do their shoot-around largely in silence, and I take the time to reset.
You have a role to play, Battle. Stay on it.
And the next part of the act is coming up.
When the warmups end, the players start to head back to the bench. Only, as we’d intended, Avery strides over to where Connor and I sit, casually dribbling off and on.
