My stomach does athing, flipping and tensing and pooling something hot and needy in the pit of it. How dare he text me something so sexy? How dare he assume I’d still let him teach meanything?
It takes me a while to respond, as I’m not surewhatto say to that without sounding like a dick or too desperate. Either way, I lose. All of the power is in Atticus’s hands.
It’s not until we’re leaving the café, all without Cassie saying a word to me, that I do message him back.
It’s simple. Efficient. Just enough to bite back without asking for anything at all.
Cameron 7:01 p.m.
Game on.
The gymnasium stands are only partially full. Some locals have come to show support, and the rest are here supporting the out-of-town team.
We’re on the court, with only one minute of the second half to go. Port Orford is winning by two points, thanks to Michael. He’s kind of a layup god.
On the bleachers closest to the court on the home side, the girls sit together as they cheer. Even Cassie is smiling, giving me a wide grin every time our eyes connect. We haven’t even seen each other since Thursday at the café, let alone spoken. I guess she’s over it.
I’m sweating like crazy, my shirt and shorts damp as I pant. I love basketball; it’s a good workout and a great stress reliever. It gives me purpose. I should have been more excited for the game—I really needed this.
While on the court, it’s hard to focus on Atticus or his body double, constantly having to watch the other team or make a move. Sneakers squeak against polished hardwood, bodies are constantly slamming together, and the thrill of winning trumps everything else.
Or, it has been; for the past 39 minutes of gameplay, I have been blissfully locked in. But now, as I turn slowly to face the small crowd, the hair on the back of my neck stands on end.
He’s here. I can feel it.
But why? Atticus himself wants nothing to do with me, and I didn’t even tell him about this game.
My eyes search the crowd as different players on both teams rush past me, but I can’t find him.
And then movement at the very top of the bleachers catches my eye, and as I tilt my head up, I see him there. Standing tall in his button-up and slacks, with his hands tucked into his pockets, Atticus watches me.
I can’t make out his expression from here, but he’s unmoving, face turned in my direction like a daunting angel sent to watch over me.
The buzzer sounds throughout the gymnasium, and my gaze snaps up to the scoreboard.
We’ve won by those two points Michael scored for us a few minutes ago, and the whole building erupts in cheers. A few feet away, the team has gathered around Michael, cheering and landing soft punches on his arms and chest.
They’re celebrating our win, completely ecstatic even though it doesn’t really mean anything.
“Cam! Congrats!” Cassie shouts, leaping into my arms as everyone runs onto the court.
It’s nice—the familiar weight of her body, knowing she’s not upset with me anymore. Sure, I’m irritated that she’s tried contacting Atticus, but I’m no better. I literally tried breaking into Chastain Castle, so…
“Thanks, Cas,” I reply, giving her a small grin.
“Checkers?” Hailey asks, coming up beside us with Kim in tow.
My eyes flicker back up to the top of the bleachers, but Atticus is gone. He’s disappeared into thin air.
“No Checkers,” Michael interrupts, breaking off from the team to join us. “Carl is throwing a party in honor of our win!”
“You can’t even drink,” Kim deadpans.
Michael just wiggles his brows. “Oh, but I canparty.”
“Ew,” his sister complains, scrunching her nose up at the sexual implication as everyone else just laughs.
I follow the rest of the team, listening to their chatter as we shower and change back into our regular clothes. But my mind won’t leave Atticus and why he would have come to watch the game. Who even told him about it?
