Page 31 of Loving a Warrior

“Well, have another fucking soda, then!” Shane slammed the foot of his recliner down. “C’mon, Matt. Stick around and stop being such a goddamned loner for once.”

“Whatever.” Matt headed for the door, hearing Shane heave a sigh as he reached for his discarded sneakers.

“Wait for me.”

“What?”

“I have a great five-mile route around here. Let’s go. Run with me.”

Shane tied his shoes with impatient motions, grumbling something under his breath about people who didn’t know how to relax.

All Matt could do was gape at him, still clutching his duffel.

Just leave, idiot.

“You coming? Oh, wait a sec!” Shane veered off toward the laundry room and emerged a few seconds later spinning a basketball on his finger triumphantly. “There’s a little park a block over. How ’bout that rematch?”

When Matt hesitated, Shane crinkled his nose at him. “Dude, come out and play,” he wheedled. “You know you want to.”

Matt did want to, way more than he should. “Fine, whatever,” he found himself saying. Besides, what was gonna happen on a basketball court?

The night was foggy, a light rain falling as they ambled to a tiny neighborhood park a short distance from Shane’s house. It was deserted, the halogen streetlights nearby bathing everything in a soft, yellow glow.

Shane led the way toward the basketball court and started dribbling the ball. “Just a friendly game of one-on-one here, right?”

Matt nodded, plucking at his damp T-shirt, which was sticking to him in spots. Shane laughed when he noticed. “Well, once again we’re wet. If you wanna get sandy, too—” He nodded toward a large sandbox nearby, his eyes alight with mischief.

“Pass.”

“Okay.”

Shane fired the ball at him and Matt just had time to grab it before it smashed him in the face. “You asshole!”

Going into a loose guard stance, Shane beckoned to him almost lazily. “C’mon. Take your best shot.”

Matt sneered and dribbled for a minute, sizing him up, before driving toward the basket. Shane blocked his way, an immovable force, but with some fancy footwork Matt managed to get around him. To his disgust he missed the shot, the ball bouncing harmlessly off the rim. Shane made no effort to snag the rebound, so Matt grabbed it and set up opposite him again.

“What the fuck? You even gonna try here?”

“Maybe.”

Their eyes met, and Shane beckoned to him again. “So…you gonna shoot?”

“When I’m damn good and ready.”

Mindlessly dribbling, Matt turned his back, tensing as he felt Shane come up behind him to raise his arms above Matt’s shoulders, moving in so close Matt could feel his heat. The smell of rain and sweat teased his nostrils.

“Get outta my way,” he mumbled.

Shane gave a low, hoarse chuckle almost directly in Matt’s ear. “Make me.”

Matt feinted to each side, which Shane countered with ease. Desperate, he spun and aimed a clumsy jump shot over Shane’s head, this time missing the basket completely. The ball bounced off into the darkness as Matt crashed hard into Shane, who staggered back and grabbed hold of Matt’s waist.

Blood roaring in his ears, Matt told himself to back off, but his legs felt weak and rubbery, refusing to obey.

“Hey, you okay? Did you twist your ankle?”

“Shit.” Matt stepped back, goosebumps springing up all over as Shane’s hands slid along his hips before dropping away. “No, I’m okay. Sorry about that.”