Page 17 of Love & Streetball

“Thanks. Let’s go one-on-one to fifteen. Ball’s yours.”

I grunted and snubbed my nose. This girl. I could tell she thought she could beat me one-on-one.

The game started. Slim was quick with a nice crossover that almost left me stumbling a couple of times. She was sloppy, though. She kept forcing shots and letting her frustration get the best of her. I played how I normally played, and didn’t take it easy on her.

Slim scored first and taunted, “One-nothing.” There was a triumphant smirk on her face.

I just smiled, letting her have a moment.

She stole the ball from me and scored another point, and then another after that. Slim was now up by three. The next time I had the ball, I scored from behind the arc. We were still counting it as one point, but this shit was too easy for me.

When Slim had the ball, I stripped it from her and took off down the court and hit a layup.

“Three-two,” I commented, leaning over with my hands on my knees to catch my breath.

Slim was getting cocky, and her movements were reckless and predictable. I whooped her ass by three points.

“You cheated,” she huffed as we sat down on the cement.

I snorted. “You tried it. I won fair and square.”

She waved me off with a flick of her wrist. “Whatever.”

“Maaan, don’t tell me you’re a sore loser. Do you act like this after you lose a game? Do you go stomping your feet to the locker room?” I joked, but seriously wanted to know.

“Yes, and I scream all the way until I’m hoarse,” Slim replied in a dry tone.

I burst out laughing, a loud laugh that echoed across the empty court. Slim peered at me sideways, a small, almost reluctant smile playing on her lips. I pushed myself off the ground and offered her my hand.

“C’mon, I’m starving. Let me feed you before I get you back home.”

Slim hesitated for a second before taking my hand. I pulled her up, her grip surprisingly strong.

“Where are you taking me? Some place with valet parking and a dress code?” she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she dusted off her shorts.

“Nah, I don’t even like that type of shit,” I admitted. “My parents make me go, though, but I was thinking more of a taco truck with no dress code.”

I led Slim back to my car. The drive was a little different this time. The tension was gone, replaced by comfortable, easy silence. Her arms weren’t crossed this time, and she wasn’t sitting stiff as a board anymore. Slim watched the city lights blur past the window. I found myself stealing glances at her. She was rough around the edges, but I could still see her beauty.

The taco truck was parked under a flickering fluorescent light in a gas station parking lot. The air smelled of grilled onions and beef. When we parked, we sauntered over to the truck. I went ahead and ordered for both of us—beef tacos on corn tortillas, cooked all the way through with onions and cilantro.

While waiting for the food, I leaned against the hood of my car as Slim looked everywhere but me, kicking a rock with her foot.

“What size shoe you wear?” I asked even though Vani had already told me. I need to be sure.

Slim glanced down at her feet. “Umm…a size eight, why?”

I pointed down at her shoes. “You need some new shoes. Those are about start talking any day now.”

“Wow,” she mumbled. “Just because you have money doesn’t mean you can go around and put people down for having less than you.”

My heart dropped down to my ass, and I bet all the color drained from my face. “That’s not what I was trying to do, Slim. For real. My fault. I was just tryin to look out.”

“I don’t need you to look out, Kane,” she shot out. “Especially not from you.”

I was about to respond because it was obvious I’d hurt her feelings, but the lady from the taco truck walked over with our food and horchatas. There were three benches, one already occupied. The sun was going down, but I really wanted to sit, eat, and get to know Slim.

“You want to sit and eat?” I asked.