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Giggling, she pulls a flask out of her purse and hands it to me. “You need to relax, Connor. The world doesn’t end tomorrow.”
She has a point. “You’re right. And I’m sorry. I’m sure this version of me wasn’t what you were expecting when you asked me to go with you.”
With a shrug, she goes to the corner of the court and grabs a ball from the rack. “I just like hanging out with you. It doesn’t really matter what we do.”
I take a sip of the bourbon she snuck in, wondering why she brought it since she doesn’t drink. “Me, too.” And it’s not a lie. I was wrong to have judged her the way I did, because she’s fun to be around. The type of fun that lets me forget everything else.
“One-on-one?” she asks, effortlessly spinning the ball on the tip of her finger.
I take another swig, breathe the alcohol straight into me. “Last time we played, I nailed you.”
“You haven’t nailed me.” She smirks. “Yet.”
I take the ball from her, go for a simple lay-up, then go after the ball and hold it under my arm as I face her. “I’ll give you a fifteen-point head start, just to make it fair.”
“Deal.”
We play until it’s fifteen all, taking breaks for me to sip on her flask. “You gotta give me more than that if you want a chance at scoring,” I laugh out.
She narrows her eyes. “So many innuendos, I can’t choose one.”
I stand under the basket, throw the ball to her while she waits at the free-throw line. I say, “I’ll give you a free shot, just because I feel sorry for you.”
Smiling, she dribbles for a few seconds, her feet planted to the floor. And then she moves in on me, closer and closer, until she’s standing in front of me, her nose to my chest. “Connor?”
I stand taller. “Karen?”
She throws the ball behind her, and I watch it fly in the air, feeling a chuckle build inside me. But it stops when her hands press against my chest, forceful enough for me to take a step back, and then another, and another, until my back hits a wall. I swallow, nervous, and look down at her. Her hands travel down my torso, to my stomach, and my breath halts when she licks her lips. Eyes on mine, she murmurs, “You miss a hundred percent of the shots you don’t take, right?”
I nod.
Her eyes drift shut, and I suck in a breath when she leans forward, mouth ready, and it would be so easy to do this. To be this. With her. I close my eyes…
And I picture Ava.
My eyes snap open. “I can’t,” I whisper, my hands finding Karen’s shoulders to stop her. To stop myself. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
Karen keeps her gaze lowered. “Because of her?” she asks quietly.
“No, because of me,” I tell her honestly, putting more space between us. “Because my heart will always be hers, even if she’ll never accept it.”
SEVEN
ava
I’m sick of crying.
I’m sick of hoping.
And I’m sick of my own self-pity.
I promise myself to become the model student (for Trevor) with the perfect patience (for my mom), and I stop letting my emotions drive me, and instead, use my love and appreciation for Trevor to guide me.
Life is a series of decisions, Connor’s dad once said. You make them because they feel right at the time, but you’re not bound to them forever. But I am bound to them.
I made a choice to stay for my mom.
And I made a choice to leave for Connor.
