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I’m very tempted to say I’m not going at all now that I know who all will be there.
My plan was to come back, talk to Cassia tonight, and then go off with the guys tomorrow to celebrate or commiserate.
Every summer since graduating high school, we’ve driven to the state park an hour away and camped out in the woods. Drunk beer, talked about nothing important, and gone fishing.
This year feels like it’ll be our last chance. Next summer, we’ll have graduated college.
That’s the only reason I decide not to back out, even if the trip will most likely be filled with drama and complaints if the girls are coming. And possibly flirting, since my relationship status is ambiguous to everyone, including me. Everyone saw Cassia walk away from me earlier.
“Not her thing,” I say, since that’s easier than admitting the truth: I don’t think she’ll go. Not ifIask her.
Finn sighs again. He’s always extra dramatic when he’s drunk.
And being my best friend is probably an exhausting job.
We finish hitting the rest of the leftover cans, then toss the ones that didn’t make it into the dumpster and head back toward the court.
Grass gradually gives way to the rectangle of cracked asphalt that marks one of my favorite places in the world. I’ve been coming here since I was a kid, riding my bike until I was old enough to drive. It’s seen me through plenty of shitty times, and I wish it was totally empty now.
I’d love to stand and shoot.
Something about sending a basketball through the hoop over and over again soothes my annoyance like nothing else.
Maybe it’s the repetition.
Maybe it’s the purpose.
Maybe it’s that I’mgood, and there’s a special satisfaction that accompanies success you’ve earned. Whatever the reason, I could really use that sort of therapy right now.
Mark, Jordan, Finn, and I played some two-on-two earlier, but it was a friendly game lacking all the intensity I’m craving.
I’m not as tired as I should be after weeks of pushing myself physically. There’s a relentless buzz humming beneath my skin, one that amplified with each swing of a brown ponytail walking away.
I should have gone after her. Probably. Maybe. Fuck if I know the right move.
We didn’t hammer out any details of our “break” or discuss whether the space she asked for extended to when we were in the same place again.
Cassia has always complicated my priorities. I fought falling for her; it happened anyway. Fought it for lots of reasons, but high on that list was not wanting to hurt her. She deserves better than me and my baggage. She’s smart and kind and motivated, none of which are adjectives most people would use to describe me.
I’m driven when it comes to basketball, I guess. But that road is close to ending. Chances I’ll wind up getting drafted to play professionally are slim. So I’m staring at a future without the escape I’ve always excelled at. And possibly without the one person who’s my calm in the midst of chaos.
I might not deserve Cassia Nolan, but hell if I don’t want her. Need her.
And it’s always felt like she wantedme. Neededme.
Until now.
I talk with the guys for a few more minutes, finalizing plans for the trip tomorrow and catching up. I barely kept in touch this summer, using basketball and being away as an excuse.
“I’m headed out,” I announce, pulling my keys out of my pocket and spinning them around one finger.
Finn glances over. “You’re good to drive?”
He squints at me like he’s in any shape to assess my sobriety. Mark’s driving him and Jordan home.
“I only had one beer. I’m good.”
We say our final goodbyes and then I head for the makeshift parking area. My truck and Mark’s SUV are the only two cars left.
