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With a shake of my head at my own stupidity, I turn around and follow after Ashton, her words ringing in my head.
Boys.Of course she’d see us as boys. She works at the community center, for God’s sake. It’s not like she’s going to flirt with teenagers. Not that she looks much older than us. I glance over my shoulder, noticing that she’s returned her attention to her computer. Probably in her early twenties or something.
I run my hand over my face.
Focus, Quinn.
Freaking focus.
I follow Ashton down the hallways and to the back, where the gym is situated. Even through the closed door, you can hear the ball bouncing off the floor and the screech of sneakers on the court.
Ashton pushes the door to the gym open and enters without a care in the world, so I follow after him, taking everything in.
There are about twenty or so guys and girls of different ages out on the court divided into three groups. An older guy walks around, his eyes focused as a boy my age dribbles the ball around the cones. He’s good, with a decent speed. I watch him go left and right before pushing off the floor and taking a shot. The ball glides through the air and hits the basket only to bounce back, going toward me. Or, more precisely, toward the kid that’s watching a few feet in front of me.
I move before I can even think about it. One moment I’m standing on the side; the next, I’m in front of the kid, my fingers wrapping around the ball and catching it mid-air. Not missing a beat, I fall back to the ground and dribble to the three-point line before taking a shot, the ball sliding in an arc and falling through the middle of the hoop.
Turning around, I find all eyes on me, including Coach’s.
He tilts his chin toward the ball. “Get in line.”
Nodding, I do as I’m told. For the next two hours, I did everything that was asked of me, going through various exercises.
Once the Coach calls an end to the practice, I’m a sweaty mess. Ashton joins me, his elbow connecting to my ribs. “I think he likes you.”
“I don’t know about that.” I shrug.
“Oh, he does. I’m going to the bathroom. Wait for me?”
I nod. “I’ll meet you outside.”
I follow a few other kids toward the front of the building, dragging my feet the closer we get to the front desk and Vanessa. I watch as a girl stops in front of her. She crouches down, so she’s at her level, listening intently to whatever she’s saying. Vanessa laughs, the light sound echoing in the room.
A woman calls out, and the little girl waves at Vanessa. She straightens, noticing me standing there for the first time.
“How was practice, Quinn?”
“It was cool,” I say, shrugging.
“Just cool?” She chuckles, going back to her spot behind the counter, and I stop in front of it. “Didn’t you have fun?”
“I guess.”
Coming here wasn’t about fun. It was about securing my future, but I didn’t want to talk about it with her or anybody else.
So instead, I watch her. Those dark eyes, and lush lips, and… There’s an eyelash stuck to her cheekbone. Before thinking too much about it, my hand reaches forward, and I brush it away.
“Are those real?”
So smooth, you idiot.
“My eyelashes?” she chuckles. “Yeah, they’re real, although I’m not sure most girls would appreciate you asking.”
“You don’t seem like most girls.”
At this, she laughs even harder. “What do I seem like?”
Smart. Sexy. Funny.
