Worth Saving(41)

Austin leads me down a flight of stairs, but once we reach the bottom, we’re finally on the court. Austin bounces the ball around and I can tell it’s not his first time. He looks like he may have played a little JV in high school or something like that. What he doesn’t know is that I used to play varsity for my high school—until I dropped out, anyway. I was pretty good at one point. In fact, the only ambition I ever had as a kid, was that I wanted to be in the WNBA. That dream didn’t last too long, though. I didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure out I’d never have the support from my father that it takes to make it that far. Living at home with him was like my own personal dream killer.

“So, you sure you want to do this?” I ask as I take off my sweater. Austin was right, I would’ve been burning up in that thing.

“Oh shit, taking off the sweater,” he jabs, grinning at me. “If you’re trying to intimidate me with that tank top, it’s not working. You’re not scary. Sexy, yes, but not scary. Let’s do this.”

“Okay then, let’s go. Don’t hold back because I’m a woman, either. I don’t want to hear any excuses when you lose.”

“Damn, and already talking shit, too! Oh, this is gonna be fun,” Austin chirps. He tosses me the basketball and starts doing little leg stretches.

“That’s right, make sure you stretch out. I’d hate for you to get a cramp or pull a muscle. Like I said, I don’t want any excuses.”

“Okay, you just remember you said all this shit when the game’s over and I’m holding my hands in the air, victorious.”

“We’ll see.”

I let him stretch for another minute or two, then we start the game. I have the ball first, and although it has been a while since I played, I find that you never really lose it. I dribble around for a minute, just trying to get a feel for the ball, while Austin wiggles around like a lunatic, pretending to play defense. He’s five feet away from me, dancing around like Michael Jackson and making faces at me. I start to laugh, but since he’s so far away, I just shoot it. The ball swishes through the net so loud I think it might echo. Austin suddenly stops dancing and stares at me.

“What?” I ask with a shrug. “You better D up.”

Austin wipes the dumb look off his face and steps up. It’s his ball now, and as soon as I give it to him, he does a dribble crossover move that leaves me in the dust while he runs to the rim and lays it in. Maybe he’s a little better than I thought.

“What?” he says as he grabs the ball and hands it back to me. “You better D up, BFF.”

“Alright then, it’s on. First to ten wins. The score is one, one. Let’s go.”

I take the ball at the top of the three point line and start to dribble. Austin isn’t dancing around this time. Now, he’s in a defensive position that looks like he’s been practicing it for a while. I try to dribble past him, but he moves everywhere I go. I move to the right, he jumps to the right and lands with a thud, I move left and he does the same thing. It all looks so funny that I start laughing.

“What are you doing?” I say, as I giggle and stop dribbling.

“What? This is how real defense is played. You picked up your dribble, you gotta shoot it now.” He moves closer to me and puts both of his hands up so I can’t get the shot off, which only makes me laugh harder.

“No fair, I can’t shoot it with you so close to me and making me laugh,” I argue. “I’m already so far away, just let me shoot it. I won’t make it from here, I’m three feet behind the three point line.”

He looks at me, suspicious, then he steps back. “Fine, but only because I think you look sexy in your tank top and leggings. If you make it, I’m not gonna have mercy on you for the rest of the game. Go ahead and shoot it.”

“Aww, you’re so sweet,” I say as he steps back and I release the ball. As soon as it leaves my hands, I know it’s going in. It swooshes through the net and I burst out laughing. “And dumb!” I exclaim.

“Dammit! That’s it.”

“Two to one,” I yell as I laugh and spin around in circles, feeling like a little kid.

Austin grabs the ball and immediately turns his back to me when I start to play defense. He’s trying to use his weight to back me up. We’re both starting to sweat, which would usually gross me out, but his sweat doesn’t even stink. I mean, maybe it does, but not to me. To me, his sweat has mixed in with his body wash to conceive a sexy, masculine fragrance that I take a big whiff of. His chiseled muscles are on full display as the shirt starts to stick to his body, and I playfully slap at the ball, missing on purpose so my hands can graze his stomach.

“Hmm, I think I like the way you play defense,” he jokes, then he does a spin and shoots the ball. It bounces off the rim with a loud clang. “Uhh, do-over! You distracted me.”

“There’s no do-overs in basketball, sir.”

“Yeah, there is when the person playing defense puts their boobs on your back. That’s a technical foul for sure.”

I bend over at the knees and let out a thunderous laugh. I laugh so hard it’s almost embarrassing, but we’ve laughed so much together I’m sure he’s used to it by now.

“Stop laughing,” he gleefully bellows as he fights back his own laughter. “You’re only laughing because you know you’re cheating. You can’t put your boobs on a man’s back and expect him to not be distracted.”