Page 1 of Fake It Til You Break It

one

~ Jasper ~

Clutchingthebasketballbetweenhis hands, Caleb looked back and forth between me and the net. Small for a twelve-year-old, he appeared lost and alone, his gaze pleading, and a desperate need for acceptance etched on his face.

“You can do it,” I assured him. “Take the shot!”

In the three weeks since he had arrived at Project SafeHouse, we had been working to build his confidence. Some days, some situations, were better than others. I wanted him to try, to trust himself, but I wouldn’t let him crash and burn. If it came to it, I was prepared to step in and save the day.

“You’ve got this!” one of the older boys shouted, effectively sidelining my rescue plans.

Then the other three joined in, offering their own encouragements.

“Come on, Caleb!”

“You can do it!”

“Let’s go, Caleb!”

No one tried to steal the ball. No one tried to guard him or block him. They simply surrounded him with the kind of support I had worked so hard to cultivate at the youth center. Witnessing my team’s efforts paying off in real time filled me with an overwhelming sense of pride and gratitude.

Narrowing his eyes in determination, Caleb bent at the knees, lined up his shot, and let it fly. The ball hit the rim, bounced and wobbled, and when it fell through the net with a satisfyingswish, the other boys converged on him, patting his back and ruffling his hair.

“You did it!”

“Way to go!”

“Good shot, man!”

I stood off to the side, watching him for any signs of discomfort, worried that the noise and unsolicited contact might be triggering. But Caleb brushed his hair away from his sweatybrow and beamed, soaking up the praise and attention like a sponge.

“Mr. Ryan?”

Still grinning, I glanced over my shoulder to find a couple of giggling teenage girls standing near the edge of the court. “What’s up?”

“There’s someone here to see you,” Jessa announced.

I frowned. “Someone? Did you get a name?”

Both girls bobbed their heads.

“He said his name is Beckett.” Amber placed a hand over her mouth to muffle another round of giggles.

“He’s really hot,” Jessa, the bolder of the pair, added. “Is he your boyfriend?”

“Definitely not,” I answered distractedly as I checked the time on my watch.

He was early.

I pinched the front of my gray tee and tugged, grimacing at the way the fabric clung to my shoulders. Sweat had seeped into the cotton, creating several dark patches across the chest and under the arms. Combined with a pair of black basketball shorts anda messy bun, it wasn’t exactly how I had pictured attending the meeting.

An image of the charcoal chinos and cream polo hanging in my office closet popped into my head. I had come prepared with a plan to shower and change before our introduction, but I had gotten wrapped up in the game and forgotten all about Beckett Shaw.

“Please tell him I’ll be with him soon.”

While I didn’t have time for a shower, I could at least wash my face and make myself presentable. I didn’t want to keep him waiting, but first impressions mattered, and I wanted this guy to like me.

At the very least, I wanted him to tolerate me enough topretendto like me for the next three months.

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