Page 3 of Foul Line

My dad inches forward on the couch, the remote in one hand, and leans toward the TV screen. The gun goes off, and the runners jump out of the blocks. They lean forward at first, then one after the other, they move into a straight up and down gait as they sprint toward the finish line. It’s already apparent that the guy they all predicted to win is going to do so by a longshot. It is impressive.He’simpressive.

I’m blown away by athletes time and time again. The thing is, I know it takes a hell of a lot of work to get this far. People seem to think athletes like this guy just get up one day and they’re suddenly running as fast as Usain Bolt. Wrong. It takes fitness. It takes dedication. This guy literally eats and breathes running. If he didn’t, they’d never be saying these things to him.

“Alright,” my dad says as the guy crosses the finish line first. The runner holds his hands in the air while he slows down on his own time, the victory of the race clear on his face.

I turn toward my dad. “I got my fifty-yard time down.” This was something him and I have been working on for a while.

He beams at me. “That’s great, Pumpkin. You practicing at the track?”

I nod, a little taken aback that he seems surprised I’m still working out at the track. Just because he left didn’t mean I stopped our routine. “Thought I’d see you out there sometime, but I guess you’re getting a little too old for that.”

He laughs. “I’ll meet you out there, Miss Thing. It’ll have to be after camp, but I’ve got to see this new time.”

I keep smiling for him, but inside, my heart is breaking a little. We used to go to the track on our own. It was our schedule. All that is gone since he moved out. I don’t even know if he’s even been playing ball anymore, to be honest. I have to think he is. It’s not like Timothy Dale to give up shooting baskets, even if it’s for fun. Basketball is his first love.

“Tim,” Ryan’s mom calls out from the kitchen.

His head snaps up. “Yeah?”

“Can I get your help setting the table? And Tessa, would you mind getting Ryan?”

My heart freefalls into my stomach. My dad glances over at me, his expression intense as he studies me. I get right to my feet even though they wobble a little. “Of course. Where is he?”

My dad stands up much slower. He points down the only hallway in the house. “First door on the left.” He’s scrutinizing me now. I have no doubt I can convince my father that I’m okay. He doesn’t even know who I am anymore. He was there for me through the basketball season. We exchanged words about the WNBA scout, about the panty crown, about riding the bench, but basketball is the only way my father knows how to be a father. He doesn’t know how to ask me if seeing Ryan Linc right now is going to fuck me up. He doesn’t know how to make sure I can handle seeing the guy who put the final nail in my coffin a few months ago. No Ballers. No basketball. No life.

It’s okay that he doesn’t know because I won’t let the truth show anyway.

My heart thumps in my chest. I follow the new carpet right into the hallway, past the kitchen, and to the very first door. It’s so dark in the hallway, I can only make out a few other doors besides Ryan’s. He has a Lakers poster covering most of it, the star player dunking the ball. I met the guy once at one of Dad’s basketball functions. He was kind of a douche. But everyone has a bad day now and then, so it’s impossible to tell if he really is a douche or if he was just having one of those days. It goes to show you that one moment can solidify people’s opinions of you.

The door is slightly ajar, so I knock a couple times and then push it open like I belong there. Ryan immediately looks up, his eyes widening. He has a pair of Beats on, huge blue ones that cover his ears. His gaze narrows as he pulls them down. I smile. “Hey. Your mom wanted me to come get you for dinner.”

“How long have you been here?”

I shrug, the pulse at my wrist feathering. I’m putting on a brave face but seeing Ryan like this is affecting me. “Not long. Watched a little TV with my dad.”

He sits up and swings his feet to the floor. He pulls the Beats all the way off and sets them on his nightstand. The new carpet is in here, too. While he doesn’t say anything, I look around. Even though I’ve been in Ryan’s house three times now, I’ve never been anywhere except for the kitchen and the dining room/living room. There’s more basketball memorabilia in here, trophies and awards. There’s even a picture of all five Ballers tucked into the mirror above his dresser.

This makes my false bravado snag a little. I hadn’t prepared myself to see Alec and Sloan today, even if only in a picture. From the looks of it, it can’t be that old. In fact, I think it’s from this year’s championship game.

I make myself look away and right into Ryan’s gray eyes. He’s staring at me, his eyes traveling down the length of my body. Suddenly, I wish I had worn something more than just a plain tank top and shorts. Maybe a push-up bra with a shirt that showed my cleavage.Why, though? Do Iwantto tempt him?

I think on that for a second as he continues his perusal. I don’t think I want to tempt him. I just want to know if he’s tempted. His face is so stoic, it’s hard to get a read on him. The moment in the shower returns. Me, freaking naked. Him, dripping blood down his knuckles from attacking Chase for me. I shouldn’t say for me. It wasn’t for me. They did it for themselves. They did it because they wanted complete control over me, and they got it.

Nonchalantly, I lean against his door frame and push the other thoughts aside. “You ready for camp?” I noticed an open gym bag in the corner when I checked his room out earlier. Since camp is the reason why we’re all here, I might as well bring it up now.

His eyes flare with something I can’t quite put my finger on before he turns away, his gaze stopping on the same bag. “Yep. Just need to throw the last-minute things in tomorrow morning.”

I open my mouth to say something else, but Ryan’s mom calls out, “Hey, you two. Dinner’s on the table.” Both he and I stare at one another again. I don’t like the sound of ‘hey, you two’. I have no idea why Ryan’s face suddenly turned pissy, but maybe that’s it for him as well.

He stands from the bed, and I quickly step out of his room and into the hall. Once I’m out of his line of sight, I feel like I can actually breathe. It feels as if I faced down a dragon and got to see the other side. I’m lucky.

Camp won’t be so bad now. I saw Ryan and the world didn’t implode, so I can see the rest of them tomorrow morning. I can go through camp with them again just like I’ve been doing since I was in middle school. The position I’m in right now isn’t new to me. The Ballers never liked me, so this is already ventured territory. No big deal.

The big deal only comes when I sit across from Ryan at the dinner table. It comes when everything seems so normal and the conversation flows so easily that I almost forget that I’m just pretending, and that for all I know, he is too.

We don’t want you, he’d said. I swallow hard as the swarm of hurt hits me in the chest once again.

I’m pretty sure that means he also doesn’t want me eating dinner with him and his mom, which only makes me try harder. I ask so many questions about the Linc’s and about Ryan when he was little, that when I finally look back over at Ryan at the end of dinner, he’s scowling and miserable, just the way I want him.

---