Page 44 of The Perfect Steal

They passed to the same girl I was guarding again, and I did everything I could to stall her without touching her with my hands. A swat at the ball knocked it loose from her, and I grabbed it, ready to dribble to our net.

The whistle blew again. “Foul, number eighteen.”

I watched as the scorekeeper held up her hand with her five fingers displayed. “That’s five. You’re done for the night.”

I gritted my teeth, wanting to scream at the referee but knowing how something so small could hurt me in the long run. One of the girls on the team last year had gotten so many technical fouls that she’d been kicked off the team.I needed basketball for my sanity and knew I wouldn’t do well with sitting out for too many games in a row.

Taking a seat next to one of the other girls, I slid my face into my hands, rubbing back and forth as if that would make this horrible nightmare disappear.

The crowd counted down with the clock, and I didn’t even look up, knowing I didn’t want to see the end result just yet.

The buzzer blew for the last time, and my insides sank, bummed that we’d lost when the game was this close.

Our team shook hands with the other team, and as much as I wanted to avoid it, I thanked the refs, making sure the one who’d fouled me out knew how I was feeling right then. I might not have been the key to winning or losing, but I hated sitting on the bench.

Packing up my gear and changing my shoes, I was ready to head out and drown myself in a bowl of ice cream.

“Hey, Brynn,” Penny said, coming to my side. I was drenched in sweat and grateful she hadn’t tried to give me a hug. “Tough loss, girl.”

I tried to smile, not wanting to be a sad sack in front of my friends and their boyfriends.

“Thanks for coming, guys. It means a lot.” It did at the beginning of the game, but now I just wished I could sink into a hole and hide.

The group left, and Nate came up to me. “Sorry about the loss, Brynn. That last steal you had would’ve been perfect had the refs not called the foul.” He smiled, the slight crinkle of the scar on his face highlighting the smile even further.

“Thanks,” I said, strolling out the doors. “I thought I had the ball clean, but oh well.”

We walked in silence, and when I made it to my car, I noticed his Hummer was parked right next to me. Not sure what to say next, I turned and said, “Thank you for coming. It was fun to see everyone in the stands, minus the fact that I fouled out.”

Nate shrugged. “You played well. But I get it. It’s nice to have others watching you.” He paused and then glanced up, his eyes going wide. “I mean that when people come to watch me, it gives me a little more motivation to do well, ya know?”

I nodded, surprised at how flustered he looked. This wasn’t the Nate I’d expected from the past eight months, but I had to admit that I loved all the changes. He’d been so sweet, but had the crazy that was my family turned him off? Then again, he was standing out here, still talking to me.

He turned his head slightly, and I noticed a line of whipped cream near his ear.

“Just a second,” I said, leaning forward with my thumb extended. After I wiped it away, I stepped back, a little surprised that I’d even done that. His skin was soft, and I might have taken an extra-long look at his lips, trying to decide what it would be like to kiss him. “You had, uh, a little leftover whipped cream.”

Nate chuckled. “I can imagine that. I was covered in the stuff. Kate and her ideas to pump up the crowd, right?”

“Looked like a good competition. I wish I could have seen the rest of it.” Was I flirting now? This was Nate Everton, and he had plenty of attention from girls at Rosemont. And yet, my insides flipped every time he was around, the internal excitement level going up several notches.

“I’m just glad Dax beat us all out for it.” He stopped, shifting from one foot to the other. After clearing his throat, he asked, “So, uh, what’s your relationship with Park?”

“Garrett Park?” I asked, wondering where this was going. “You sound like my father trying to be fatherly for once.”

That was harsh. My father was normally very attentive, but he’d never been good at beating around the bush. Just like the smooching comment the other day, there was never any chitchat and he always got to the point.

Nate ran a hand through his hair. “I was just curious. He seemed kind of jealous that we’ve been hanging out lately.” There was no smile, no joke about the whole thing. Was he interested in me? Brynn Miller, the girl who could have her own zip code in the sky?

Turning to my car, I said, “I don’t think you should have to worry about him, Nate.”

Without another glance, I turned on my car, thankful that for once it started on the first try. I drove off, watching his expression in the mirror. It was a mixture of relief and curiosity, which told me he was somewhat interested in me.

A girl could dream, anyway.

28

Nate

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