Page 45 of Better Than the Movies
There was something sweet in the way they moved from foes to friends, from athletic rivals to simple teenage boys, the minute that the metaphorical whistle blew the game over.
“Whatcha smilin’ at?”
I jumped and my hand flew up to my heart before yanking the buds from my ears.
I turned my head at an awkward angle to see Michael standing beside me and looking down at my face.
“You scared me!”
“Sorry.” He gave me a little smile, and my stomach flipped all the way upside down. His blond hair was sweaty on the outer fringes, but it was like the sweat worked as a gel and held all the spiky parts in place. His eyes were warm as he said, “You looked so happy, just sitting there with your earbuds in. I shouldn’t have disturbed you.”
“Oh, that’s okay.” I tucked my hair behind my ears and said, “I, um, I just love…”
Lord knows I didn’t love sports, so I waved my hands, gesturing around the gym, hoping that would suffice and save me from another fib.
“Wanna shoot around?” He was smiling down at me, and Inoticed that he reallydidhave great hair. He actually could be a hair hero if that were a real thing.
“I’m terribly uncoordinated,” I said, and I caught a glimpse of Wes in my peripheral vision. I made the mistake of turning my head in his direction, and he gave me a double thumbs-up with a cheesy smile and eyebrow waggle.
Oh, for the love.
Michael dribbled and said, “You can’t be that bad.”
I returned my attention to him and said, “Isocan.”
“Come on.” He stopped dribbling and held out a hand to pull me up. “I’ll help your shot.”
I grabbed his hand, and warmth shot through my every molecule as he pulled me to my feet. I followed him as he dribbled toward the open hoop, and as soon as we got close, he let a shot fly and it went in. I got the rebound and he said, “Let’s see your shot.”
It hit me at that second that we could be about to have a movie moment. I gave him a smile and said, “Here goes nothing.”
Of its own accord, “Paradise” by Bazzi started in my head.
This shit feel like Friday nights
This shit make me feel alive—
I released, and watched my hard-core airball fail majorly. As in, the ball flew many, MANY feet short and to the side of the basket. When I started to laugh, Michael just smiled at me, and the look on his face was so charming, it made me want to write a poem.
Instead I said, “Are you biting the inside of your cheek so you don’t laugh?”
He narrowed his eyes. “You can see that?”
“I see all, young Michael.”
He gave me an adorably playful look and said, “It’s actually ‘Michael Young.’?”
“Oh, yes,” I said, “That’s right.”
“Well.” He retrieved the ball and bounced it through his legs, giving me a half smile that made me a bit light-headed. “If you can see all, you can probably see that Wesley kind of has a thing for you.”
The song stopped with a record scratch.
“Pft—whaaat? No,” I stalled. Even though I knew this was the angle we were playing, I pictured Wes on the day when he’d dragged a rusted old truck bumper into The Spot just so I couldn’t park there. If Michael only knew the half of it.
“I’m telling you, Liz.” He passed me the ball, and I actually caught it. “The boy told me.”
Oof.Suddenly the lie wasn’t as easy to manage as I’d thought it would be. Wes had already talked to him? What was I supposed to say again? I bounced the ball, focusing on not letting it get out of control. “Oh. Um. IlikeWes, but only as a friend.”
