Page 71 of On Merit Alone
“Here” was a basketball court almost completely made into rock. With walls the size of hills and the color of foreign clay—not to mention the large stone steps that bracketed the west side of the court in a zigzagging funnel-like configuration—the rock amphitheater turned court was an amazing part of the city not many knew about. It was also one of the first places I’d found when I moved here. I liked to visit it when I was feeling similar to how I’d felt back then.
Confused. Scared of change.New.
It was weird that back then I’d felt all the same things that Ira was making me feel today for an entirely different reason. That night I’d set out to find something new, unlike I’d ever seen before. When I stumbled upon the old, abandoned amphitheater court, I stumbled onto something that was forgotten but still stood strong—sort of like myself. I had been coming back ever since.
Now, every time something big happened, every time there was change in the air that I felt too withered or broken or unprepared for, I came to the chained away courts and wiggled my way past the gates.
The amphitheater was old, but it obviously got used during the daytime judging by the loose bolts on the rickety gate and the hoops that continued to be maintained. Apparently years ago, a newamphitheater court was built further down the rocks and this one became forgotten to most.
The city had stopped upkeep on it, but they hadn’t stopped wiring electricity to the large post lights that hovered above the courts. They also left brooms and other maintenance materials behind. So it was an unspoken rule to those of us who came to this spot to do our part to maintain the court—sweeping off dust, rehanging the nets, or even repainting the lines for those more dedicated.
Tonight, I’d come with the offering of an extra ball since I didn’t have time to plan ahead for a net change and didn’t have the skills to fix anything else up. I also planned on sweeping off any dust or debris that accumulated too. Now though, as I heard the definite sounds of shoes scuffling on court, the swish of the net, and the bounce of a decently inflated ball, I contemplated even playing here at all.
Chewing my lip, I stalled at the gate. I had no idea who was around the corner of the large rock wall, but what would I do if it was a man? I wasn’t usually intimidated easily, but being in a dim, lowly populated area in the middle of the night where no one could hear me scream was not my idea of practicing safety either.
Plus, if Ryan found out about it, he’d murder me. Even if I was already murdered, he’d resuscitate me just to finish the job himself.
But what if it was a girl? It didn’t make it inherently less dangerous, but it did make the chances of me freaking out that much lower. Tiptoeing forward, I decided to take a peek. My fingers gripped the chain link fencing as I leaned onto my toes to take a look onto the court.
While I was expecting to see some neighborhood guy with rec ball form and slow sloppy movements, my eyes were almost assaulted with the sight of a wide muscular back and swift athletic steps.
It was a guy, but rather than someone bulky or scary looking like I’d imagined in the dramatic murder scenarios, he was tall and lean. Clad in thin fitting joggers, a loose long-sleeve and a head of cropped curls overtop a fade. And if his white shoes with familiar red accents weren’t enough to tip me off, the way he moved across the court like a graceful bird taking flight or a forest animal through the trees—in his element and lethal to all prey—was enough to seal the deal.
I knew this person. I knew him from the first movement he made. Idefinitelyknew the way he hooked his hand, letting his wrist linger in the air as he watched a three point shot from just outside the dusty line go sailing through the basket.
Ira.
What was he doing here? Why was he everywhere I seemed to be? And why did he have to look so good in everything he did?
That lip I had bitten, I was gnawing now. I was torn. I could turn around and leave right now. I came here to forget the way he was making me feel after all. If I went out there, I would just be subjecting myself to feeling those same feelings. Maybe even worse as there was no one else around to cut in if things got too… us.
I should go. That would be the smart thing to do, but even as my head mapped out the right path for me to leave, my heart was fighting for me to stay as I stood there and continued to watch him make shot after shot.
Fed up with my shit, the universe decided for me, causing my hand to lose grip on the fence. I stumbled a step out of my hiding spot.
Ira’s next shot fumbled, catching air as he turned hard in my direction. “Yo, who’s there?”
I froze.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
If I didn't show myself, he’d think it was some crazy, creeper stalker and he might call the authorities. But if I did show myself… then what?
“Hello?” he called again. I whipped my gaze upward at the sound of him much closer than before. Seconds later, I found myself stumbling backward as I heard footsteps pounding right in front of me. “Hey, what’s going?—”
I squeaked, my footing going wobbly as a strong arm ripped the gate wide open. I would have probably busted my ass if it weren’t for the solid wall of rock that caught my fall.
“Oh shit, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to… Six?” Ira dropped his hand from the fence and took a step forward, his head ducking as he peeked at me in the dim light. By this point, I was covering my mouth with my hand, trying to mask any other embarrassing sounds that might slip out. But he was already getting even closer, his face morphing from that stern serious frown to something more relaxed. Something loose and warm. Something I recognized as mine. He laughed into his words, his cutest smile coming out. “It is you. What are you doing out here?”
I blinked. Unsure what to say.
He lifted an eyebrow. “Ah, right. Stalking again.”
I dropped my hands. “I didn’t follow you here, if that’s what you think.”
“Sure,” he said, his smile growing wider.
My jaw dropped. “Ira, I didn’t!”
