Page 72 of On Merit Alone
“Yeah, because this issucha popular spot, what with the chained up fence and mandatory maintenance per use.” Moving slightly, he was suddenly pushing the gate open instead of holding it like some sort of weapon, pushing it apart wide enough for me to step through.
“Popular enough that we both know about it,” I mumbled as I stepped past him, purposely ignoring the way the brush of his chest along my shoulder made me flutter. Taking in the court as I stepped out onto it, I said, “What did you fix?”
He scratched at the back of his neck as he trailed behind me. “I just swept up a little. You?”
Dipping my hand into my gym bag I held up my offering with a sheepish look. “Extra ball.”
We both looked guilty as we met each other’s eyes, then laughed. Tipping his head back to the sky, Ira groaned a little. “I usually bring a new net or something. I even replaced the boards once. I just—tonight was a last minute decision.”
“Me too,” I said. Stripping my gym bag, I started scraping my braids up into a ponytail. “I promise I’m not one of those freeloaders who don’t give back to the court. Hate those guys.”
“Right?” he laughed. He eyed me as I went over to the pile of leaves and sand Ira had swept off the court and picked up the big push broom to go ahead and push it the rest of the way into the brush just outside the sidelines. Feeling like the freeloader I swore not to be though, I decided to sweep over the court another time for good measure. When I caught him looking at me, he smiled. “So you really do come around here? You know the rules and everything.”
I gave him an incredulous look. “You didn’t actually think I followed you here, did you?”
He raised a shoulder. “Hell of a coincidence.”
“You really are arrogant sometimes,” I guffawed. “It may be a big city, but it’s a small world, anyway. Crazier things have happened.”
“Crazier than us playing in the same stadium for years and never running into each other repeatedly until now?” he challenged, scooping up my ball and bouncing it absently. His laid-back demeanor meant nothing, though. Because his eyes were on me—staring, assessing, daring.
I said nothing else as I leaned the broom against the rock wall again, having done my civil duty as an occupant of the court. I was actively trying to avoid the heated sensation reflexively stirring in the bottom of my stomach. All a result of the warm sound of Ira’s voice tonight when I wasn’t expecting it.
“Thought you’d be shooting on that huge court you have at home. Not here of all places,” I said to break up the tension of his gaze.
He shrugged. “I like it here. Sometimes I need to get out, leave that house and ground myself, you know? That place, it’s a little…”
I don’t know how I knew what he meant without even hearing the words, but I did. His house seemed a bit much, even for him. And I understood what he meant about this place having a grounding effect.
I tilted my head, something I’d been wondering since I first visited his place entering my mind. “Why do you have that huge family home anyway?”
I hoped to God I didn’t sound weird asking. But judging by the way he snorted, I did. “Because I have a family, Six.Duh.”
I shrugged, the movement a direct ploy to distract myself from my stomach souring. I wouldn’t scold him for assuming, but... “Not everyone does, Ira.”
More staring. It was like he was trying to read between my lines while I was trying desperately to keep the fine print of my heart invisible, and I was great at it. I ignored his gaze so entirely, that I didn’t even hear him move.
“Six?”
I jumped at the proximity of that voice. He’d come up behind me and was leaning around my shoulder to try and get a look at me. I gave him my eyes. “Yeah?”
He extended the ball. “Wanna play?”
“Yeah,” I said, my eyes going from his face to the ball. I took it, dribbling up the court. Slowly, I skipped a little, letting my muscles loosen as I did.
I expected my first few shots to be a little iffy as I eased into warming up for the workout, but pretty soon into shooting, I found I was running into the same problem I had all day. Missing shots, low focus, low drive. Not to mention Ira wasn’t practicing anymore.He’d taken to watching me again. Which was also part of the problem.
Running up to rebound another shot that I missed, I whipped a look at him. “We can share the court, you know? You don’t have to stop.”
He shrugged, those eyes still zeroed in on me. “That’s okay. I came here to clear my head. Now that you’re here, it’s… not.”
I paused, the ball stalling between my hands as I frowned. My stomach plummeted. “Oh, I’m sorry. I can go if you need?—”
I had already started retreating when Ira’s hands fell over mine on the sides of the ball. He laughed awkwardly. “No, Six. No. That’s not what I meant.”
I looked up to him. I’d barely started to sweat, but my heart was already beating in a steady rhythm like I played a whole half. “What did you mean, then?”
“I meant that you’re kind of captivating when you play. You’re hard to look away from,” he said, his thumbs coming across the backs of my hands. “And I like watching you.”
