Page 9 of Anatomy of a Meet Cute
“I skimmed it,” Sam lied and choked back a laugh once she saw Duke’s face.
“I hope you read charts better than you read about our peers. So you want to join the league or not?”
Sam sighed. “Look, Duke. These days are long, and I already have a ton on my plate. I’m gonna pass. But maybe next season.”
“Please,” Duke said, drawing out theesound to impossibly long lengths. In another life, he must have been a singer. “We need at least one woman on our team to play in the league.”
Sam scoffed. “Thank you for your honesty. Did you ask Jehan?”
“Jehan would bring down the team’s average height by like five inches.” Duke rolled his eyes like Sam had asked a silly question. “I told Raphael I’d convince you to join the team before our rivals figure out there is a five-foot-eight woman in the building.”
“Jehan already said no, didn’t she?”
“Yeah, but she has a big party to plan and all that,” Duke said on an exhale. “Seriously, I know you made your high school state playoffs, so you are at least a half-decent point guard.”
“I know I didn’t put that in the orientation bio.”
“The internet is forever, Samantha. I know how to google, and I watched the clip of that last game. That was a tough loss, but you had a nice jumper in there.”
“A little tip: if you are trying to get me to join your team, maybe don’t bring up the most traumatic moments from my childhood.” Sam cringed. In some ways she’d been trying to live down that loss for over ten years.
Duke chuckled. “So will you please join us?”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve played.”
“It’s like riding a bike.” Duke shrugged at this profoundly bad lie, which Sam let slide for the sake of her living arrangement. Admittedly, she didn’t have as much time for exercise as she would like, so playing basketball with Duke would be a good forcing function. Now she could feel less guilty about all the runs she wasn’t going on. If she never made it out to the gym again, at least she’d have this.
“Fine.”
“Thank you!” Duke shouted as they rounded the corner into the staff area to pick up their bags. “First game is tonight. You won’t regret it.”
“Tonight? Bruh, we just finished a twelve-hour day. You couldn’t have mentioned that?”
“No takebacks,” Duke said, not looking the least bit sorry. “The good news is we have time to get home and get our stuff before we meet at the middle school.”
“You owe me.” Sam narrowed her eyes at him.
“I’ll do double chores next week.”
“You already owed me that.”
“Fine, double chores, and I’ll get you some of that washing tape, but not the kind with glitter.”
“Washi tape.” Sam smirked. “Anyone else play semipro ball or anything I should know about?”
“Nah. Between you and me, the SF Central Hoopers are gonna crush these other teams.”
Sam wasn’t sure if she was still in shape enough to make a layup, let alone crush anything. Duke might be confident, but she would settle for bench time and not pulling a hamstring tonight.
The giant gym bag knocked against Sam’s thigh as she tried to climb out of the heap of metal that was Duke’s car. Why on earth had she agreed to play basketball in her very limited time off when it was so painfully evident that every single bone in her body would rather be sleeping?
“Who are we playing again?” Sam called to Duke as he jogged toward the dingy gym, trying to outrun the pernicious San Francisco cold. It would never work, but that didn’t stop Duke from plodding away.
“The Central Flyers,” Duke said, yanking the door open and then waiting for her, tapping his toe in chilly impatience as she sauntered through it.
“Thank you.” Sam grinned up at him. It wasn’t Sam’s fault he was raised well enough to hold a door but not well enough to remember his own jacket. “Central Flyers. What kind of name is that? Were all the good names taken?”
“There are only four teams in the league, so I doubt it.” Duke chuckled, stomping his sock-and-sandal-clad feet as the smell of old chlorine and sweat wafted down the hallway.
