Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

DANE

Me: Morning. MadShroom or Don Julio's?

Lettie: Morning. It's too early for pizza.

Me: Have a good day at class. See ya after practice.

Lettie: You, too.

Why did I kiss Lettie? She didn't kiss me back, and she obviously only sees me as a friend. Now I have to figure out how to move on from the kiss. How her perfect lips tasted of salt from the pepperoni pizza. The fireworks provided me much-needed cover from my thoughts, except when they burst into a thousand pieces, my heart did too. We stayed in the friendzone too long, and we can't climb out of it .

It's been a few days since Timber Thrills, and I haven't seen her or talked to her on the phone. She said she wanted to give it a few days after breaking it off with Nick, but I wonder if she doesn't want to address the elephant in the room—the kiss.

I hope I didn't ruin sixteen years of friendship.

Devon throws me a wide-open dunk, and I don't see it. Just watch it sail over the rim, thinking about my best friend who's basically ignored me for days, complaining that she needs to study and train.

Coach Cappitano blows his whistle. "What the fuck was that, Greathouse?"

I shake my head. "Sorry, Coach."

"Get your head in the game."

"Yes, sir." But Lettie is still in the forefront of my mind. She'll be gone training and competing for the next month, so her professors have provided her work in advance.

It's not how I thought our senior year would start—with a nonexistent kiss and our good morning texts. Usually, Lettie and I go to Winchell's after the first Monday of class to eat lunch, then to see a movie and a trip to our favorite ice cream shop, Nibbles, where they mix in little pieces of your favorite candy into the ice cream.

Instead, it ends with Hannah texting, asking me out on a date. I decline, not wanting to give her the wrong idea. She seems to buy the excuse of having to concentrate on basketball. The fans have high expectations for the Stallions basketball team, and I can't afford to have a down y ear. My life goals are wrapped up in this season.

If I would have put my name in the proverbial hat for the NBA draft, I was projected to go in the top twenty. Two reasons keep me in college. Lettie and my dad's campaign. Well, my reason is Lettie. My dad's reason is less romantic, needing me to help him win the senate campaign.

Being the captain, after practice, I wind through the halls to the coach's office. Tapping on the door, he waves me inside. After a few seconds, he hangs up the phone.

"I just wanted to apologize for getting lost in practice today. It won't happen again."

"Dane…" He pauses. Coach leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees and rubbing his fingers together. "You don't have to be perfect, but you do have to be paying attention. Is your dad's campaign weighing on you?"

I lift my shoulders and let them fall quickly.

"You do know that it's his job to get elected, not yours. Your job is to play basketball and make grades."

As much as I want the full story between my dad and Coach, I realize he's a great coach and cares about me, so I say, "Yes, sir."

He blows out a breath. "How are things at The Stable? It seems the guys are pissed off at Nick. Is he fighting over someone's girl?"

I know the question is directed at me about Lettie. She's come to several of the unofficial practices where we s crimmage each other, so even the new coaching staff knows her.

"No, sir. He made an ass out of himself at Timber Thrills, but he apologized to the team."

He nods. "Well, let's not let girls distract us this season. We have all the pieces for a national championship, and I would hate for that to get derailed before the season starts… over a girl."

I'm fairly sure he's alluding to Lettie like there's some love triangle going on between us. There's no triangle. I love Lettie, and Lettie loves me, just not the way I want. Nick isn't even in the same conversation.

"No worries, Coach."

"Get out of here. I changed practice to Saturday morning. I know you have an important campaign event that night."

"Thanks." I'm my dad's big draw right now and wish I weren't. What I need is to fix what I've broken.

Coach's phone rings, and he waves me out with his hand.

I go back into the practice gym and call Lettie, getting her voicemail.

"Hey, just wanted to make sure you're still attending the campaign event with me on Saturday. Can't wait. I've missed you this week."

Grabbing a ball from the bin, I shoot twenty-five shots starting in the left corner, going 17 for 25. I move around the three-point line, hitting about the same average all the way around the horn. I'm the only one here, trying to work out my shit. But what seems to help the most is driving down the court, crossing over, before throwing down a monster dunk.

"You're My Best Friend" by Queen, which is Lettie's ringtone, sounds, so I tuck the ball under my arm and jog over to the phone.

"Hi," I say, clearing my throat.

"Hey, ummm… I don't have anything to wear to the fundraiser, and I need to study," Lettie's voice trails off, and I know what she's going to say.

"You promised if I went to Timber Thrills, you would come. There's no way am I letting you weasel your way out of it. Besides, my mom set an appointment for you at Chauncey's. She said she told you." I look up at the enormous digital clock on the wall to check the time. "Your appointment is at two. On my way."

I hang up before she can respond. Why is she avoiding me? I should just apologize for kissing her and try to get her out of my head. The locker room is empty, enabling me to shower and dress in record time.

When I pull up at her apartment, she's waiting on the sidewalk with a pair of heels in hand. I let out a sigh of relief.

"How was practice?" she asks.

"Good." Lie. I was thinking about you. "Coach noticed how everyone was treating Nick and asked me about it."

"What did you say?"

"Just that he acted like an ass at Timber Thrills." It's hard to swallow the lump in my throat, reminded that I kiss ed my best friend without permission.

"Has Nick mentioned me?"

"Nothing much." Except that he thinks you're hung up on me. Wow, does he have that wrong. If he only knew I got shot down too.

"Good, I don't have time for guys right now," she says as I open the door for her.

Lettie lets me down easy, with a sentence thrown into the wind, so we don't have a sincere conversation. When I get in and push start, she laughs. "Especially ones that pee in a public place."

I chuckle. "So… you have time for guys that have the decency to go inside a bathroom?" I glance at her as she taps her lip.

"Hmm. They would have a better shot."

Laying my hand on top of her knee, I pump it twice. "I'll miss you." Lettie has two Grand Prix Show Jumping competitions, and her new trainer wants her for a solid month to perfect her and her horse's form.

"There are plenty of girls to keep you company. It's only a month."

"I know, but this is triple the time." The longest we've been apart is ten days. "I wish you didn't have to go for two weeks before each event. And I wish I could be there to support you."

"Me too. But you want to be drafted first in the NBA, and my goal is to get enough points to make the Olympic Trials," she says, as she reaches behind me, rubbing my back. Her touch sends chill bumps up my neck and scalp. "Oh, stop. Stop. That little boy is selling lemonade. Isn't he cute? Remember when we would set up lemonade stands in the summer?" she asks, leaning forward.

Bringing the car to a stop, she jumps out, and the little boy beams with pride. "Would you like strawberry or regular?" he asks.

"We'll take two strawberry, please," she says.

The boy pours the drinks and recognition flashes over his face. "You're… you're Dane Greathouse. The best player in the nation. Why didn't you go to the NBA?"

Lettie pushes against my arm. "He couldn't leave me. He loves me too much."

The boy, probably around nine or ten, has black hair and deep mahogany eyes. "No wonder you stayed."

If a ten-year-old can see it, why can't she?