Page 38 of Something Borrowed, Something You

The announcer came on to call the starting lineup. Hunter and I stood and cheered when they called Izzy’s name. She looked up at the stands and half smiled at us before her eyes shifted a couple of rows up, and suddenly the lame smile she graced us with turned beaming while she waved to someone else. Both Hunter and I followed her line of sight to a tall boy of Indian descent sitting alone on the top row.

“Who’s that?” Hunter thumbed toward the top bleacher when we turned back around. He’d only met her once, but there was a protective tone in his voice nonetheless.

I sighed. “It must be Yakshit. The boy she has a crush on.”

Hunter shook his head and grumbled, “Why did I even ask?”

“You hit sixty percent of your free throws,” Hunter said to Izzy. “You have a great shot. But you can definitely do better. You’re flicking the ball with your thumb on your guide hand as you take your shot, which is making it spray left.”

“Coach said the same thing.”

“Have you tried squeezing your thumb and index finger on your guide hand together?”

“I’ve tried, but I forget when I’m in a game.”

“You need a shooting strap. Back to basics. A J-strap and at least fifty extra free throws a day after practice until you do it automatically without the strap on in a few weeks. I can grab you one.”

“Okay! What else?”

I looked at the time on my phone—it was almost seven thirty. We’d walked around the corner to a coffee shop after the game so Hunter could give Izzy his thoughts. But the game ran late, going into overtime, and Hunter had to excuse himself for a business call that took close to a half hour as soon as we arrived. Now, I only had a half hour before my date, and it would take me that long to get Izzy home and get back to where I was supposed to meet Marcus.

Hunter caught me watching the clock and smirked. I wouldn’t put it past him to have sat outside for a half hour without really having anyone to speak to.

“Excuse me for a minute. I need to make a call of my own,” I said.

I stepped outside and pushed Marcus to eight thirty with an apology. It would cut the date short, because I didn’t like to leave Izzy alone at night for long and always liked to be heading home by ten. I could have postponed, but I refused to give Hunter that satisfaction.

When I returned to the table, Hunter stood. “Are we keeping you from your date?”

I flashed him a sugary smile. “No, I pushed it back a half hour.”

Hunter and Izzy went back to basketball talk as I sat.

“When you’re shooting from long range—three-pointer distance—you should drop your elbow to get more power behind your shot.”

“I thought I was.”

“Not enough. You’re also leaning forward. Here, let me show you.” He stood and held out his hand. “Natalia?”

I reluctantly put my hand in his. He helped me slip out of the booth and turned me around so my back was facing him. Gripping my hip in one hand, he used the other to control my arm. I was essentially his puppet.

“You’re releasing here.” He stopped my hand above my head.

Without realizing it, I had leaned forward, following my extended hand. Hunter ran his fingers down my side, outlining the arch my torso had formed. Chills broke out all over.

“See how she’s naturally bending here? Now watch her stance when she releases earlier.”

He again controlled my arms to mimic throwing a ball, but stopped my hand a little lower for a simulated release. Again, he ran his hand down my side. Only this time, he went slower. Izzy was so enthralled with the knowledge and advice he was sharing, she didn’t seem to see anything other than shot counseling going on. But, God, I felt it.

“See? No arch,” he said as his hand reached my hip. “When’s your next game?” he asked as we sat back down.

“Thursday night.”

“Sorry, I won’t be able to make that one. How about after that?”

“We have a game Saturday morning. But it’s an away game in Westchester.”

“Work on what we talked about. I’ll be at that one.”

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