Page 142 of Play Along

There’s a knock on my window that startles us both.

“Keep it moving,” the security guard says.

Cars are dipping in and out around us and it’s time for me to go.

Isaiah’s expression changes once again, and something I appreciate about him is that he’s easy to read. He wears his emotions on his sleeve, and it’s clear he doesn’t want me to go. But regardless, he knows I have to, so he gets out of the car, pops his trunk, and pulls out my suitcase. I join him, standing on the curb with him on the asphalt. It still does nothing for our height difference.

“So, I’ll see you soon then.” His words are even, emotionless, nonchalant.

I can read right through it. He doesn’t want to get hurt.

“Couple days.”

He lifts his hat, running a palm over his hair before replacing it. “Have fun. Be safe. Drink water.”

“All right, Mom.”

“Don’t forget about me,” he adds with a spark of humor, but his teasing grin quickly falls.

I couldn’t if I tried.

“Tomorrow before the game, if Sanderson is the one taping your wrists, make sure he does it the way I showed you. Because sometimes he does it too tight. If you need to, Facetime me pre-game, I can walk him through it—”

Isaiah’s teasing smirk is back.

I have yet to miss a game or practice since I started with the Warriors, and I’m having a serious case of apprehensiveness, knowing that tomorrow’s night game will be the first without me.

“I’m sure he’ll do fine,” I correct.

“He’s not you, that’s for damn sure. You’ll be missed, Kenny, and not just by me. The boys will miss seeing you at the clubhouse tomorrow too.”

“Don’t forget about me,” I repeat his words.

“I couldn’t if I tried.”

“Hey! Let’s go.” It’s the same security guard as before. “This is a drop-off zone. Get your car out of here.”

“I should...” I throw a thumb over my shoulder, gesturing towards the baggage drop off.

He nods in agreement but doesn’t say anything.

“Okay. So I’ll see you soon then?”

He nods again. “Couple days.”

The silence is awkward, neither of us knowing what to do, so I turn on my heel and walk towards the entrance, towing my suitcase behind me.

I might not have any concrete answers as to what’s happening between us, but it sure as hell isn’t this.

When I turn back, Isaiah’s head is dropped, hands in his pockets, rounding the car for the driver’s side door.

“Isaiah!” I call out to stop him.

When he lifts to look at me, it’s with so much hope.

“You know what I’ve never done before? One of those long, sweeping goodbye kisses at the airport.”

He tries to hold back his smile. “Is that so?”

---