Page 1 of The Wrong Move

PROLOGUE

GIANA

I can’t tearmy gaze away from him.

Caught up in the excitement, I shiver as tingles shoot along my spine. The screams surround me, reminding me I’m not his sole admirer.

He bunches his jersey in his hand mid-torso.

Byron is nervous.

His broad smile hides it, and he laughs in his defender's face. Not quite his face, as he is almost a foot shorter than his opponent. The same opponent he just dropped a three-pointer on to give us a two-point lead.

Us.

Euphoria fills me every second I’m with him. Over the last year, we have become closer, confiding in each other, our dreams and our fears, and our parents’ expectations. But none of it matters right now, as the clock is counting down to the last seconds of the game. Our high school basketball team has neverbeen invited to the championships. Who knew a tenth grader could lead us to our first?

We steal the ball from the visiting team, and Byron sprints down the court, one arm raised high, wanting the pass. The ball is thrown in the air. Byron leaps higher than his opponent and grabs the ball. He shoots while still in the air, and the crowd gasps in unison as the clock ticks down.

The ball swishes through the net.

Standing beside our friends, I jump up and down, screaming like we won the lottery. In high school basketball terms, we have.

“We’re going to the championships!” Paige yells, holding my shoulders and jumping up and down like she’s on an invisible pogo stick.

Mason leans in and hugs us. “I knew he could do it.” We all lean our foreheads together, proud of our friend.

We break apart, still smiling, and I find Byron dwarfed by his teammates. The smallest and skinniest player on the court has more determination than the rest of his team combined.

Byron has had to work harder than all the other players. Focused and ready to give up everything just to play ball, he started the season only getting a few minutes a game, and now he’s a starting-five player. With two more years of high school, he has time to improve and be offered a college basketball scholarship.

The crowd sings the school anthem as the players jump about in a circle, arms linked over each other’s shoulders as they chant their team motto and the referees shake the coaches’ hands. Then the players disperse, some going to their girlfriends for a hug on the sideline and others waving to their parents, who have been shouting and cheering them on. Byron has neither—no girlfriend and his parents rarely attend games. A high school final is not a priority for them. He only has usandthe entire school backing him.

He rips off his jersey and swings it around his head revealing his scrawny midsection and protruding ribs. I don’t care that he doesn’t have the muscled body of the senior players. He’s my friend, and I’m proud of him.

Please look up. Look at me. I’m here for you.

Grabbing a towel from the bench, Byron wipes his face before wrapping it over his shoulders. He glances up into the crowd toward our seats and waves to Mason.

Mason points his finger at him and holds it up as if to say number-one player. Byron grins, and I let out a sigh. My heart swells with something else, something I feel in my bones.

I am here for you, Byron. Look at me.

Byron scans the crowd, smiling as fans shout his name, my hands still clapping in beat to the team’s chant. Then his gaze finds mine. It’s as though he heard me calling his name in my head.

Byron stills. The intensity of his gaze steals my breath, and I stop midclap. A slight approving smile parts his lips as he nods subtly. Our interaction lasted mere seconds, yet it was enough to send heat to my core, to excite me more than the win. The team gathers around Byron, and our moment is lost.

Paige side-bumps me. “Someone is getting laid tonight,” she sings in my ear.

“Stop it,” I snap. “He doesn’t think of me like that.”

Paige’s pinched eyebrows portray confusion. “You’re the one girl he trusts and wants to be with…”

I turn my attention back to the court. My body tingles, her words not lost.

Sex.

We have hugged, trusted each other with our secrets, talked about our future dreams, and reminded each other dreams are that of the brave.

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