Page 34 of Billion Dollar Dispute

No. Stop.

My heart pounds harder, my breaths becoming ragged as I struggle to maintain control. I shuffle uncomfortably on the bench, irritated at how my body reacts despite everything. The boys are busy playing, but all I can focus on is how my skin feels too hot, how I can’t stop thinking about him. It’s frustrating, especially since I want nothing to do with guys, especially not ones like Harvey Lincoln.

Chad scores. And when Harvey grabs the ball, he says, “The next person to score has to buy the winner a treat,” grinning mischievously.

I don’t like where this is going because it feels like he knows he'll win, and he gets to buy us more food, spending his money like he was born to do.

“You’re going to lose.” Chad gives Harvey the cutest sour look. He tries to pull the ball out of Harvey's hand, and I watch as Harvey doesn’t let him have it. Yeah, he really doesn’t have kid etiquette. Most people would give the kid the ball, but Harvey doesn't. He smiles and shoots the ball through the net with ease.

“You suck,” Chad announces, to which Harvey chuckles and jogs to him, ruffling his hair.

“Come on, don't be like that,” he replies, again lacking the talk-to-kid rule. “It was a good game. Ready to celebrate?” Harvey asks.

Chad huffs. “Fine.”

The boys walk side by side over to me, and the vision has my heart racing.

This reminds me of what a positive male influence could do for him… Something I can’t provide, no matter how much I wish I could.

“No treat,” I say, trying to gain some control of the situation.

“Why not?” Chad asks, frowning, his eyes pleading for a reward.

“Because I said so.” I feel a pang of guilt for saying no.

“How about your mom has to shoot and score for me to lose?”

I die inside because I’m so bad at sports.

“I can’t,” I murmur, embarrassed.

“Why?” Harvey asks.

“She's not good,” Chad says matter-of-factly, unintentionally adding to my embarrassment.

“She can’t be that bad,” Harvey says, his tone playful yet challenging.

“Wanna make a bet?” I look at the basket that doesn’t look too high and hope for a miracle. I've tried once before, and I wasn’t too far off. If it means I get rid of Harvey today, then I’ll try.

His eyes shine with excitement. “Yeah.”

“You can’t buy us anything if I get it in,” I announce.

“You're confident you can, even after what your son said?” Harvey asks with evident amusement.

Determination floods my veins as I toss his shirt in his face, momentarily obscuring his vision before he laughs and frees himself. I grab the ball and march over to the court, silently pleading for it to go in.

Come on, please make this day end.

I try to calm my shaky hands. Remembering my dad’s tips on how to shoot,stand with your feet shoulder width apart.

But before I can, Harvey steps up behind me, his presence steady and warm. “Okay, feet shoulder-width apart,” he says gently, placing a hand on my shoulder to guide me. “Focus on the shot. Don’t rush it.”

The heat of his touch lingers as he moves his hand to my wrist, adjusting it ever so slightly. “Now bend your knees a little more. Nice and smooth.”

His fingers graze mine for just a second as he steps back.

With a deep breath and a steady hand, I adjust my feet, and then I throw it. The ball sails through the air, and my hope shatters when it hits the ring and bounces back toward us.Shit.

---