Page 12 of Fair Catch
Gavin didn’t seem soothed, but I pulled the chair out from the desk provided in each bedroom and turned it backward, sitting in front of him to change the subject.
“How are you feeling?” I asked. “Any better?”
When I found out NBU and a few other universities had their eyes on me, I made my brother give a pinky promise in return to the one I’d sworn more than two years ago now — that he’d go to the same college I did.
He started applying right away, putting in applications to every school that showed even a remote interest in me. And when NBU offered me the scholarship, my brother signed right alongside me, declaring it our new home, and even electing to start in the summer instead of the fall since I had to as a student athlete.
It was our first choice, anyway — since we’d grown up in a suburb not too far outside of Boston. It would be easy to go home and see our parents, and we wouldn’t have to battle the ungodly heat and humidity at the southern schools that had also been on the table at one point.
It would have been tough to play no matter where I went, but to go without Gavin?
It would have been impossible.
My twin shrugged, folding his arms over his chest. “Better. Not great, but better. I’m getting the hang for the campus, which ways are best to go and what times are busiest. I’m sure that will all change now with fall semester starting, though.”
“I still think you should get a—”
“If you say electric chair, I’ll wheel over your kicking foot.”
I smiled. “I’m just saying, it would be easier on your arms.”
“Are you kidding? These guns are just fine, thank you.” He held up his massive biceps then, kissing each one. “My lady magnets. They need the extra work if I’m going to land a hot girlfriend by Christmas.”
I rolled my eyes. “Are you sure she’ll be able to compete with your precious Angelina?”
I dropped my gaze to his garnet and gold wheelchair, a lightweight box chair that Mom and Dad had custom built for him. It was a high upgrade from the one our insurance had originally provided, one that our parents worked hard to be able to afford for him.
And then, after working and saving at our hometown grocery store for a year, Gavin saved up and bought a sports chair so he could play basketball.
It humbled him, when he started playing, having to maneuver not only a sport he hadn’t played much of, but doing so while in a chair. But it didn’t take him long to get the hang of it enough to start really competing. What started off as spending his nights and weekends playing in the wheelchair basketball youth league turned into him trying out for and making the Boston NWBA team — which was another perk for us staying in the city for college.
The kid never could sit still. He was also quite possibly the most optimistic, hardworking, and passionate person I’d ever known — and I loved him for it.
“Ah, it’s not Angelina they need to be jealous of. It’s Emily.”
Emily was the pet name for his sports chair, a bumblebee black-and-yellow beast that he named after the model he gave credit for his sexual awakening — Emily Ratajkowski.
“They don’t stand a chance,” I teased.
“I don’t know… some of them might. Have you gone down Greek Row?” He whistled. “I’m going to offer one of those Zetas a ride on my lap to the student union one of these days.”
I snorted a laugh, but before I could reply, the front door flew open, and Zeke swung in.
He was sweaty, the gray NBU athletic t-shirt he wore sticking to his wet chest as he slung his duffel bag on the couch. He’d cut the sleeves off and ripped the sides of the shirt down low so that his rib cage showed, and paired with his baggy basketball shorts worn low enough to showcase the top band of his briefs, he looked like a walking ad for Under Armour.
“Oh shit, we’re in trouble now,” Gavin teased, already wheeling over to greet his best friend.
I, on the other hand, rolled my eyes and turned my attention to the box on my bed, tearing the top flaps open as I started unpacking and ignored Zeke completely.
From the corner of my eyes, I saw Zeke bend down to greet my twin, the two of them embracing in a manly hug complete with a few hard claps on each other’s backs.
“Damn, bro, you look like shit,” Zeke said, clicking his tongue when he was upright again. “These college girls keeping you up too late?”
“What can I say? Can’t keep them off me.”
I resisted the urge to point out that my brother looked fatigued because he’d been traveling multiple miles a day in his chair to and from classes on campus all summer long in the heat, mostly because I knew this was just the way they were.
