Page 118 of Heartache Duet

“Then I’ll bring it back down.”

Her watch beeps, and she gets to her feet. “Time’s up.”

Moaning, I stand, catch the ball she throws at my chest.

“Where were you?” she asks, pointing to the three-point line.

“What do you mean?”

She stands around the area where I made my choke shot. “Was it here?”

“About, yeah.”

She motions for me to join her at that spot, and so I do. I stand there while she walks off the court.

“Shoot your shot,” she says.

I chuckle. “I’m still kind of drunk.”

“Do it anyway.”

I shoot, sink it.

She grabs the ball, throws it back. “Again.”

I do it again.

She returns the ball to me. “Again.”

I make the next five shots. Miss one. Then sink the next two.

When I’m done, she takes possession of the ball and holds it to her hip. “Nine out of ten and you’re drunk, Connor,” she states.

“So, what you’re saying is that I should’ve made the shot, because I know this, Karen. But thanks for reminding me.”

“No.” She shakes her head. Adamant. “What I’m saying is that you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.” She throws the ball back.

Dribbling lazily, I retort, “You’re just quoting Wayne Gretzky, and that’s hockey—”

“Shut up,” she laughs out. “Now I’ve forgotten my point. It was going to be something amazing about 90% of the shots made or… something.”

“I get your point,” I say through a chuckle. “And I appreciate what you’re saying, even if it doesn’t really make sense.”

She rolls her eyes and moves toward me, hands out asking for the ball. I throw it to her and step aside as she takes over my position. She sinks a three-pointer effortlessly. “Damn. Skills much?”

Her eyes narrow. “You know I’m captain of the girls’ basketball team, right?”

“I didn’t even know we had a girls’ basketball team.”

* * *

She asked for no mercy during our one-on-one, so I beat her 21-3. I do a celebratory Steph Curry dance around her. She smirks, then says, “Hey, who am I?” She drops to the ground, on her back, and looks up at the sky. “Boo hoo. I missed a three-pointer under immense pressure, and now my life is over. Wahhh.”

I stand over her, brows bunched. “You’re kind of a bitch.”

“I kind of know this already.”

I lie down next to her, the ball between us, and stare up at the darkness above.

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