Page 28 of Shot Taker

“Don’t get into a fight,” I tell Miles, referring to the guy he almost hit when I was approaching.

“Because you’re the poster boy for following the rules.” He smirks.

Of the guys in the Kodiaks, when I need to talk to someone, it’s Jay I go to. But since I’ve been keeping this secret about LA, we don’t talk as much as we used to.

He knows there was something going on with me and Nova, just like he knows I haven’t wanted to talk about it since she left.

On the other hand, Miles and I have been on the same team for two years, and we’ve joked around but never talked about anything serious. I respect his talent and work ethic. He looks as frustrated as I feel, nursing a beer and glaring across the crowd.

“What happened on the court tonight?” I ask, for something to do that’s not watching Nova.

“I’ve been working my ass off, pulling double workouts in the gym, but it’s not coming together. Rookie comes in, and it’s nothing. The guy fucking farts and the ball goes in.” He waves with both hands and my mouth twitches.

“You know when you get to a spot on the court and you’re half a beat late. The perfect shot’s not perfect unless you’re there at the right moment.”

He eyes me. “You’re always there at the right time.”

It’s against my nature to be self-deprecating—you wanna be the best, you gotta start by believing you are before anyone else does—but Miles needs a cheering section and apparently Jay’s been sucked onto the dance floor via some Mariah Carey remix I’m gonna have to have surgically removed from my brain.

So, I say, “I had a rough patch in college. Nothing I did could fix it. My sister was sick, and I took a week out to visit her. At the time, I resented her for taking me out of it.”

“That’s cold.”

Don’t I know it.

But I figured the best way I could be there for her was to make it and provide for her.

Now, she’s in graduate school, dating a professor who’s older than I am, and flips me off anytime I insist on sending her money.

I motion for another shot of tequila.

“Kicker is, the time out helped,” I admit. “You can change your arc, your angle, your rotation, but you can’t force the perfect timing.” I remember the days in the hospital, the group chats about practices I was missing, the increasingly frustrated texts from my coach until I finally caved. “When I came back, my problems were solved.”

“All of 'em?”

I take the drink from the bartender and toss it back, feeling the alcohol burn through my system. “Not the acne.”

Miles howls with laughter. “You’re a decent guy when you’re like this. All existential and shit.”

The song changes again, the beat vibrating through my shoes as my attention tracks the dance floor.

Alcohol throbs in my bloodstream, the two drinks making me less guarded than usual.

“Are you into Nova?”

If Miles is surprised by the question, he doesn’t show it. He nods to the beat before lifting a shoulder. “She’s really cool. What do you want me to say?”

It’s my nature to not give a shit about anything.

But I care about this.

“Say no.”

Miles laughs. “Fine. But only because it’s you.”

I exhale, and my gaze tugs back to Nova dancing with Brooke. “You think if you missed your chance to do something, you get another shot?”

“Only if you’re smarter the second time around.”

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