Page 26 of Kicking It with the Point Guard

I used to worry about him, but after seeing him speed across the ice and beat up on a few people, my worries lessened. He’s wearing padding under his jersey to protect him from the worst of it.

He shakes his head at me, we’re cooling off just lazily shooting around. I step just outside of the three point line and pull up to shoot. The ball an extension of myself. The satisfying swish of the net as the ball falls through it relaxes me.

Basketball is an escape. I tried every sport when we were growing up, following Oscar around. Or more like being drug to every tryout by him. I was okay at baseball and tennis, but I didn’t love them. Soccer, hockey, and football were immediate no’s. Oscar laughed at me when we had to put all the padding on for football tryouts. They swallowed me.

But then I found basketball. It soothed something in me that I didn’t realize was unsettled.

As we got older, our interests kept us from spending as much time together as we did when we were kids. If Oscar wasn’t around to make a crappy day better, basketball was.

I made it my personality for a while. I lived and breathed basketball. Ultimately, it helped me in the long run by getting me a full-ride scholarship to Fox U.

After a handful more three’s, all of them nothing-but-net, we call it a night.

We walk back to the dorm, both of us lost in our own thoughts, just being in each other’s presence.

We’re climbing the steps to the front door when Alyssa’s nasally voice, calls my name.

She’s walking slowly our way, hips swinging in what I know she thinks is a sexy sway, but to me it just makes me want to grind my teeth.

Oscar and I both sigh and he puts his hand on my shoulder. “Go ahead and go in. She won’t follow you. I’ll make sure of it.”

I give him a tight smile in thanks, then hastily unlock the door and step inside before she reaches the bottom step.

Oscar’s voice is sharp. “Get out of here, Hart. Before I report you for harassment.”

I smile, as I leave the common area and make my way up the three flights of stairs to my room.

No matter what, I can always count on Oscar.

Violet

Tutoring has been going swimmingly. In no time flat, Cameron has almost caught me up to our current lesson, and I can tell he’s a little proud of me.

He tries to be all sly and standoffish, but every once in a while I catch him leaning closer to me than he has to. On one occasion, I’m pretty sure he even took a whiff of me while he was watching me solve a particularly complex problem.

I’d say it’s weird, but Cameron is anything but normal.

If he’s got something to say, then it must be something he deems important enough to share with whomever he’s speaking to.

He’s also very aware of me. The more time I spend with him, the more he keeps popping up everywhere.

When I show up for our next session, he’s standing outside the door, with a scowl that could frighten the pants off of a freshly dressed store mannequin and his fists clenched.

“What’s wrong?” I ask softly when I get close enough for him to hear me.

“Someone filled the room with shit.”

“What kind of shit?” I reach around him to open the door, but he blocks me. His large body takes up most of the door.

“Literal shit, Violet. You don’t want to open this door.”

“What the hell?”

“I was waiting here to make sure you didn’t go in before I reported it.”

“Oh, okay. Well, let’s go report it together.”

He falls into step next to me, but I struggle to keep up with him. I don’t know if he’s walking faster because he’s mad or if this is his normal walking speed. But we make it to the front desk in record time.

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