Nice Guys Don't Win (The Boys #2) - Micalea Smeltzer Page 0,48
get started. The last thing I need to do is get behind on my studies. It can be hard to keep up with everything, school, my job, basketball, but somehow, I always manage to make it work.
Grabbing one of my textbooks and laptop I join Zoey back on the couch.
We work in companionable silence, but every so often I feel Zoey’s eyes drift to me, like she’s trying to figure out my motivation for hunting down her favorite Oreos.
The truth is, I would’ve done that for any of my friends for something they cared about, but would I have gone so far out of my way after the first few failed attempts?
I’m not so sure.
Zoey closes her laptop. “I’m going to make tacos for dinner. Is that cool?”
“That’s fine,” I mumble, pretending to be absorbed in my paper, when in reality my body is in tune to every movement of hers as she sets her computer on the coffee table and stands.
My chest tightens. I need to move past my feelings for her. I can’t do this again—pine for someone who clearly doesn’t want me. But knowing it and actually accomplishing it are two different things.
Desperate for fresh air, I shut my computer and grab my basketball from beside the door. I’m out in seconds, jogging down the stairs to the small court beside the building.
Digging in my pocket, I hope to find a piece of gum stuffed there. Luck is on my side when my hand closes around the foil wrapped rectangle. I take it out and pop the cinnamon gum in my mouth.
Dribbling the ball, I close my eyes, focusing on the feel of my fingertips grazing the surface and how in tune I am with it and my surroundings. Keeping my eyes squeezed shut, I shoot the ball, opening them in time to see it glide easily through the net.
Basketball is second nature to me, as easy as breathing. It’s been like that since the first time I stepped on a court. I’ve always felt like I belonged once I got a ball in my hands. I think of the smiles my parents and sisters have always worn when watching me play. I know I’ve been fortunate to not only have a talent for something, but the support of my family as well. Not everyone is as lucky. Look at Zoey and what she’s been through, a strained relationship with her dad and her mother passing. At least she’s trying to mend things with him. I know that takes an incredible amount of courage when you’ve been hurt.
I don’t realize how long I’ve been out there until Zoey emerges in the darkness; her arms wrapped tightly around her body. Her hair is down now, and she’s slipped her feet into a pair of flip-flops she’s taken to keeping by the door.
“Are you okay? Your tacos are getting cold.”
I tuck the basketball against my side, scrubbing my other hand over my head. My curls are getting a little out of control and I’m in desperate need of shaping them up. If my mom saw me now she’d strap me to the kitchen chair and go to town.
“I’m fine. Just needed some air. That paper was getting to me.”
It’s a lie. It wasn’t the paper at all, but the beautiful girl I’m forced to live with.
She’s everything I want, and everything I can’t have.
“Oh.” She gives a small smile. “I’d offer to help but I don’t think I can do you much good with the difference in our studies.”
“No, I guess not.” I give her a flicker of my own smile.
“Cole,” she starts, her eyes drifting to the ground. She wiggles her toes, staring at them like they hold all the answers in the world. “Look, I like you, a lot. But … I’m scared.” Her dark eyes lift to mine. “I was screwed over in my past, and really hurt, and even though I realize now that he was never the guy for me that doesn’t mean damage wasn’t done. I’m just … trying to figure out who I am.”
I stare into her eyes, trying to convey a thousand unsaid things. “From where I’m standing, Zoey, you’re pretty remarkable.”
18
Zoey
“Tell me again, how we got talked into this?” I yell through the crack in the bathroom door as I put the final touches on my makeup.
I hear Cole’s door open down the hall. “Because Teddy is a master manipulator when it comes to us.”