really make more of an effort. “I mean, I don’t really know how.”
“I can teach you,” she offers, and the smile she gives me only makes me feel worse.
“Maybe another time? I don’t really feel like embarrassing myself in front of everyone.”
“A private lesson.” She smirks. “I’m down.”
We sit in silence for another five minutes before I hear her loud sigh over the music.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her.
“It’s okay.” She shrugs, and I can see the disappointment fleet across her features, see the genuine frown pull on her lips. She slumps in her chair, her hair curtaining her face, and I feel like the biggest dick in the history of the world.
“Hey,” I say, dragging the legs of her chair until she’s facing me. I lift her chin, finger a strand of hair away from her eyes. She looks up, sad, sad eyes on mine. And it’s not her fault that I am the way I am. Not even a little bit. “I’m sorry,” I repeat. “It’s just… dances aren’t really my thing.”
She nods as if she knows me. And even though we’ve been spending more time together in the past few weeks since Ava crushed my soul, she doesn’t know me. Not the real me. Not like Ava knows me.
“Let’s get out of here,” she says, standing and taking my hand. I don’t know where we’re going, but anywhere is better than here, and so I follow blindly behind her as she leads me out of the gym and through the empty hallways.
We end up at the larger gym where the games are played. “Comfortable now?” Karen asks, slipping off her heels.
I nod. “Much.”
Giggling, she pulls a flask out of her purse and hands it to me. “You need to relax, Connor. The world doesn’t end tomorrow.”
She has a point. “You’re right. And I’m sorry. I’m sure this version of me wasn’t what you were expecting when you asked me to go with you.”
With a shrug, she goes to the corner of the court and grabs a ball from the rack. “I just like hanging out with you. It doesn’t really matter what we do.”
I take a sip of the bourbon she snuck in, wondering why she brought it since she doesn’t drink. “Me, too.” And it’s not a lie. I was wrong to have judged her the way I did, because she’s fun to be around. The type of fun that lets me forget everything else.
“One-on-one?” she asks, effortlessly spinning the ball on the tip of her finger.
I take another swig, breathe the alcohol straight into me. “Last time we played, I nailed you.”
“You haven’t nailed me.” She smirks. “Yet.”
I take the ball from her, go for a simple lay-up, then go after the ball and hold it under my arm as I face her. “I’ll give you a fifteen-point head start, just to make it fair.”
“Deal.”
We play until it’s fifteen all, taking breaks for me to sip on her flask. “You gotta give me more than that if you want a chance at scoring,” I laugh out.
She narrows her eyes. “So many innuendos, I can’t choose one.”
I stand under the basket, throw the ball to her while she waits at the free-throw line. I say, “I’ll give you a free shot, just because I feel sorry for you.”
Smiling, she dribbles for a few seconds, her feet planted to the floor. And then she moves in on me, closer and closer, until she’s standing in front of me, her nose to my chest. “Connor?”
I stand taller. “Karen?”
She throws the ball behind her, and I watch it fly in the air, feeling a chuckle build inside me. But it stops when her hands press against my chest, forceful enough for me to take a step back, and then another, and another, until my back hits a wall. I swallow, nervous, and look down at her. Her hands travel down my torso, to my stomach, and my breath halts when she licks her lips. Eyes on mine, she murmurs, “You miss a hundred percent of the shots you don’t take, right?”
I nod.
Her eyes drift shut, and I suck in a breath when she leans forward, mouth ready, and it would be so easy to do this. To be this. With her. I close my eyes…
And I picture Ava.
My eyes snap open. “I can’t,” I whisper, my hands finding Karen’s shoulders to stop her. To stop myself. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
Karen keeps her gaze lowered. “Because of her?” she asks quietly.
“No,