The following afternoon, the heat in the gym was stifling. Jay had tried to avoid the sports complex entirely, but her professor had asked her to deliver the mid-term rubrics to the coaching staff.
As she walked toward the bleachers, the rhythmic thud-thud-thud of a basketball echoed through the rafters.
The team wasn't in full practice; it was just Keifer, alone on the court, shooting free throws with a focused, almost aggressive intensity.
Jay tried to sneak past, but the squeak of her sneakers on the polished wood gave her away.
"You're late for the game, but early for the show," Keifer called out without looking back.
He flicked his wrist, and the ball swished perfectly through the net.
Jay stopped, her "Sunshine" mask clicking into place. "I'm just a messenger today, Keifer.
I didn't know you practiced this hard when no one was watching."
Keifer grabbed the ball as it bounced back and finally turned to her.
He wasn't wearing his jersey, just a grey tank top that showed the strain in his shoulders. "I practice harder when no one is watching because that's when it counts.
Isn't that your philosophy, too, Jay? Doing everything perfectly behind the scenes?"
Jay felt a small prickle of discomfort. He was getting too good at reading her. "I don't know what you mean. I'm just organized."
"Come here," he commanded, gesturing to the free-throw line.
"I have to go, Keifer—"
"One shot. If you make it, I'll do the entire bibliography for our report. If you miss, you have to stay and watch me finish my set."
Jay hesitated. The bibliography was the most tedious part.
She walked onto the court, her heart beginning to hum. Keifer handed her the ball. His fingers brushed against hers, and for a second, the air between them felt heavy and still.
Jay took a breath, aimed, and threw. The ball hit the rim, danced around the edge, and then tumbled out.
"Missed," Keifer whispered, leaning down so his face was level with hers. "Looks like you're stuck here."
Jay felt her cheeks heating up.
It wasn't just the heat of the gym.
She sat on the bottom row of the bleachers, watching him. This wasn't like the game yesterday.
There were no screaming fans, no Cheska, no Gatorade. It was just the sound of his breathing and the ball hitting the floor.
She found herself cheering for him in her head. Every time he made a basket, she felt a little spark of pride. She didn't realize she was leaning forward, her chin in her hands, a real smile—soft and genuine—spreading across her face.
Keifer caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye. He stopped mid-dribble. He had seen Jay smile a thousand times, but those were "public" smiles.
This one was different. This one looked like she was actually happy to be there.
He felt a sudden, sharp tug in his chest. It wasn't the usual thrill of a crush or the ego boost of a flirtation. It was a realization that hit him like a physical blow:
I really, really like this girl.
"What are you smiling at, Mariano?" he asked, his voice a little gruff to hide his nerves.
Jay blinked, realizing she'd let her guard down. She quickly replaced the soft look with her bright, "standard" grin.
"I was just thinking about how much work you're going to have to do to keep your grades up if you keep practicing like this!"
Keifer dribbled the ball once, then walked over to her.
He stood right in front of her, blocking the light. "I don't care about the grades right now, Jay."
"Then what do you care about?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
Keifer reached out, his hand hovering near her cheek before he pulled back, settling for a playful tap on her nose. "I care about seeing that look again. The one you just had when you thought I wasn't looking."
Jay looked away, her heart hammering. She felt safe here, in the empty gym with him, but the safety terrified her. Because safety was a lie, and the dark always came back.
"I should go," she said, standing up abruptly. "See you tomorrow, Mark Keifer."
As she hurried out, she didn't see Keifer sink onto the court floor, holding the basketball and staring at the door she just exited.
"Yeah," he muttered to the empty room. "I'm in trouble."