Barely Breathing

I turned toward the bar again, but the blond curls had disappeared. I collapsed on one of the stools, not wanting to chase after her all night. I figured after the hour was up, I’d text her and meet her wherever she was.

“What can I get for you?” the guy in the white oxford asked from behind the bar. I couldn’t believe there was an actual bartender, but then again, there was valet parking.

“Something with caffeine,” I requested. As he reached for a liquor bottle, I corrected with, “Non-alcoholic.” He nodded and handed me a Mountain Dew.

I looked past him to the screen suspended behind the bar and preoccupied myself with basketball highlights so I wouldn’t have to make conversation with people I didn’t know. Or people I did…

“I told him, ‘You’re a douche and you're going to wish you were dead.’”

I don’t know why I turned around. Perhaps it was because he had one of those obnoxious voices that carried through a crowd, attracting attention. It was almost an instinct, like hearing a car horn and turning to see who was honking as the car's about to hit you.

Jay’s mouth dropped open. “Shit, Emma. I didn’t know you were here. Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

It took me a moment to understand what Drew's annoying best friend was talking about. When it connected, I rolled my eyes with a groan and slid off the stool―walking past him and the awed eyes that surrounded him.

There was a steady stream of people flowing down the stairs, so I continued to the other side of the room, keeping my head down. I found a sliding door leading to a stone patio next to the other bar. I unlocked it and slipped out before anyone could say anything else to me.

I wasn’t sure why I bothered to keep coming to these parties. I blew out a cloud of frustration into the frosty air and shoved my hands in my pockets, trying to decide my next move.

I pulled out my phone, recognizing I still had an unbearable forty-five minutes to go. I searched the dark, trying to spot a path that led to the front. Maybe the valet would let me sit in Casey’s car while I waited for her.

The patio connected to a stone walkway that was cleared of snow. It branched out; one way led to a pool covered in a snow-crusted blue sheet, and another to a long building with a dark wood finish. Light spilled from the small windows that lined the top of the tall walls.

I approached the door, just to peek in, but when I opened it―I was drawn inside. The distinct scent of freshly waxed floors with a hint of rubber filled my senses. I wasn’t exactly surprised to find an indoor basketball court in Drew’s backyard, but I couldn't understand why he'd never told me about it.

The court was empty, creating the perfect haven to hide for the next half hour or so. I unzipped my jacket and dumped it on the bench. Perfectly painted black lines framed the court, and two benches for the competing teams bordered one side. A professional scoreboard hung high on the wall at one end of the court. There was even a door leading to a locker room in one of the corners. I laughed, shaking my head. This was unbelievable.

I took off my black soled shoes and strode onto the court, eyeing the rack of balls along the baseline. I pulled one off and started dribbling toward the foul line. Squaring up to the basket, I released the ball, bouncing it off the back rim and through the orange hoop. I slid my feet along the floor for the rebound, then dribbled back for another shot.

I continued to work my way around the perimeter, watching the minutes tick away on the caged-in clock behind the basket. When the door banged shut I stopped with the ball poised in the palm of my hand. I spun around.

“I thought I’d find you in here,” Drew said with a soft smile, his dimples slightly creasing. “Then again, I wasn’t expecting you to be at the party at all.”

“Sorry,” I offered, my entire body breaking out in a nervous sweat.

“No, it’s okay,” he assured, walking toward me. “Just surprised when I heard you were here, not a big deal.”

Drew wore a light blue sweater that played off the color of his eyes, making them look like reflective pools of water. His black hair was swept to the side, more tamed than the surfing style I remembered, but it could have easily been mussed to resemble it.

“Where’s Sara?” he questioned.

“Cornell,” I responded.

“Then who are you here with? Because I know it's not Evan,” he mocked.

“Casey,” I shared, picking up on his teasing tone. He nodded.

I balanced the ball on my hip, trying to figure out the best way to leave without it being any more uncomfortable.

“Wanna shoot?” he proposed, holding up his hands in expectation.

"Why not." I tossed him the ball with a shrug. I thought I might as well since I had to leave in a few minutes anyway.

He dribbled in closer and pulled up for a shot, the ball sliding through the net with ease. I shuffled to collect the ball and tossed it back to him for another attempt. He took a few steps to the right and landed the shot.

“Congratulations on winning States for soccer again this year,” Drew offered, accepting the ball again.

“Thanks,” I responded, focusing on the rebounds so my nerves wouldn’t get the better of me.

“Heard the girls’ basketball team is pretty decent too,” he continued, hitting every shot he took.

“Yeah, we have a good team.”

He tossed the ball back in my direction, allowing me to take some shots. I dribbled out to the three-point mark and let the ball go, nailing it.

“Nice,” he admired, bouncing the ball to me. I stepped up to receive it and set up for the shot; it bounced off the backboard and into the basket.

“Syracuse ball, huh?” I concentrated on the basket, not looking at him as I spoke. "How come I never knew they picked you up? That's pretty huge."

“No one really did,” he responded. His indifference caught me off guard. I hesitated, flashing him a quick glance, before taking the shot. “I didn't want to make a big deal about it. My dad brags enough for the two of us. Besides, I’m red shirted this year, so I don’t play much.”

“Right,” I nodding, still not understanding how the entire school wouldn't have known he was a prospect when they scouted him during his junior year. It made me wonder just how important basketball was to him, since it was obviously a huge deal to his father. I squared up to shoot. Drew moved in quick, intending to tip the ball out of my hands. I pulled it down and when his hand sank, I popped back up to hit the shot.

“Nice try,” I taunted, rushing in to gather the rebound. Drew hurried after the ball, bumping alongside me. He was quicker, having the shoe advantage.

He grinned cockily and dribbled the ball back out. I took a defensive stance in front of him. He made a move on the inside, and I followed in tight, jumping when he released it. But it sailed over my fingers into the basket.

“Lucky,” I jeered.

My anxiety dissipated with each shot. Drew pulled off his sweater revealing a grey t-shirt with a surfing logo. I was beginning to sweat myself, so I took off my sweater too and tossed it next to his on the bench. As I turned back toward the court, Drew shifted his eyes down from the fitted white tank top. I ignored the slight grin on his face.

He checked the ball back out to me and I dribbled, deciding where to make my move.

“How come we never played before?” he asked, jabbing his hand in to attempt a steal. I turned to block him with my shoulder, letting out a wicked laugh.

“I don’t know,” I responded. I spun around to release a quick shot over him, slicing through the net. “How come you never told me you had a basketball court in your backyard?”

“Graduation present,” he explained. I nodded my head in understanding, knowing we hadn't been exactly speaking, nor was I in any condition to play ball, when he graduated last June.

“I can’t play in socks,” I decided after sliding after the ball. “Barefoot rule.”

“Fine,” Drew agreed, kicking off his shoes and stripping his socks.

We continued with the one-on-one match, the game intensifying with each rebound and score. I shoved up against him to sneak in under the basket, and he elbowed a few times to earn space to take a jumper. I couldn’t say who was winning; we weren’t exactly keeping score.

I went up for a jump shot inside the three-point line, and Drew came in late for the block, nudging me with his shoulder. I landed hard on my right foot, and my ankle gave out under the pressure. I stumbled to the floor.

I pulled my knee into my chest, grabbing my ankle and sucking in air through clenched teeth.

“I’m so sorry,” he rushed, bending down beside me. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I grunted, inspecting the damage. “Just landed wrong.”

“That would suck to take out the captain of the team right before play…” His sentence trailed when his eyes connected with the scar. “Oh, Em. Are you okay? Really?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I tried to answer lightly, playing off the strain in my voice. He held out his hand, slowly pulling me to my feet. I tested my weight and limped to the bench.

“I’ll get an ice pack.” Before I could refuse, he was jogging to the locker room. He returned a minute later with a white plastic pack, twisting it to initiate the cooling process. I rested my leg on the bench, and he set the pack on top of my ankle.

“I’ll be fine,” I stated adamantly, slightly embarrassed by his concern. “Besides, aren’t you throwing a party or something? You don’t have to take care of me.”

He smiled. “The party takes care of itself. And I wish I'd taken better care of you when I had you.”

His words stilled my chest as I remained silent.

“What I meant to say is that I’m sorry,” he said softly, sitting at the end of the bench near my foot, holding the ice pack in place. “I was such an asshole at that party, and I wish I could take it back. So I just… I wanted you to know I’m sorry.”

I swallowed, since it seemed to be the only thing that I was capable of doing. I met his eyes, sincerity glistening in their tranquil hue. I didn’t know what to say. But I believed him.

My view shifted past him to the clock on the wall. “Shit. I’m late.”

“What?” Drew asked, my panic unexpected.

“I was supposed to meet Casey about an hour ago. I’m such an idiot.’

“She’s probably still inside,” he assured me.

I pulled my foot out from under his hand and shoved on my socks and shoes. My ankle was tender, but I’d been through worse. I grabbed my jacket and headed for the door.

“Wait,” Drew called after me, grabbing his jacket and fumbling with his shoes.

I pulled my phone from my pocket to call her and noticed I had five missed calls, three of them from Casey, and a string of texts. I groaned

The last text read, Have no idea where you are, but I left. At another party across town. Call me if you’re stuck.

“Great,” I grumbled.

“What’s wrong?” Drew asked, tying his shoes beside me.

“She left. Now what am I going to do?”