Freeing Carter

Kira's standing next to me, silent while I try to quiet the voices ru

I shake my head, hoping the thoughts will fall out. And suddenly, even though I know it's better, I don't want to be alone. "Hey. If you're not busy..." Spit it out, Shaw. I shrug. "I don't know... You want that basketball lesson?"

She doesn't complain about how it's almost midnight. She doesn't ask me again what's wrong or tell me the last thing she wants to do on a Friday night is play a sport she hates with a guy who's obviously screwed up in the head. Instead she looks at me and smiles. "Okay...but you can't get mad if I beat you."

Chapter Nine

I park the truck in the farthest parking spot away from the street, hoping no one will notice it. "You haven't been drinking, have you?" I ask Kira.

"Nope." She opens the door, making the interior light come on.

"Good. If you see a cop, still run, but if we get caught, I'm sure we won't get into trouble. Hanging out in the park after curfew isn't as bad as being drunk and under twenty-one."

"Great. The first time you take me out and we might get arrested. Lana's going to love you." Kira slams the door after she jumps out. I scramble out of my seat behind her.

"I don't want your mom—"

"Guardian."

Oops. "Sorry. Your guardian to want to kill me. Should we go?" Say no.

"No."

Thank you!

"But I will totally blame it on you if we get caught." She smiles, making me think—or hope—she's kidding. Kira's already walking toward the basketball court she saw me at the first day we met. Grabbing my basketball out of the cab, I push the door closed and run after her.

The court is set far off the street and down a path. We really shouldn't get caught. I've played here enough at night, but I still throw a quick request to the big guy upstairs that we get by unscathed tonight. The last thing I need is to have the cops call my mom to pick me up.

Suddenly, my feet won't move. Holy shit. What would I do if the cops called Mom? She couldn't come and get me. Would they make her? Send me home on my own? "Hey... You sure we should stay? I mean, I don't want you to get into trouble or anything."

She doesn't stop walking and I make my feet move again. It always feels like I'm trying to catch up with this girl. "You won't. I'll be fine. Unless..." Finally, she stops walking.

When I reach her, I'm shaking my head. "No, no. I'm cool. Come on. Let's go."

When we get to the court, I start to feel a little stupid. Why did I invite a girl who's not into ball to the basketball court? I mean, I'm sure she really doesn't want to spend her Friday night learning basketball 101 when she's already told me it's not her thing. Now that we're here, I don't even know if she really wants me to show her or if she just came because she felt sorry for me. Or maybe she wants to watch me. Usually it doesn't bother me when people watch, but times like tonight, where I just need the leather between my hands to feel grounded to something, I don't really want an audience.

Which makes me wonder why I invited her here in the first place.

"So I'm guessing heels and basketball don't really go well together?" Kira's steady voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

"Um...no." I dribble the ball to keep myself busy. "I guess I didn't really think this through very well."

She shrugs, pulling off her shoes and tossing them to the side.

"You can't play with no shoes on. What if you step on something?"

"I'll be okay, Mom. Just make sure you don't stomp on my feet."

Like always she pulls a small laugh out of me. "Ha ha. See? I try to be a gentleman and you make fun of me. Nice."

"Are those the same shoes you play your games in?"

"Um, no. Why?"

"Give them to me."

"What? Then what will I wear?"

Kira crosses her arms. "Oh, I was under the impression you were being a gentleman."

My eyes fall closed and I shake my head, knowing she got me. "Fine, but just so you know, I wouldn't do this for just anyone. And if I step on something and get hurt, I'm totally suing."

"Deal." She takes my Nikes and pulls them on. They're obviously big on her. I doubt she'll even be able to run without tripping. "And at least you have socks. That's some protection."

"Socks? Protection my ass." This time, it's me who mumbles, "girls" the same way she did boys.

"Okay, so what's first, coach?" She holds out her hand, answering my question about whether we're really playing basketball class or not. I toss her the ball.

"Let me see how you shoot." I grab her arm and pull her forward a little, about where the free throw line is.

With her feet apart, she pulls her hands in the air and I stop her. "Nope. Not right at all. Here." I step up behind her. Patting one of her legs, I say, "Move this leg a little. Yep, like that. Raise the ball up, with two hands, but put one on the side a little." She does it, but wrong. Reaching my arms around her I touch her wrist. "Over a little. Yeah, like that. Then the other hand at the back of the ball."

I'm behind her, arms on each side of her, my hands on hers. It's not until I smell girl that I realize how close I am to her. I don't even know what the scent is—some kind of sweet perfume that goes straight to my head. Her back's against my chest. My arms are around her. I suck in another breath because, man, girls smell good. When you're this close to one, it's impossible not to suck it all in and drown in it. "Is...Is this...okay?"

She chuckles. I don't know if it's wishful thinking or not, but I think it sounds a little more raspy than usual.

"Sure thing, Coach. It's the only way to learn, right?"

Oh, yeah. This is about basketball. It's the first time in my life I haven't fully appreciated the sport because while it did get me this close to her, it's not the reason a guy wants to be close to a girl. "Absolutely."

Trying to make myself concentrate on what I'm doing rather than how soft she is... What is that smell? Strawberries? Okay, I'm going the wrong way here.

"You're going to bend your right wrist a little so the ball tilts backward. Smoothly flick your wrist forward a little, letting the ball kind of roll out of your hand, off your fingers. One fluid movement, 'kay?" Basketball, basketball, basketball.

I step away from her. She shoots it hard, bouncing the ball roughly off the front of the rim. "Oops."

Ru

It's dumb. All kinds of dumb, actually. I mean, I got dumped by Mel tonight. I'm all screwed up over Mom, but I need to feel her. Need to forget everything else, so I slide my hands down her arms instead of pulling them away before stepping around her.