Six months later, Izzy and I were inseparable. We texted all the time, hung out almost every day, and our families had grown close too.
Today, we were at the trampoline park, bouncing around like little kids. After a few hours, we decided to leave, but as we were heading out, Izzy spotted the basketball hoops.
"Eve wait, there's basketball hoops wanna play?" She said, her eyes lighting up.
"Sure, but I'm not any good!" I replied.
I tried, I really did, but I wasn't as good as Izzy, who was on the varsity basketball team, jersey number 3. Don't even ask how I knew that, she never told me her jersey number but... I heard her and her mother talking bout it during the move in process.
After a few failed attempts, I got frustrated and started to walk away. Izzy caught my arm, pulling me back gently.
"Hey, we aren't done yet. Don't give up now," she said, placing the ball back in my hands, her eyes locking onto mine.
I nodded, a bit breathless. "Okay."
"Is it alright if I touch your hands?" she asked softly.
I swallowed hard, nodding. "Yeah, it's okay."
Izzy moved my hands into the right positions, one on top of the ball, the other on the side. She was so close I could feel the warmth radiating off her.
My form was perfect. I took a deep breath and shot.
It went in. I turned to Izzy, who was grinning widely.
"See? You got it," she said, and then she pulled me into a run as we started walking the two blocks back to my house.
Once home, we decided to make brownies. The kitchen filled with the rich, chocolaty aroma as we danced around to Frank Ocean in the living room.
