Cara Playing Cupid

Chapter 13 - Shorty

The empty gym was a world of its own. The silence was shattered only by the rhythmic bounce of the basketball beneath my palms. I stood facing Blake at center court, adrenaline surging through me.

How did we go from arguing to this? One moment I was apologizing, and the next, we were about to face off in a one-on-one.

"Ready to lose?" His lips curled into a swoon-worthy grin. "Hope you don't cry too much when I wipe the floor with you."

"In your dreams." I rolled my eyes, determination fueling my voice as I dribbled the ball, feeling the familiar thrill of competition.

With a burst of energy, I launched into my first drive. The air was thick with tension as I feigned left, then darted right, narrowly evading his outstretched arms. But Blake was quick. He sidestepped me and snatched the ball right out of my hands.

"Nice try." He chuckled, bouncing the ball with confidence.

Refusing to let him get the upper hand, I squared up again. This time, I rushed in for a steal, but he dodged me with ease. He spun around and took his shot.

Swish!

"Round one for me." A triumphant grin spread across his face. "And that means I get to ask my question."

My heart sank as I averted my gaze. "Go ahead."

He stepped closer, the teasing gleam in his eyes sending shivers down my spine. "Who was the love letter for?"

What?

My eyes widened in shock, and the memories of the locker room flooded back. I had no idea what was running through his mind when he made this challenge, but this wasn't the revelation I expected. He stopped just a few inches away from me and my heart pounded at the intensity of the moment.

I've already lied to him before and I couldn't tell him the truth now. If I say Elijah's name, it would only lead to trouble.

"Um, it was for... Kyle." I stammered, the name slipping out before I could think twice.

Kyle was just the guy I had asked about the locker assignment. Not that Blake would, but even if he did want to confirm, this would make it believable.

He raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched on his face. "Kyle?"

"Yep." I forced a smile, hoping he'd buy it.

"Interesting choice..." He muttered as he grabbed the ball, and though I heard him, I pretended not to.

"Please don't tell him," I added, channeling my best puppy-dog eyes. "I don't want anyone to know until I'm sure he's interested."

"Whatever." His expression shifted slightly, but I couldn't read his reaction.

As I watched him dribbling the ball, a mixture of relief and anxiety washed over me. I'd dodged the question for now. But as we stood there, the thrill of competition still crackled in the air. I knew this game was far from over.

Blake stood opposite me, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. His tousled hair glistened with sweat, and for a moment, I forgot we were rivals in this game. He doesn't even know the effect he had on me. Even his slightest moment makes my stomach flutter.

"Ready for round two?" He called, dribbling the ball with a confidence that made me grit my teeth.

"I was ready since round one." I shot back, trying to sound more self-assured than I felt. At six feet tall, he practically towered over me, but I was determined to make my mark.

I had my question brewing: why was he interested in Daphne, and why did he say that the other day? This was my chance to find out.

"Don't worry. You'll get your shot." He said, a grin tugging at his lips.