You Don't Know..What you Don't Know

Chapter Forty Two: Winter

Randy and I managed to steal a few evenings together over the next several weeks, usually at his apartment.

Between my schedule and his, those moments felt rare. Basketball season was approaching, consuming more of my time every day, while Randy seemed to pick up every shift work would give him.

Neither of us pushed to define whatever we were becoming. Maybe we were both avoiding the conversation. Maybe neither of us was ready for the answer.

Homecoming came and went.

Jim was crowned Homecoming King, and I cheered louder than anyone. I skipped the dance, though, spending the evening with Gary and Jake instead. They would have gladly been my dates if I'd asked, but I didn't want a pretend boyfriend on my arm. Randy refused to set foot at a high school dance.

That stung more than I let on.

Football season finally ended, and basketball took over my life.

As a varsity starter, every spare minute belonged to the game. If I wasn't in practice, I was in the weight room. If I wasn't lifting, I was running. Weekends disappeared into preseason tournaments, scouting reports, and endless film sessions. My world shrank until it was little more than school, basketball, and sleep.

Randy wasn't shy about reminding me how little time I had left for him.

Whenever I caught a free hour, he was working. Whenever he was off, I was in the gym. We kept missing each other by minutes, like two ships crossing in the dark. It was becoming frustrating for both of us.

The regular season exploded out of the gate.

Sam and I couldn't seem to miss. We were everywhere—winning games, filling stat sheets, and landing in the newspaper almost every week. Reporters couldn't believe I was only a sophomore. Every article seemed to invent a new nickname for us.

The Dream Team.

The Dynamic Duo.

Perfection.

Coach clipped every article and taped them to the locker room wall. He'd grin every time he walked past them.

"My legacy," he'd say proudly.

By the time playoffs arrived, we were 12-0. Every victory seemed bigger than the last, our team blowing opponents out night after night.

Randy made it to a handful of games, usually sitting with Gary and Jake.

My boys never missed a game.

They were my loudest, most loyal cheerleaders.

What Randy couldn't say in person, he started saying through text messages instead. Every conversation seemed to circle back to the same thing.

Randy: Two minutes before practice. Lack of you is making me quick.

Me: Can't. Sam and I have a newspaper interview. Sorry. I promise the season's almost over.

Randy: Quit. You need me more.

I laughed and shook my head before typing back.

Me: God, basketball, Randy. For the love of the game.

His reply came almost instantly.

Randy: Ouch. I'm doing something wrong if my girl chooses basketball over me.

I stared at the screen for a moment before smiling.

Me: You're not doing anything wrong. I'd choose basketball over breathing. My perfect fantasy is making love in the middle of center court during a thunderstorm. Someday. Gotta run—I'm late for the interview.