Oh no...
"W-What?" I replied, awkwardly laughing. "Wait— I don't want to play..."
He shrugged. "Well yeah, I can tell you're being dishonest by the way you look at me. You stared at me too intently, classic rookie move. You're trying too hard not to get caught."
I sighed. "Okay, fine. You caught me. I just didn't want you to think I'd slow you guys down or something."
"What do you mean? It's just a school practice, Elise. Not a pro game." He smiled and okay, maybe he had a dimple. "We're here to have fun. You don't have to be perfect."
Before I could respond, someone from a few feet away yelled out, "Yo, Prinze! Enough flirting with Elise, you have a girlfriend, remember?"
I raised an eyebrow. Prinze just laughed, hands up in surrender. "Let's practice first. You can explain your basketball trauma later."
I followed him to the group.
"So what do you know about basketball, Elise?" one of the other guys asked. He had buzzed hair and a wide smile.
"Uhm..."
"Oh, my bad — I'm Tyrell, this is Watson, and I guess you've met Prinze by now."
I gave a polite smile, which was code for: Please don't pass me the ball.
"Oh yeah," Tyrell continued. "You kinda didn't answer my question."
"Well... you dribble and shoot, right?" I replied weakly.
"Alright. Let's see what you got," he grinned, passing me the ball.
"Okay Elise... here we go," I muttered. I bent my knees slightly and tried to dribble, but every bounce felt like I was making a very public mistake. The ball slapped against the floor and returned with an awkward rhythm — like it was embarrassed to be part of this situation.
"How's this?" I asked.
There was silence. The three boys looked at each other, trying not to laugh.
"Well... it's reasonable," Prinze said with a forced smile.
"Reasonable?" I frowned.
"It's disagreeable," Tyrell offered.
"I mean, it's substandard," Watson added.
"Just say it," I huffed.
"It's bad," a voice from behind me said flatly. I turned and saw Josh approaching. Oh. Him.
"What are you doing here, Josh?" Prinze asked, a bit stiff. "Shouldn't you guys be practicing?"
"We'll continue after class. I just came by 'cause it looked like Elise needed some help."
"I'm fine. I already have three people teaching me," I said quickly.
Josh tilted his head and looked over my shoulder. I turned around and—yeah. Watson and Tyrell had wandered off to another group. Cowards.
"I mean, I have Prinze," I corrected, looking to him for backup.
"Yeah, absolutely," Prinze said, though he was halfway through chugging water.
Josh raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that?"
"Look, shouldn't you be practicing with your group?" I shot back.
Josh shrugged. "They're good. Besides, I've got a few minutes."
I sighed. "Why do you even want to help me?"
"Why not?" he said, softly. "You make it sound like helping people's illegal." His voice was low, calm. His smile? Maybe just a little lopsided, and unfairly charming.
Before I could say anything, the bell rang.
"Oh, would you look at that," I said quickly. "Class is over. Guess you won't get to teach me after all."
"I've got time," he shrugged.
This guy really didn't take hints.
I gave him a tired smile. "Weird how you just popped in out of nowhere to save the day."
Josh chuckled, looking down for a moment. "Maybe I'm just a fan of underdogs."
I blinked. Wait... was that smooth?
He looked back up. "So, where do you want to start?"
Before I could answer, Prinze's phone rang.
"Yes, babe?" he answered quickly. His voice dropped. "...No, I didn't forget. I'm just helping a classmate."
He looked over at me apologetically. "Alright. I'm on my way. I love you."
He hung up and sighed. "Crap. Sorry, guys. I promised her a street food date today. Totally forgot."
"No worries," Josh said before I could speak. "I'll cover. Elise still needs to get her dribble game from tragic to decent." He looked at me. "That is... if you're okay with it?"
I hesitated for a second. This is your chance to bail. You could just say "nah" and head back to the dorm. But something about the way he looked at me made it hard to say no. Not because I felt pressured. Just... curious.
"Yeah, sure. I guess."
Prinze nodded and fist-bumped Josh. "Thanks, man. I owe you." And with that, he ran out the gym.
I glanced over at the scoreboard and to Prinze's leaving figure. "Well, technically class is over. If we're being by-the-book here, practice should be done, right?"
Josh crossed his arms. "Didn't know you were such a stickler for rules."
"I'm not. It's just... you know... muscle fatigue is real. Gotta rest." I replied.
"You've been sitting for half the period."
"Exactly," I nodded. "That's how dangerous it is. If I suddenly move now, my legs might cramp."
He raised an eyebrow. "Elise, you literally jogged across the gym ten minutes ago trying to escape the ball."
"That was a survival instinct," I said seriously. "Totally different scenario."
He didn't laugh. He just stared at me with the same patient expression, like he was waiting for me to exhaust my nonsense. Unfortunately for him, I had a lot more in my nonsense tank.
"Okay, look," I tried again, "What if I'm actually doing the class a favor? You've seen me dribble, right? If I join this practice, someone's going to get hit in the face. Probably you."
"I'm willing to take the risk."
Ugh. He was immune to my charm. That was new.
"Alright, fine. But what if I break a nail?"
Josh raised his hands in defeat. "You know, I came over because I thought you might be a little nervous, and I wanted to help. But you're putting up more walls than a Minecraft speedrunner."
I blinked. "Wow. You play Minecraft?"
"Used to," he said with a shrug. "Built a cottagecore village once. Don't judge me."
That made me snort. "I'm judging you so hard right now."
He chuckled. "So that's the first real laugh I've heard from you today. Glad to know you're not actually allergic to basketball. Just emotionally allergic."
I groaned, flopping onto the nearest bench. "Fine. You got me. I just hate the idea of being the weakest link. You saw the way I dribbled earlier. That ball had more control over me than I did over it."
"I don't think anyone expects you to be an MVP," he said, stepping closer. "We're classmates, not NBA scouts. I promise no one's going to throw tomatoes if you miss a shot."
"...Are you sure?"
"Only thing you should be worried about is whether you can handle me in a one-on-one," he said, teasing.
"Oh please," I narrowed my eyes. "I may not know how to dribble, but I do know how to swing a water bottle at your head."
Josh grinned, holding his hands up like I'd won. "Now that's the spirit."
I exhaled, finally standing. "Alright. Coach me up, MVP."
Josh and I stood there for a moment in the middle of the now mostly empty court. His eyes met mine again, more serious this time.
"So..." he said, stepping closer. "Where should we start?"