The court was bigger than any Jimmy had played on before. He hurried into the dressing room to change into his jersey, then joined his teammates on the floor. Almost immediately, the game began, as though everyone had been waiting for his arrival before starting.
I watched his every move from where I was seated. He made the impossible look effortless. The way his fingers curved around the ball, the confidence in his stance. There was a quick exchange between him and his teammates as he dribbled past the opposing players, passing the ball smoothly to one of them.
Moments later, the ball was passed back to him. He dribbled, bouncing it against the floor as he moved with speed and precision. Then, without hesitation, he took a shot from beyond the curved line. The ball sailed through the air and dropped cleanly into the hoop.
Three points.
Cheers erupted from the crowd. The first and second halves ended in celebration and joy_Jimmy and his teammates grinning, the audience clapping with excitement. They had won.
Overwhelmed with happiness, I rushed toward him.
He wrapped his arm around me, pulling me closer, holding me so tightly it felt as though he was drawing in every breath I had left.
I love him so much, I thought, letting out a small gasp as a deep smile curved my lips.
"Jimmy… Jimmy."
A tall figure walking alongside the coach called out as he approached us. Jimmy slowly loosened his hold around my waist, his hand slipping into mine as he stood beside me.
A tall figure walking alongside the coach called out as he approached us. Jimmy slowly loosened his hold around my waist, his hand slipping into mine as he stood beside me.
The man stopped in front of us. He had the same sharp jawline and strong nose as Jimmy, the same intense eyes_only aged by time and experience. His frame was broad and solid, his posture firm, like someone who had once commanded a court with confidence.
There was no doubt about it.
This was Jimmy's father.
"Congratulations, my boy, on your win," his father said proudly. "You've proven yourself to be a true son of mine on the court today."
He smiled, then his gaze shifted to me_sharp and intense, lingering longer than necessary. "There's a surprise waiting for you at home," he added. "Let's go."
A brief silence followed, thick and uncomfortable, as tension settled between father and son. Jimmy didn't respond to the praise or the command. Instead, noticing his father's stare, he spoke softly.
"Dad… this is Riley. My… my..."
He hesitated, searching for a word that wouldn't offend either of us.
"My close friend. Riley, meet my dad."
I had seen his father countless times before_dropping Jimmy off at school, picking him up, watching games, even at their house_but we had never been this close. There had never been a proper introduction. Still, hearing the words close friend sent a slight pang through my chest.
Maybe I'm overthinking it, I told myself. How else was a teenage boy supposed to introduce me to his father? Friend was the safest choice. I almost laughed at the thought.
Almost.
But a part of me wished he had chosen something more serious. Something that sounded less distant. Being reduced to "just a friend" felt louder than I expected.
His father merely gave me one last hard look before turning away and walking off with the coach, leaving Jimmy and me standing there alone.
I frowned at him, and he noticed immediately.
"Ril…" he said quietly as we began walking toward the dressing room. "You're upset."
I hesitated, then nodded. "I didn't mean to make things awkward back there," I said gently. "I just… I wasn't expecting that."
He stopped walking and turned to face me. "Calling you my close friend?"
I looked down at my hands. "I know you didn't mean anything bad by it, Jimmy. I really do. It just caught me off guard, that's all."
He let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice low and sincere. "I panicked. I just didn't want to offend my dad_ knowing fully well how he is.But you know you mean more than that to me."
I finally looked up at him. His eyes were soft now, filled with regret.
"You're important to me, Riley," he continued. "More than I probably show sometimes. I should've handled that better."
My chest tightened, but this time not from hurt. "Thank you for saying that," I whispered.
He reached for my hand as we resumed walking. "I'll make it right. I promise."
We reached the dressing room, and he squeezed my fingers before letting go. As he disappeared inside to change back into his vintage outfit, I leaned against the wall, my heart caught somewhere between comfort and the truth I was still holding back.
As I waited outside, I realized I had been so consumed by the events of the day that I'd completely lost track of time. I quickly reached for my phone to check the hour and froze.
Twelve missed calls from my mom.
Three voice messages.
And a single text that read simply: Riley, where are you?
Jimmy walked out immediately.
"What are you staring at so intensely on your phone? You look like you've just seen a ghost," he said playfully, poking my side.
"It's my mother," I replied, my voice tight. "It's so unlike her to give me this many missed calls."
"Oh," he said, his expression shifting. "It's past eight in the evening. Do you think she's home already? I thought she usually closes the salon between nine and ten." His voice carried a hint of worry.
"Yeah… unless she returned earlier today," I said, panic creeping into my chest. "But she told me she'd be back late. I really need to start heading home."
Fear must have been written all over my face because Jimmy pulled me into a hug, holding me close. He spoke softly into my ear as he gently patted the back of my head.
"Alright, my love. Please take care of yourself. I'll call you tonight to check on you and make sure everything is okay."
He dipped his hand into his bag and handed me a small box.
"I got you a gift."
Without checking what was inside, I quickly slipped the box into my bag and hurried home.