I can’t stop thinking about our kiss. I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to, but make no mistake, I definitely don’t want to. My brain is stuck on those sixty seconds, the lone minute where her lips pressed against mine, just like I’d dreamt about, like I’d imagined hundreds of dozens of times. I can’t help but wonder what would’ve happened, how far we’d have gone, if her damn phone hadn’t beeped? Because she seemed into it; it felt like she wanted me to kiss her. And touch her. And taste her.

I couldn’t bring myself to admit that maybe she was thinking of Tod, picturing his face, his arms, his dick, instead of mine. Because that would destroy me. I lied when I told her that other kisses could feel that way, because nothing even came close to having her mouth on mine.

I was hard as granite from our first touch—she had to have felt it, seen it—but at that point I didn’t care. Everything focused on her and her alone. The way she whined, as though she was as desperate for me as I was her when I pulled my mouth away. Fuck, she had to be feeling it, too.

“Dude!” Bryan shouts, running over to where I stand mid-court. “What the hell? That’s the fifth pass you missed this quarter.”

“Sorry.” I jog back down the court as the ball is tossed back into play.

“Districts start this Saturday. What gives? You’ve been playing like shit all afternoon.”

“I said sorry, asshole.”

“Does this have something to do with Heather?” He dribbles the ball back, rolling eights just to show off. “I heard what happened at Phillip’s party last weekend.”

Fuck, I silently curse and roll my eyes. Bryan gossips more than most chicks. I don’t have time for this shit right now.

He continues. “It’s okay, man. Happens to the best of us.”

Huffing a breath, I bring my hands up calling a time-out, and I storm off the court. As expected, Bryan follows. I turn to him with narrowed eyes. “Look, I don’t know what you heard, but you don’t know shit.”

He chuckles. “You drank too much and passed out before the party…” He wiggles his eyebrows, “…ever started.”

So that’s how Heather’s spinning it. Okay, because the way I remember it is I flat-out turned her down, not because I didn’t want her—she’s hot and sucks like a motherfucking Hoover—but because it felt wrong to be messing around with Heather when my head is still so fucked up over Riley. Plus, Riley really hates Heather, and it kind of felt like a betrayal on my part.

But then again, why do I even care? As far as I could tell, Tod was all over Riley at Phillip’s party. I should know. I had a front row seat.

Bryan finishes his water bottle before throwing it to the side. “Whatever, dude. Do what you gotta do, but get your head back in the fucking game before Saturday. We need our star center to bring his A-game.”

I grunt as my eyes skim the bleachers, looking for Riley, already knowing she won’t be there. She goes to Tod’s swim practices now. Not that I’m bitter. Much. Maybe Bryan is right. I need to get over this shit with Riley and move on, because she certainly has.

* * *

It’s game three of our tournament and we’re down by two. The Mighty Mountaineers are a tough team to beat; their forwards are mad fast and their center has yet to miss a rebound.

But rather than focus on the game like I should, my thoughts are on Riley. And Tod. Whom she’s sitting next to in the bleachers, seventh row. Correction: whom she’s practically on top of.

As though she can sense my stare, her eyes snap to mine. She smiles—a huge smile that lights up her entire face—and mouths “You got this” as she mimes dunking a basket. I return her smile, but it’s tight and far from genuine because fucking Tod has his hands all over her. Christ, he’s practically grabbing her tits. How the hell is no one else bothered by this public display of indecency?

“You’re back in.” Phillip claps my back, startling me from my thoughts. “Watch number seventeen. He throws elbows.”

I grunt my agreement and cast one last look into the stands. Riley isn’t looking at me; in fact, she’s not paying attention to me at all because her lips are pressed against Tod’s. Jealousy, cold and hard, flows through my veins. For a moment I forget I’m in the gymnasium because my body feels like I’m back in my bedroom with her body nestled beneath mine. I can almost hear her soft moans, feel her hands grabbing me, pulling me closer, her writhing beneath me…

“Collins.” Bryan shoves me forward, and the buzzer drowns out his voice as he says, “It’s game time.”

The second half flies by, and despite Tod and Riley’s over-the-top PDA, I manage to score twenty points, tying us up in the fourth quarter. With ten seconds remaining on the clock, our hopes of winning the game dwindle. McClusky, number thirteen on the Mountaineers, dribbles the ball down the court. With lightning speed, Phillip sneaks in for the steal and tears down court. The seconds tick by rapid-fire, and with two seconds left on the clock, he passes to me, even though I’m not in ideal shooting range. Zeroing in on the backboard, I release the ball, hold my breath, and watch as it whooshes through the net right as the buzzer sounds. We win the game with a final score of 81-78.

The crowd’s cheers compete with the trumpets and horns of the pep band playing our school fight song. The cheerleaders take mid-court and perform their usual victory dance to the screams of the fans.

I’ve barely opened my Gatorade before Heather approaches. “Jesse!” She squeals. “That was sick.” Her face is flushed, and she bounces on her heels in excitement. The one thing I will say about cheerleaders is that they experience (or at least seem to experience) the same adrenaline rush as the players after a win. I guess because they’re in it just as much as we are.

“Our boy, Phillip, for the win.” I chug down the rest of my sports drink as Phillip slings an arm around me.

“Nah, bro.” He pulls me in closer for the typical man-hug. “You know what they say, ‘team work makes the dream work.’ ”

I pull away and laugh. “Dude, you’re so lame.”

He chuckles as Bryan joins our circle.

“So what are you doing later?” Heather asks, and although all three of us are standing there, I know she’s speaking directly to me.

My eyes scan the gym and find Riley lingering near the concession stand, talking with her friend, Emma. Tod’s hands are wrapped around her waist from behind, and his head rests on her shoulder.

“Don’t know.” I tear my eyes away as Tod nuzzles Riley’s neck. Seriously, dude. What the fuck? Show a little restraint; you’re not a fucking dog in heat. Then again, maybe he is.

I try my best to ignore the fact that if Riley were mine—really mine—I’d be unable to keep my hands to myself at all.

“My parents are out of town, and I’m having a few people over…” Heather’s voice trails off as she looks at me with wide, round eyes. “You should stop by.”

Phillip is the first to decline. “Can’t. I have a date with Mandy.” The way he says “date,” we know exactly what he means.

Bryan’s next to dismiss her offer. “My dad’s leaving on some business trip for the next two weeks, so I promised my mom I’d be home early.”

Heather nods and looks at me. “Jesse?”

I glance at Riley one last time before turning my gaze back to Heather. “Sure.”

I guess she’s somewhat surprised, because she gasps a little bit, and then a huge smile stretches across her face.

“Cool,” she says, reaching for her phone. “I’ll text you the directions.”

“Sounds good.” I follow Phillip and Bryan into the locker rooms to hit the showers.

Moving on, accepting Heather’s (obvious) invitation to hook up, is a step in the right direction. I need to move on, because the girl I want is wrapped up in another guy’s arms at this very moment. I’m not who Riley wants. I’ll never be more to her than a friend. This is for the best.

And when Heather slips her hand inside my boxer shorts later that night, I’ve almost convinced myself that I was right in coming here. Almost.