Page 93 of Half-Court Heat

“It was just sunscreen, Jazz.” I sat with my arms on my knees and stared at nothing. “I wasn’t trying to flirt.”

“I believe you.”

I chewed on my lower lip. “But it probably looked like I was.”

“Itdefinitelylooked like you were.”

Silence stretched between us, broken only by the wind, waves, and the shouts of a group playing paddleball down the beach.

“Eva trusts me,” I said quietly.

“I know she does.”

“But she probably wouldn’t love that.”

“Nope.”

I finally turned to my best friend. “It’s not like I’d actually … you know. Cheat.”

Jazz lifted her sunglasses and looked at me for real. “Look. I get it. You’re lonely, you’re bored, you’re living in a rental with all this chaotic lesbian energy. But you can’t play dumb. Not about this.”

“I’m just tired,” I admitted. “Of not seeing her. Of not knowing if we’ll still make sense when the new season starts. It’s easier not to think about it when I’m on the court. But today …” I trailed off.

“Today you put lotion on the one girl who’d leap at the chance to be your rebound if you slipped.”

I flinched again.

Jazz reached over and squeezed my arm. “Lex. You’re not an idiot. So don’t act like one.”

I nodded, slow and heavy.

We sat in the sun until the shadows shifted and people started pulling food out of the coolers they’d brought. Mya and Penny waved us over, but I stayed put. Instead, I dug my phone out of my bag and stared at Eva’s most recent text.

Just finished PT. Hit 95 degrees on flexion today. My therapist was impressed. I wish you were here to see it. Miss you.

I stared at the words for a long time before sending a text of my own.

I miss you. More than I know what to do with.

She didn’t reply right away.

Out on the sand, someone suggested a group swim. Dez yelled something about sharks. Arika threw a flip-flop at her. Rayah caught my eye once, just for a second, but I didn’t look back.

My phone buzzed a few moments later.

I know the feeling.

We’ll get through it, Lex. One day at a time. You and me.

My stomach twisted, weirdly relieved and wrecked all at once.

Promise?

Promise.

Distance doesn’t scare me. Losing you does.

I smiled. Honest-to-God smiled.