Page 8 of Irreconcilable Attractions (Westwend Boys #1)
“Losers first,” I called, tossing the ball to Derek with a grin when we were settled.
He caught it, huffing in amusement. “You’re gonna regret that.”
“Oh no… Not re gret,” I sing-songed, mock serious. “Anything but that.”
Derek warmed up with a few dribbles between his legs, shifting his weight back and forth as he tested the feel of the ball.
Then there was a subtle change in his posture that alerted me the game was on.
With his wide shoulders and long limbs, he definitely had a slight size advantage on me.
But, size wasn’t everything. I knew what I was doing.
He made his move, but I was already there.
Darting in front, I crowded him in spreading my arms just enough in an attempt to throw him off balance.
Instead, he spun himself around, trying to shield the ball with his back.
I backed off a little, trying to give him some space so he’d let his guard down.
When he did, I faked to my left, then slipped back to the right and snatched the ball clean from under him.
“Better luck next time, lawyer-boy!” I called, already sprinting toward the arc.
His heavy footsteps thundered behind me as he raced to catch up, but an almost manic grin spread over my face knowing he was too slow.
SWOOSH
The ball slipped clean through the net and I whooped. Could’ve kissed myself for that flawless execution.
Derek groaned, “What the fuck, man?”
I couldn’t hold back my smile as I shrugged, quickly snatching the ball. “What can I say? I’m just that good. First to eleven?”
“You’re supposed to go easy on me!” He called, shaking his head. “I’m your favorite new roommate!”
And then he pouted. Actually pouted.
I barked out a laugh. “Start playing better defense, roomie .”
“Don’t get cocky, asshole,” he grumbled, already squaring up.
We went at it again. For every slick move I pulled, he was right there to counter it.
Anytime one of us scored, some well-intentioned trash talking followed, and was easily dished right back out by the other party.
A few times Derek had to pause the game so he could catch his breath from laughing so hard, which made my insides hum with something I wasn’t ready to examine in the middle of our match-up.
I tried attempting to steal the ball once when he was bent over, but my lightning-like skills were apparently no match against his ninja reflexes.
After that, he started making stupid faces right before trying to steal the ball.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had so much fun during a one-on-one game. There was no pressure or expectations. Just two guys, a basketball, and enough snark between the both of us to power a solar grid.
By the time we were tied for the winning shot, every inch of fabric I had on was drenched, and Derek’s hair looked like he’d lost a fight with a blow dryer.
Strands were plastered to his forehead and stuck up in places from sweat, and for someone who probably spent ten minutes getting his look just right this morning, it was like he didn’t even care it was a mess now.
He currently had the ball, but I was right on top of him.
By this point, I had used up all my quick tricks, but I tried repeating my move from earlier that scored me the ball anyway.
And he was ready for it. Derek used my fake against me, taking off toward the hoop like a man possessed.
Luckily, I was able to pivot and get into his space before he reached the line.
Just as he let the shot go, I stretched my arms out, feeling the ball graze over my fingertips as it sailed toward the net.
It hit the rim, rolling precariously and we both collectively held our breath for the final verdict.
“Fucking please,” Derek murmured beside me, barely audible, but the desperation clear.
There was something about it that killed me, and I couldn’t hold back my smile at his competitive need to win. It was something we shared in common. But, just then, the ball dropped through the net.
I groaned dramatically, folding in half like my soul just left my body. “Nooo… my pride. My legacy. My flawless record of exactly one game!”
Derek let out a triumphant holler before promptly flopping onto his back on the cement, panting like a man who left everything on the court.
“Fuck, I am beat.”
He pulled the hem of his shirt up to wipe his face, flashing a set of very defined abs and a strip of nearly black hair that trailed down under the waistband of his joggers. My eyes darted away quickly. Those abs looked incredibly lickable…
Except, I wasn’t going there. I’d just had a full internal PSA with myself about boundaries this morning.
Making a beeline for the water bottles, I reminded myself that the friend-zone was a great place for Derek to live. I just needed a minute after that game to get my head on straight. Some hydration and mental recalibration would do me wonders.
When both of us had cooled off and weren’t dying of the heat, I suggested we hit Main Street to get lunch.
What would a tour of town be if we didn’t stop in some of the incredible eateries along the way?
I don’t know if my aptly timed stomach growl clued him in that we should eat first, tour second, but he was more than willing to do just that.
Once we were all packed up and heading to the car, I felt like I might just survive this whole living situation after all, so long as I kept thinking with the head on my shoulders and not the one between my legs.
Westwend’s Main Street had an air of timeless charm that drew the tourists in from the moment they turned onto it.
There was an ever-present aroma of freshly baked bread from Toast of the Town, one of the local breakfast and brunch places, that mingled with the seasonal blooms that hung from flower baskets adorning the wrought iron street lamps.
Banners were often hung across the street showcasing upcoming town activities and festivals that fostered a sense of unity and pride amongst the permanent residents of Westwend.
In the evening, when the sun set low and the street lamps came on, the area was cast in a warm glow that really highlighted the magic of living in a small town.
Toast of the Town had been a Westwendian staple forever. It’d been purchased three years back by a non-local couple who’d given the inside a much needed facelift. They’d knocked down the old diner’s cramped layout, swapping it for something airer and bright, while keeping its charm.
T&T, what locals affectionately called Toast of the Town, had an iconic mural on the side of its building that faced Main.
In deep navy tones, the vintage piece depicted a 50s woman holding a steaming cup elegantly with the words ‘Mmm! So good!’ in sprawling script arching over her.
Visitors were often caught snapping photos with the lady of the town.
The locals had all collectively breathed a sigh of relief when the new owners had paid to have her restored rather than painted over.
Derek and I strolled down toward T&T while I gave him the lowdown on how the town was laid out and about the farmer’s market that was held every Saturday on the lawn of Town Hall.
He listened with a quiet focus, hands shoved into the pockets of his joggers, taking in every landmark like he was building a mental map.
We were stopped more than once by a few local women, eyeing Derek with interest, but I managed to get us back on course after some short introductions.
Halfway to our destination, we passed a group of tourist girls who collectively gave him a full once-over. As he and I maneuvered by them, a few openly attempted to catch his attention. But, Derek either didn’t notice or didn’t care.
Stepping inside T&T, the scent of butter and coffee blanketed us immediately. Norma, the hostess, led us to a small table tucked near the back of the open floor plan. The place was buzzing, as usual.
“You’re going to have to tell me all about living in a big city sometime.” Norma cooed over Derek, placing our menus in front of us. He just gave her an apprehensive but polite smile. Taking that as agreement, she fluttered off back to the hostess stand.
Sandra came by to collect our drink orders, batting her thick lashes at Derek after learning he was the new resident lawyer. Once again, he’d just humored her with a small smile that had her giggling all the way back to the kitchen.
We were chatting casually over our drinks, after Sandra dropped them off with a wink in Derek’s direction, when I caught the same group of girls from earlier a few tables over. They were staring at Derek like he’d just walked off a magazine cover.
I smirked and bit the end of my straw, leaning back in my chair. “You attract a lot of attention, ya know?”
Derek looked up, frowning slightly. “What?”
“You’ve been flirted with by basically every single girl since we got onto Main and now this,” I jerked my chin toward the table behind him. “That group of girls we passed earlier? They followed you in here. And they’re lookin’ at you like you’re on the damn dessert menu.”
He shifted a little, glancing over his shoulder. One girl immediately ducked behind her menu while the rest burst into a chorus of laughter. He sighed and shook his head.
“What?” I grinned, leaning forward. “Embarrassed?”
“No,” he retorted, matter-of-fact. “But, I’m definitely not going to entertain that. ”
I scrunched my brows together. “Why not? Not into any of them?”
“Not interested in dating right now,” He replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just got out of a relationship right before accepting the job with your dad.”
I hummed around my straw, tipping my head to dip it back into my drink before taking a lazy sip. “What’s your type, then?”
He gave me a wary look.