“Thanks.” I tuck the basketball under my arm, studying Graham as some hair flops in his face and he brushes it away. As far as high school guys go, Sydney could do far worse. But I still feel obligated to say, “You seem like a nice guy, Graham. But if you break my sister’s heart, I’ll break your face. Got it?”

Graham nods like a bobblehead. Based on the sallow pallor of his skin, he took my threat seriously. As he should. I’m pretty sure rumors about the fights by the old courts never made it past the popular crowd because I’m certain Sydney would have said something to me if she had any idea.

“I’m not much of an athlete,” he tells me, nodding to the hoop. “So I’m going to head inside.”

I chuckle. “Okay.”

Graham walks toward the house. I spin and start to dribble.

“That was…sweet?”

I pause to glance over one shoulder, squinting at the shadows until Cassia appears, zipping up the jacket she’s wearing. I palm the basketball as she approaches, rough rubber rolling against my thigh as I move the ball back and forth. “Just making sure he knows where we stand.”

“I’m pretty sure you scared the shit out of him.”

I shoot, smiling at the satisfying swoosh as the ball sinks through the basket. I jog forward to retrieve the basketball, then tell her, “Good.”

She rolls her eyes at me—again—and it makes me want to kiss her. So I suggest the only thing that might distract me right now.

I nod toward the hoop. “Want to play?”

“With you?”

Her voice is comically shocked. I make a show of looking around the empty driveway, just to be a dick. “Good guess.”

“It’s just—I—we haven’t, in a while.”

“I know.” My fault, I think, and she’s probably thinking the same. “Want to?”

Cassia glances around like she’s looking for the right answer. Or maybe she’s just stalling for time.

“Nevermind.”

“No.” She unzips the jacket she just zipped and pulls it off. The shirt she’s wearing underneath clings to her stomach and breasts, and I realize this probably was a terrible idea.

Desire pools in my stomach. Getting turned on is not normally something I need to worry about while playing.

“Let’s do it.”

I know exactly what she’s referring to, but my mind still goes straight to the gutter. I need to focus before my body starts thinking for me. “You start.”

She catches the pass I bounce to her. “You think I’m rusty?”

“Are you?”

The last time I saw Cassia play basketball was in middle school. She didn’t try out for the high school team, even though she easily could have made it. Not asking her why she hadn’t was the biggest test of my resolve back then.