In answer, she sends the ball flying. I track the movement as it arcs and falls directly through the basket.

It hits the asphalt driveway with a loud smack. When I glance at Cassia with a brow raised, she smiles.

“Thank God. It would have been really embarrassing if I’d missed.”

Laughter spills out without permission as I retrieve the ball and pass it to her again. “Why did you stop playing?”

I regret the question instantly. Cassia’s expression turns somber as she rubs her fingers against the rough rubber, pressing hard enough tiny circles are probably indenting into her skin. “Just outgrew it, I guess.”

I scoff. She might as well have told me it’s none of my business. “Sure.”

Her eyes narrow. “It’s true. Sports take up a lot of time. I knew I needed great grades in high school to get into a good college.”

“Colleges also like admitting student athletes,” I point out. Digging the hole I’m in deeper, based on her annoyed expression.

“Why do you think I stopped playing?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”

“Years later. You must have drawn conclusions at the time.”

I exhale, looking away and running a hand through my hair. “You want me to say I thought it had something to do with me, Cassia? Fine, I thought it might have had something to do with me.”

“You think I make my decisions based on you? I’m not that pathetic, Holden.” She spits the words, and I realize I’ve colossally fucked up by bringing this subject up. There’s no satisfaction that I’ve cracked her sweet exterior. She’s mad and hurt, and it’s my fault. The realization sits in my stomach like a lump of lead.

“I don’t think you’re pathetic.”

“Gee, thanks.”

I inhale and exhale deeply, trying to release some frustration. Trying to come up with some way to salvage the conversation. But Cassia isn’t done.

“You think the fact I gave you a blowjob means I want you? Means I’ve forgiven you? God, you’ve got a lot of nerve, Holden. But you always did, didn’t you? You’ve always done whatever the hell you want. Fuck the consequences. Fuck other people’s feelings.” She shakes her head and drops the ball. It bounces a couple of times and then rolls away toward the bushes. “Just don’t talk to me. We’re not even friends, remember?”

Cassia storms past me and inside. I listen to her and say nothing. I’m not sure what I would’ve anyway. Do I try to explain? Tell her the distance between us was my fucked-up way of trying to look out for her? Or do I focus on basketball, on my future, and go back to doing my best to ignore her?

I grab the basketball and slam it against the backboard so hard the whole hoop rattles.