He looked at me over his shoulder as he pulled his hair into a little half-knot.
“Please. You look like you pulled something tying your shoes.” He tossed.
“Keep talking,” I warned. “It just digs your grave deeper.”
We dribbled the ball around for a few minutes, me giving out half-hearted trash talk, hoping to get Colton to respond back in kind and loosen up. There were some lazy jabs back, but nothing to his usual caliber. It was clear he wasn’t going to entertain this plan of mine, so onto the next one I went.
We decided to play best of five. That made the stakes higher and I ribbed Colton that if he kept going easy on me, he’d end up forfeiting any chance at tying our record. It’d earned me a half-grin which told me the real Colton wanted to come out—he wanted to play. He just wasn’t giving himself permission.
I pivoted past him, sinking the layup easily and without much counter from Colton. My heart sank a little, thinking this might not work.
“You going to let me win?” I called, hoping I could provoke him into caring.
“No!” He shot back.
“Well then, come on!” I motioned with my hands to emphasize my words.
Maybe it was my taunting, maybe it was him actuallyrealizing he had no chance of winning if he didn’t actually play, but things seemed to shift after that.
We went back and forth for a while, sneakers squeaking on concrete and the ball echoing each time it smacked the ground. I drove toward the basket, only for Colton to block me. I shoved his shoulder playfully and he sent me a real grin.
When he darted right, I blocked. He spun left and I lunged, nearly knocking the ball loose. He maintained control and whirled past me, whooping with joy as he sank the ball. I couldn’t help but grin, teeth flashing, and he grinned back.
“Too slow, old man!” He panted, coming back over to shove me lightly.
“Old man?” I barked a laugh. “I’m younger than your brothers!”
He shrugged. “Practicallyancient.”
“I’m only two years older than you!” I protested again.
I went to grab him to put him in a headlock but he evaded me, chuckling. God, this felt right. He was definitely more himself. Loose. Cocky. Completely in his element.
Things were slotting back into place for us, and I couldn’t help but feel… elated.
Our game continued on, Colton ribbing me and me throwing it right back. After a few more minutes, both of us were drenched in sweat from the afternoon heat.
“Alright, alright,” Colton said, bracing his hands on his knees. His chest rose and fell beneath the soaked fabric of his shirt. “Last one. Then I take eternal bragging rights.”
“Bold of you to assume you’ll win,” I replied, wiping the sweat off my forehead with the back of my arm. “What’s going to be your excuse when you lose?”
He passed me the ball with a confident grin, “Bold of you to assume I haven’t been hustling you this whole time.”
I bit my lip to suppress my grin, “Okay, ball-shark.”
“You have no idea.” He winked.
This round was full of all the enthusiasm and energy that all our other games had. It was fast-paced and full of more bumping, grabbing, and struggling for control. I tried to fake him out but ended up losing the ball. My attempt to regain the upper hand was useless, my energy waning in the sweltering heat.
Colton looked so graceful as he leapt into the air, sinking the ball directly into the net.
“Let’s fucking go!” He cried triumphantly.
The light in his eyes was bright and it was hard not to smile at the joy radiating off him. Part of me was sore I had lost, but a bigger part of me was just so happy to see Colton acting like himself again.
Unable to hold the pretense that I wasn’t exhausted any longer, I flopped onto the concrete to drape myself over my knees, panting heavily.
“I should have bet you something,” He said, making me look up.
