“I dare you to stare at your reflection every morning and say, ‘You’ve got this.’ ”
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~ Elizabeth ~
“Woooosh!”
The ball vanished from my hands before I could react. Patrick swept past me like wind, dunking it into the hoop for what felt like the hundredth time. All I could do was stare.
We’d been playing for over an hour now. I was drenched in sweat, my lungs burning from exhaustion.
Sure, I wasn’t exactly WNBA material, but I wasn’t terrible either. Still, compared to Patrick—whose every move screamed mastery—I might as well have been a rookie on her first day.
“Do you have any final words, Bethely?” he stepped closer, the ball tucked under his armpit like it had always belonged there.
I shook my head, unable to utter a word… his scent surrounded me—sweat, grass, something wild… beautiful, yet intoxicating. Am I still sane?
“You sure?” he asked again, and our eyes locked. My mouth went dry. We were so close I could feel his breath fan across my skin.
Then, he reached out and held my chin—and I froze. But I didn’t stop him.
I couldn’t.
“Beth…” My name fell from his lips like a question, a whisper, and though I knew I should say something, do something… I didn’t.
He moved closer, and I felt his lips graze mine—until they met. My eyes widened, but I still didn’t stop him.
He kissed me. And slowly, hesitantly, I kissed him back… like my life depended on it.
I heard the ball fall to the ground with a soft thud, but neither of us moved.
“Patrick…” I breathed his name, as something inside me stirred—wild and aching. I felt like an addict, finally getting a hit after being starved.
“Breathe…” he whispered into my mouth, holding me tight. My hands had made their way around his neck, without permission.
And the more he kissed me, the more I wanted—needed—more. I was drowning in something I didn’t fully understand… or maybe I did, but wouldn’t admit it.
“Little Virginia…” The nickname cut through the haze like a sharp blade. The spell broke. My eyes snapped open.
I pushed him away.
We stared at each other—me, flushed and shaken. Him… unreadable.
He just shrugged.
Shrugged. Like it meant nothing.
But that was my first kiss.
I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror nearby—my hair disheveled, face red like a tomato, lips swollen, outfit roughened. I looked… pathetic.
How could I have let this happen?
How?
How could I give myself to someone who didn’t care?
Suddenly, I wasn’t frozen anymore—I was running. Running out of the basketball arena before Patrick could see my tears.
I didn’t even see where I was going. I crashed right into Luke’s chest. “Easy, easy…” His arms caught me before I could fall.
Maybe it was because I missed Dad so badly it hurt… or maybe I was just too emotional today… but I burst into tears in his arms.
“Oh… Luke.” I sobbed into his chest.
“Shhh… let it out…” His voice was soft, steady. I cried harder. How could I have been so stupid?
Why didn’t I leave when Luke did? Why did I stay behind? Why?
Regret hit me like a wave. My chest ached.
I don’t know how long I cried, or when I stopped… just that I heard his voice again.
“Feeling better?”
I nodded, a little embarrassed, and slowly pulled away.
Before I could speak, he led me to a nearby faucet. I washed my face, letting the cold water shock me awake.
“Here.” I turned to find him handing me a small face towel. I took it and mumbled a quiet, “Thanks.”
Just as I thought I could retreat, Luke stretched out his palm.
It reminded me of Patrick’s earlier gesture—but somehow… it didn’t feel the same. It didn’t feel wrong.
I placed my hand in his.
And with Luke… I felt safe. Just like I did with my parents.
Was this some kind of fatherly instinct kicking in?
---
We walked. For how long, I don’t know.
Eventually, we reached a lake—secluded, framed by tall palm trees and wild shrubs. The only sounds came from chirping birds and the soft rustling of leaves.
“This has always been my favorite spot on campus,” Luke said, as we sat on large stones near the water’s edge. 
“It’s so peaceful here,” I replied, tossing a pebble into the water. I watched the ripples spread, calm and endless, like my thoughts. 
“Yeah. Perfect place to relax and find inspiration.”
“Oh?” I turned to him, curiosity sparking. “You write?”
“Took you long enough to notice,” he grinned. “I’m a writer. A poet, actually.”
His face lit up in a way Patrick’s never had. Why was I comparing again?
“So… you made my mom swoon with your words?”
“Obviously,” he chuckled. “She couldn’t resist my poetic charms.”
I laughed. He smiled.
“Your mom… she’s different,” he added, eyes soft. “She reminds me of an angel in human form.”
II nodded, touched by the sincerity in his voice. “She is. You’d be the luckiest man in the world if she ends up with you.”
“Well, well… I don’t doubt that,” he said with a confident grin.
A warmth spread through me—not just for Mom, but the idea of her being with someone who genuinely cared. Someone who saw her worth.
“But first things first,” Luke turned to me, “tell me about you.”
“What do you want to know?” I asked slowly.
“You can start with what happened back there…”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Very.”
His tone was sure. I realized then—I wasn’t going anywhere until I told him.
And maybe… that wasn’t such a bad thing.
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A/N: What do you think of the chapter, guys?