It took every ounce of my strength and composure to put up a brave face and manage a nonchalant nod. "Trance."
Jarlin didn't advance nor retreat. His gaze fell on the ball he was quickly passing between his hands. I wasn't sure if he was feeling as tense as I was. If he ever was, he's doing a great job at not showing it because he never fumbled with the ball. I didn't know if he was trying to impress me either. Because I was thoroughly impressed. Damn it.
"You look well," he mused after some time, his eyes never leaving the ball.
Well, compared to me he was looking much better, more grown-up...even more admirable. But he didn't need to know that. I was already gawking at him, trying to reconcile what changed in the boy I met two years ago. That should be a dead giveaway. "Where's Zach?" I croaked, peeling my eyes away from him and landing on a less interesting thing...like the garbage can.
"With his soccer team," he casually said and inside my head, I was already devising a plan to murder Zach for making me walk into this trap.
I avoided Zach so I wouldn't have to hear anything about this guy. I had not expected that I might hear everything from the guy himself!
"Care to shoot some hoops just like old times?" he asked, as if sensing the tension I was unconsciously emitting.
My scheming idea ground into a halt at his words. Suddenly, I was torn between leaving and staying. The prospect of playing against one of the best basketball players my age whom I knew was very tempting. But the fear of letting him see my brokenness was unnerving. "I don't think-"
Without warning, he passed the ball to me. My knees might have been compromised but my reflexes were still good so I was able to catch it. "See? Your instincts say this is a good idea."
A toss coin decided who got to have the first shot. It was I. The moment he assumed his defensive stance, I flew past him and headed to the basket for a lay-up, momentarily forgetting my injury. The ball hit the ring. "Shit."
Looking amused, Jarlin smiled and shook his head as I followed him while he was dribbling the ball. Before I knew it, he had already made a basket and he was handing the ball over to me.
I forced myself out of his trance (which made a great pun by the way) and I attempted a fade-away shot. But it hit nothing but air that I groaned so loud because he saw it. Jarlin saw me make an air-ball. It was a rookie mistake and it was so embarrassing I wanted the ground to open and swallow me whole or wake me up from this fucking nightmare.
"You seem distracted," he commented with a grin.
I ground my molars together and tried hard to ignore him. How could he close-caption what I was going through? Was I that obvious? Did he notice how I was tracking his movements, the coordination of his feet and hands, how he was so focused at getting a shot inside the basket as flawlessly as possible?
Jarlin chortled out of nowhere as he kept dribbling the ball away from me.
"What's funny, Trance?" I snapped at him, irritated at myself as I was treated to how even more handsome he had become whenever he gave that lopsided smile.
"It's very much like the day we first met, don't you think?"
I frowned and racked my brain from the memory he was referring to. I did play against him the first time we met because all interested applicants had to play me, the captain. Zach somehow had an inkling that Jarlin would be a good addition to the team. He was right. Jarlin beat me. Twice.
But Jarlin was wrong in saying that this was just like Senior High. I wasn't the captain and this wasn't a co-ed team. "It's nothing like it."
He dribbled the ball behind him with ease and I wanted to punch him for showing off. "It mostly is. Only in reverse."

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Rematch
ChickLitA year after leaving San Jose, California, Justine Marthens finds her niche in Berkeley-Reagan International School somewhere south of Metro Manila, Philippines. Is moving to a new country going to give her a new beginning or is she just delaying th...