I Don't Want to Be Friends

by Camilla Isley

“No, I’m good, thanks,” Madison said.

  “Me, too,” echoed Haley.

  Alice left, and Haley concentrated on the players doing their warm-up drills… until her vision was blocked by a tall body.

  “Hello, ladies.” David had materialized in front of them, clad in a Crimson-supporter outfit: Harvard Crimson long-sleeved T-shirt and baseball hat, jeans, and sneakers. Popcorn in one hand, a soda in the other. “So nice of you to reserve me a spot.”

  Haley gasped. Her nostrils filled with his familiar day-on-a-boat-out-at-sea scent, and she met his eyes for an instant before quickly looking away. Not that it saved her from receiving a Taser-like electric shock. David carried on as if nothing weird had happened between them, sliding in front of her to go sit next to Madison, one seat down from Haley.

  “That’s Alice’s seat,” Madison protested.

  “Here.” David lodged the soda between his legs and used his free hand to remove his baseball hat and throw it on the empty chair to his left. He wiggled on the seat to push aside Alice’s coat as well. “She can take my spot. I like to sit in the middle.”

  “What are you doing here?” Madison insisted.

  “Hey, I might not be on the team anymore, doesn’t mean I’m not a fan.”

  Haley made a point of keeping her eyes trained on the court below them and not looking at him. It was too soon. For the past few days, she had purposely forbidden her brain from wandering anywhere near the David topic, but the fact remained that Scott had forced her to admit there was something between them. And now Haley’s stupid heart wouldn’t let her take it back.

  “Oh, hello,” Alice said, surprised when she came back to find her seat taken. “You’re in my seat.”

  Haley made an effort to follow the conversation, pretending she was looking—and thinking—elsewhere while she used her peripheral vision to track David’s every movement.

  He patted the chair next to him. “You’ve been moved to the left.”

  “Why don’t you move to the left?”

  “Come on, Alice, be nice. I promise I won’t bite.” Then he flashed her one of his most dashing smiles. “Popcorn?”

  To Haley’s dismay, Alice capitulated. She took a handful of popcorn and sat down just as the referee whistled to signal the game had started. They all followed the match in silence until about ten minutes in, when everyone around them, David included, shot up from the bleachers, yelling angrily against the referee.

  Haley, Madison, and Alice were pretty much the only three people still seated in the whole stadium.

  “What’s going on?” Alice asked, once David was back in his seat.

  “As the current and former girlfriend of two team captains, you know an awful little about the game.”

  “I hate watching sports. I’m a hero just for being here.”

  “Well, you came to see all Peter’s games, so now you can’t miss one of Jack’s, can you?”

  Alice glared at him.

  “Oops, wasn’t I supposed to say that? Are we pretending you and Peter never happened?”

  “Why don’t you harass someone else?”

  “Well, your friend over there is doing all she can to pretend I don’t exist.” Haley did her best not to respond to the provocation, or even give notice she’d heard him. “And, as for Blondie here,” David continued. “I’ve harassed her enough for a lifetime—”

  “A-men,” Madison interjected.

  “So that leaves just the two of us,” David concluded.

  “I’m such a lucky girl.” Alice scoffed. “On second thought, since I’m stuck with you…” Alice smacked David on the leg, just above the knee. “I always say the wrong thing to Jack after a game, and I have a feeling that if I say ‘congratulations for winning’ tonight, he’ll bite my head off. Care to explain why, even though we’re winning, Jack has his ‘game-over’ face on and Coach Morrison looks like he’s about to have an apoplectic fit? If he shouts any louder, he’ll spit out his vocal cords all the way over here.”

  Haley kept her eyes trained on the game, but that didn’t stop her from eavesdropping on David and Alice. The truth was none of the girls understood much about basketball, and she, too, never knew how to talk to Scott after a game. So it’d be nice to have someone finally explain it all. Even if she couldn’t openly acknowledge she was interested in what David was saying.

  “Jack and the coach are mad because we’re playing like crap,” he explained.

  “But we’re ahead by twelve points. How can we be playing like crap and still lead by so much?”

  “Well, that’s easy: the other team is playing worse than us. If we were up against a half-decent team, they’d be hammering us.”

  “What are they doing wrong?”

  “For starters, the new guy, number 1.” David pointed at the court. “He has some big shoes to fill.”

  “Whose shoes?”

  “Peter. He’s replaced him as shooting guard—”

  “Which is?”

  “As the name suggests, the player who takes the most shots. He’s usually the scoring leader, the MVP.” David pointed to three imaginary spots as he spelled out each letter. “Most. Valuable. Player.”

  “And the guy isn’t good?”

  “Oh, no, the guy is good. But Peter was phenomenal. Let’s just say this guy is not getting drafted by the NBA next year.”

  “I think I’m not gonna use that as a talking point with Jack.”

  David chuckled. “Wise girl.”

  “So what role is Jack playing?”

  “Point guard. He’s the game-maker, the one responsible for bringing the ball down the court and launching offensive plays. He directs the team.”

  “And he’s doing a poor job?”

  “No, the captain’s the only one keeping up last year’s standards.”

  Haley couldn’t pretend not to be listening anymore. She turned toward David and asked, “Are you saying Scott’s a bad player?”

  “Hey, hello there.” He waved at her.

  Haley glared at him.

  “I’m afraid Scotty isn’t at his best tonight.”

  “What’s his role?” Madison asked.

  “Center. He’s the team’s muscle.”

  “So what’s he doing wrong?” Haley asked.

  “Almost everything tonight.”

  “Why?”

  David studied the action taking place at the moment, his eyes roaming the court as they followed his brother around. Haley imitated him. MIT had the ball, and their number 12 was trying to find an opening into the Crimson defenses, that much was clear. The MIT guy with the ball passed it to a teammate close to Matt. This other guy caught the ball, feinted to the right, then sprung left instead, dribbled away from Matt, shot the ball toward the rim, and… missed. Scott jumped up in synchrony with another player from MIT, both of them reaching out for the ball… and the other guy got it, turned, and dunked it right into the hoop with both hands.

  Admittedly, not Scott’s best play. She turned to David to see if he had more of an insight.

  David frowned, still studying the game. Finally, he whispered, “He’s afraid.”

  “Afraid? Of what?”

  “Of taking a hit to the head.” David turned toward her. “He’s supposed to be physically dominating the adversaries, getting the rebounds, blocking defenders, and opening other players up for driving to the basket… But look.” He pointed to the court. “As soon as he sees as much as an elbow coming his way, he shies away.”

  “Oh.” Haley was worried now. “It’s the fall, isn’t it?”

  “Must be.” David shrugged. “He never had this problem before.”

  “So what now?”

  “If he keeps playing like that, the coach will bench him.”

  “Can you help him?”

  David tilted his head to the side and studied her for a second or two with that impossibly sexy smirk of his. “When you ask it like that,” he said, win
king, “you know I can’t say no.”

  Twelve

  David

  “Rise and shine,” David announced in a sing-song voice, entering his brother’s room on Sunday morning, three days after Scott’s dreadful performance at Thursday’s home game.

  Scott was sleeping like a baby and barely stirred under the covers.

  That won’t do, David thought. With a vicious sense of satisfaction, he slid the blinds open and let the bright daylight do the dirty work for him.

  True to expectations, Scott woke up with a groan, shouting, “Go away!” and trying to shield his eyes by burrowing his head under the sheets.

  “Nah, ah, ah.” David reached for the other end of the comforter and pulled in the opposite direction.

  Scott jumped up into a sitting position and glared at him. The look could’ve worked, save that it was clear Scott still had morning foggy vision and couldn’t properly focus on objects or people.

  In fact, his brother rubbed his eyes before saying, “What’s wrong with you?”

  “C’mon, Scotty, you don’t want to spend the day in bed. The sun is shining and I’m dying to shoot a few hoops.”

  “What? You want to play basketball? No way.”

  “I’ve made you breakfast.”

  “Huh?”

  “Breakfast is ready, the court is booked, and now all you have to do is get your ass out of bed.” David snapped his fingers twice. “Chop, chop.”

  “David, I hate to break it to you, but the last thing I want to do today is play basketball. Practice and the games are enough, and Sunday is my day off.”

  David stared at the ceiling with the air of a martyr. “Well, I tried the sugar coated version…” He sat at the foot of the bed and patted his brother’s legs. “If the simple joy of shooting a few hoops with your big brother isn’t enough of an incentive, let me tell you how today is going to play out. You’ll quit the Sleeping Beauty act, get out of bed, and eat the breakfast I prepared for you with all my brotherly love. Then you’re coming with me to the gym, and we’re going to play.”

  “Or else?”

  David flared his nostrils. “Or else Coach Morrison is going to realize you’re playing like a scared little girl and bench you for the rest of the season. Thursday night you were lucky MIT was full of crap. But the first team with a smidgen of talent is going to crush you, and you’ll let them because you’re afraid of a little confrontation. So today I’ll rough you up until you’re all set and good to go. Sound right?”

  Scott shot him a glare. “It was one bad game.”

  “You missed nine rebounds out of ten. You got away with it once, but next time… Coach Morrison is going to catch on sooner or later. It took me about five minutes.”

  Scott finally threw the covers away and swung his feet off the bed. “What’s this lovely breakfast you made?”

  “Milk and cereal.” David smirked, standing up.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Scott said under his breath, getting out of bed.

  “Hey, there’s coffee, too.”

  ***

  The more awake Scott became, the more hostile he turned toward David. It was as if he’d remembered he was supposed to be mad at David but had forgotten in the few minutes after waking up. They ate breakfast in silence and walked to the gym in silence, the only sound that of the basketball David was bouncing off the concrete.

  Once at their destination, David ran into the indoor court, putting on a little dribbling exhibition. Then he bounced the ball in a wide arc off the floor, leaped high, and slammed the thing. He caught the ball as it swished through the net and dribbled it back to where Scott was looking at him, unimpressed, from the midcourt line.

  David and Scott stood in the center circle, facing each other like gladiators in the arena.

  “You ready?” David asked.

  “Do I have a choice?” Scott said.

  “It’s your life,” David said, dropping the ball at Scott’s feet.

  “Yeah, it is.” His brother picked up the ball while David spread his feet and arms, ready to defend.

  David jerked his chin at the ball. “Let’s see it.”

  Scott pulled up and let go of a twenty-footer.

  Swish. It was in.

  David ran to the basket to grab the ball and slung it back to Scott, then dropped back into his defensive stance. “C’mon, Scotty, that’s cheating. We need to go head to head. Know what I mean?” David snickered.

  Scott just blinked at him. Then he pulled up and sank another.

  David retrieved the ball again. “That’s how you wanna play it?” He resumed his position. “I’ve got all day.”

  Scott pulled up again and buried another one.

  That was it. David gave him the ball again, but this time he crowded right up next to Scott.

  “What happened to all day?” Scott asked. Then he started to dribble, putting the ball on the floor for the first time since their mock game had started.

  With a spurt forward, he drove for the basket, only to have David smack the ball away.

  “Is that all you got, brother?” David taunted. “Because if that’s your best game, you’re benched for the rest of the season.” With that, he slashed through the lane, shot, and scored.

  Scott flared his nostrils, annoyed.

  David fired the ball back at him. “Show me what you have.”

  Scott dribbled, feinted right and darted left, but David saw the move coming and was on him in an instant, taking the ball away again. He pivoted on his heels, bolted for the basket, and scored again. And again. And again. And again.

  “Is your butt already getting comfortable on the bench?” David taunted, before he flung the ball back at his brother.

  As soon as his fingers had a secure grip on the ball, an enraged Scott charged at him like a bull. He threw a shoulder into his chest and spun hard, catching David’s nose with a vicious elbow thrust. David bent at the waist, holding his nose with his hand as a few droplets of blood dripped down. In the background, he heard the ball swish past the net.

  “You had enough?”

  Scott’s angry voice made him turn.

  “Why stop now?” David asked, pulling up the bottom of his tank top to wipe his face. “You’re just starting to get the gist of it.”

  Scott pushed the ball on his chest. “Be my guest, but you won’t score again.”

  David snickered. Then he backed off and worked a crossover dribble, trying to set his brother up. He faked left. And when Scott leaned, David darted right. He went past Scott in a flash, gaining a straight shot to the basket. David leaped and let go of a sweet finger roll. But before it reached its height, Scott pinned it against the backboard, blocking David’s action. And the next. And the next. And the next.

  David came down from another failed jump and stared at his brother. “Look who’s back.”

  Scott glared at him.

  “Is that all the gratitude I get for helping you?”

  “Helping me?” Scott discarded the ball to the side with an angry throw and marched on him. “Were you also trying to help me on Halloween?” He shoved David back with both hands.

  David staggered a few steps backward. “Uh-oh. Someone is pouty…”

  “Stay the hell away from me, David, and from her.” Scott glowered at him one last time, adding, “I mean it.” Then he stormed out of the gym.

  “You’re welcome,” David whispered to the thin air.

  Haley

  “I’m about to make a proposal that might be very unpopular,” Alice announced, coming into the living room.

  It was Friday afternoon and, instead of gearing up for an evening out, the girls were all wearing sweatpants, ready to watch the Stanford vs Harvard game on TV that was scheduled to start in less than an hour at 5 p.m. Crazy as it sounded, the game was neither in California or Massachusetts, but it would take place in Shanghai. Apparently, both the Crimson and the Cardinal wanted to do a litt
le brand-building, despite being already well-known internationally.

  “What is it?” Haley asked, just as Madison said, “If you’re about to suggest we renounce popcorn because it’s not healthy, you’re out.”

  “It’s not food related,” Alice said.

  Both Haley and Madison stared up at her expectantly.

  “I thought,” Alice said, wringing her hands, “we could invite David over to watch the game with us.”

  The proposition earned Haley’s roommate two sets of raised brows.

  “Before you say ‘no,’ hear me out.” Alice raised her palms to forestall any protest. “I know you both have your issues with him, but… He was really useful last week when he explained everything that was going on play-by-play. First time I could talk to Jack about a game. And David’s probably going to watch the game anyway… so I figured…”

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Haley said unequivocally.

  She hadn’t told the girls about Halloween. If she had, she was sure Alice would’ve never proposed anything like that. And she wasn’t planning on telling them now, but still, David in her house, while Scott was away, was a big, fat no!

  Unfortunately, Madison had the opposite reaction. She shrugged and said, “I don’t mind. If we have to watch the damn game, we might as well understand what’s going on. It’s so boring when we can only count the points.”

  With one roommate convinced, Alice turned to Haley with a pleading expression. “Please? David really helped last time…” Haley was about to say ‘no’ again when Alice continued with her argument. “What if he’s watching the game at home all alone and sad?”

  Haley scowled. “Think more at a bar and with a girl on his arm.”

  Alice switched to a passive-aggressive approach. “Okay, if you don’t want to, I’ll drop it.”

  Haley puffed her cheeks up and let the air out in an impatient huff. “How important is this to you?”

  Alice joined her hands in prayer. “Very, very important. Crucial to my relationship’s health.”

  “Oh, come on,” Madison said, coming to Alice’s aid. “The game is more fun when David’s explaining it.”

  True.