Standing alongside the basketball court outside St. Caitlin’s, she watched him do a spinning reverse dunk. “Good one,” she said.

He beamed. “You want to try?” He tossed her the ball.

She bounced the ball a few times, walked out past the free throw line, then another fifteen feet and threw one up. Nothing but net, had there been a net. He grunted, gathered up the ball, and tossed it back to her. She bounced it once and let it fly. Swish.

“All right then, that’s your beginner’s luck,” he said, tossing her the ball a third time. Facing away from the basket, she sky-hooked it over her head.

“You think you’re pretty hot, stuff, don’t you?” he said.

She smirked. “I got game.”

“Then you’re up for a little one-on-one?”

“I don’t know, you’re what, six-four in your stocking feet?” She eyed his somewhat battered gym shoes, glanced at his spanking new shorts, his sky-blue jersey, his arrogantly blue eyes, then back to those blue shorts.

“I don’t know,” she said.

“So you’re saying your chicken?”

She shook her head. “Give me the home court advantage and you wouldn’t stand a chance.

“You’re on.”

She led him around the corner of the church to the annex and unlocked the door.

“You have a key, huh?” he said.

She held it up. “It even works. My uncle’s the pastor and Tuesdays I come over to do laundry and wash the floors and stuff.”

He followed her down some stairs and flicked on some flickering lights.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Home court,” she said.

“Um, where’s the goal?”

“That basket in the corner.”

“And what are these ... pillar things?”

“Teammates.”

“Right. Anything else I should know about?”

“That’s just about it. Except you gotta play in your socks. Don’t want any skid marks on my nice clean floor. First to five wins. Now strip.”

“All the way?”

“Except for the socks. I’m not doing you sweaty shorts after I cream you.”

Once they were naked, all but their socks, she tossed him the ball. One bounce and he slipped. She snatched the ball and dropped it in the laundry basket. “One zip,” she said.

“That’s not...” he started to say.

“Hush,” she quieted him, bouncing the ball.

She faked left, feinted right, and juked him nearly out of his socks. “Woah,” he said, backing up and banging his head on the ceiling. “Ouch.”

“Two zip,” she said.

He crouched. She spun. He leaned. He leaned too far. She twisted past him. “Three zip.”

Four zip when she banked a shot off two walls and the ceiling.

He shook his head.

“Okay,” she said. “One more for all the marbles. But if you can steal the ball you can have your way with me.”

“Really?”

She grinned.

She had her way with him.