Strings of Fate: The First Loop

CHAPTER 7

She didn’t reach out or hold my hand. She didn’t need to. Her voice did it for her, low, steady, and firm like she was handing me something valuable and trusting I’d know what to do with it.

I looked at her. Really looked.

The way her lips curved when she was thinking. The slight tilt of her head when she was waiting for me to respond. Her lashes casting faint shadows on her cheeks. The light catching on her dimple when she allowed herself the tiniest grin.

She brushed her hair behind her ear again, then tugged at the hem of her blouse like it might suddenly wrinkle.

She didn’t realize she was doing it.

But I saw it all. Every little thing.

And in that moment, I wasn’t thinking about math anymore. Or grades. Or proving anything to anyone.

I was thinking about how something as simple as sitting beside Betty made me feel like I wasn’t completely lost.

Like maybe I still had something worth building.

Even if I didn’t know what that was yet.

“Ever tried shooting a ball into a ring?” I blurted, the question tumbling out of me like a reflex.

Betty blinked, then let out a small laugh. “That’s random.”

I shrugged, already standing. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

She closed her notebook, gave me a mock-stern look. “This better be educational.”

“It is. Physics and stuff.”

We both laughed.

The gym smelled like rubber soles and worn-out leather. It echoed faintly with our steps, hollow and wide, like the place itself was holding its breath.

I grabbed a ball from the rack and spun it once on my finger, just because I knew how. Betty stood near the free-throw line, arms crossed, eyebrows raised.

“Show off,” she said, squinting at me like she was trying to solve an equation.

I tossed the ball to her gently. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got.”

She positioned herself, knees slightly bent like she’d seen players do on TV. Then she launched it… and it didn’t even touch the rim. Just a sad bounce that barely made it halfway before surrendering to gravity.

We both burst out laughing.

“Okay, okay, that was just a warm-up,” she insisted, cheeks flushed.

“Sure it was,” I teased. “Try again, Curry.”

She took another shot, this one arching higher but still missing completely. The ball bounced away toward the corner of the gym. I jogged to get it, then returned and spun around dramatically.

“This is how it’s done,” I said. Then, with my back to the basket, I tossed it over my shoulder.

Swish.

Her jaw dropped. “You did not just---!”

I turned back to her, grinning. “Told you. Physics and stuff.”

She smacked my arm lightly, giggling. “You’re impossible.”

God, I loved that sound. Her laugh, it filled the gym more than the echo ever could. Like for once, this big, empty space wasn’t empty at all.

“Alright,” I said, tossing the ball back to her. “If you make five in a row, I’ll buy you ice cream.”

Her eyes lit up with determination. “Deal.”