Day 71: Horse

“Yeah? Fuck you too, Erika.” I spin, heading for the door on wobbly legs.

“What’s his problem?” Someone asks, but music drowns out any replies.

The backyard is crowded, with everyone dancing and drinking around the pool. For fucks sake. I grab another beer and push through, leaving the noise behind.

Dribble, dribble, clang, bounce. Dribble, dribble, clang, bounce.

Alone in the driveway is—shit, that’s Matt Fowler. Basketball phenom, full ride to Iowa, three years ahead of me. I take a second to stare. Everyone crushed on Matt Fowler. Including me.

“Hey,” he calls between dribbles. “Want to play?”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s