"LET'S DO A little cardio," Carter says, and I see the line of his smile in the darkness of the gym.

"Okay." I intertwine my hands in front of me, feeling a sense of shyness creep up.

When he flicks the light on and I get a good look at him, the shyness dissolves and shock replaces it. "What happened to your face!"

He extends his hands out to calm me. "It's not a big deal, I promise."

"Not a big deal? Your left eye and right cheek are purple and throbbing."

"You should see the other guy." He dares to joke, then scratches his head. "Look, I may have gotten into a fight with a teammate after our game at St. Joseph's. Please don't make me feel worse than I already do.

"I won't." My face drops as his words wound me. I don't want him to think of my presence as worse than pain of a black eye.

He panics from my expression."I didn't mean to say it in that way. You could never make me feel worse, you actually make me feel better, that's why invited you here. I just meant that even though I think your concern is wildly cute it'll only make me feel more like shit tonight, that's all."

His over explains himself, and it leaves me grinning ear to ear. Cute, he thinks I'm wildly cute. At least my concern, that is.

"Alright, let's do some cardio then." I agree.

We spend a few minutes on the treadmill and the difference in his speed and incline compare to mines is very noticable.

"I'm tired of cardio, Carter." I whine.

"Let's take a break." he immediately pauses his machine and gets off.

I didn't expect that to be his reaction. I thought he'd encourage me to keep going. That is the reason he invited me, to keep him company and workout.

Instead, he holds his hand out, assisting me down from the minimal height of the machine. His palm feels warm, not sweaty. A nice warm that makes me want to keep holding, but as soon as I jump down, I let go. Besides the warmth of his hands, I notice bruising and some cuts, but choose to ignore it for the time being since that seems to be what he wants.

It's weird, all these little moments between us. I guess I never realized how much I've actually been yearning for things like hand holding and cuddling someone. Or maybe all this yearning is a new development? I shouldn't dwell on it, it may be something I want but it's not something I need.

"Have you been to a game before?" He asks.

"No, not quite." I drag the words out.

"Let me guess, because you never have the time?"

"Exactly," I smile. "You really get me."

A smirk curls on his lips. "Well, tonight I'll be your tour guide. Let me get you acquainted with our stadium."

The stadium is right next to the gym, so I don't follow Carter for long before he takes out a key and unlocks the door.

He ushers me in and closes the doors behind us."Well, here's our stadium." His voice and the sound of the door shutting echos.

I drop my small bag by the door and turn slowly, looking around. Even though the lights are off, I can still make out the space. It looks like a standard basketball court you'd see on an NBA game, with the squeaky marked floor and expansive bleacher seatings. The space is big, though that's most likely because it's empty right now.

"Wow, you're a really great tour guide. They should give you a raise for all your efforts,"I say.

"That's what I've been trying to tell my boss." He has a basketball in his hand that seems to have come out of nowhere.

I catch a rack by the door and realize it's stacked with basketballs.

"Lights on or off?" He asks, twirling and spinning the ball in his hand with great expertise and little effort.

I like how it looks in here right now, it's not pitch black, just dark enough to hide a blush. I don't have any blushes to hide, but if I did I'd be safe in this lighting. "Off," I nod.

"Catch." He throws the basketball in my direction.

I grasp it and move to the middle of the court. "You're gonna teach me how to play?"

"I wanna see your raw unfiltered talent." He crosses his arm. "Then maybe I'll give you some pointers, but I'm gonna warn you, a lot of people would pay a lot of money for a training session with me."

"Well I better pass on the lesson then, I can barely afford breakfast as is." I start to dribble the ball in spot.

"Really?" He turns serious.

I groan. Crap. I really need to stop lacing my shortcomings with humor. People don't find it funny, they find it concerning.

"Nope." I begin to move around, keeping my focus on the ball moving up and down.

I'm not entirely lying, my meal plan covers breakfast, lunch, and dinner four days a week. It's the other three days where I sometimes struggle to put together enough for proper food, but even then, I always at least have some snacks to eat. I'm far from starving.

"Summer." He scoops the ball up and stops me. "Are you struggling to afford food? I know it can be an embarrassing topic, but maybe-"

I reach for both sides of his unzipped hoodie and tug on then to pull his head down to my eye level. "I'm not struggling." I need him to look me in the eye, and see the false confidence that says I'm alright. There are many things I need in this life, pity isn't one of them.

He searches my eyes the same way he searched them when he tried to gouge if I was an addict back when we first met. This time I do care if he believes me, it makes all the difference.

"Okay." He throws the ball back to me and we begin a game of dribbling and throwing it back and forth. "Tell me more about your family's business. Kingston way, you said the name was?"

"There's not much to tell. It's a small restaurant where my parents make traditional Jamaican food and spend the rest of the time cursing each other for existing."

"Do you get a lot of traffic?" He asks.

I can tell where he's going with this question.

"On a good day." I remain coy.

"And how many good days have you had lately?"

"I think you can tell they're few and far in between."

"Well, I hope it all works out." Is all he says in response and I'm thankful for it.

I grab the ball and turn for the hoop, lifting my arms over my head and jumping up to fling it into the net.

The ball rolls around the rim and slowly dips its way in.

"And the crowd goes wild." Carter cheers.

"Aren't you a good little cheerleader."

"Well you fill me with pep," he says, running to pick up the ball and throwing it back in my hand.

I toss the ball between my hands and attempt another shot at the net. "Who else fills you with pep, Carter?"

The ball hits the side and falls back down before it can go through the hoop.

"I swear you're the only one." he says, playfully.

I get the ball and toss it back to him. "Yeah? Not even your friend?"

"Me and Darren are close, but we have our limits." He catches it and shoots for the hoop, making it in instantly.

"What about the other friend you mentioned once. The one you ingrained into your schedule to talk to everyday."

"Sam?" He goes still and I fear I may be crossing some line again.

"Well, yeah." My words come out less confident.

"You want to know about Sam." He murmurs.

"I mean, I wouldn't mind knowing some basics." This is just pure curiosity. He said she's important to him and as a friend, I want to know about my friend's friend.

He ushers for me to take a seat and we end up criss-crossed at half court.

"After my dad found out about my problem he sent me to a camp for troubled youth the summer after junior year. To sum the whole experience up, it was hell. Our counselors were abusive and negligent in so many ways, I don't even know how they remained open for so long."

He physically shivers from the memory. "Sam was one of the first people I met. It was her second stint there, so she knew the ropes and told me what to expect. Over the course of the Summer, we built a bond. We knew we weren't gonna get anything out of that camp experience besides more trauma, so we agreed to look out for one another and stay sober. That means talking to each other every day to ensure we stick to our sobriety.

"Oh, well that's great." I'm glad to know he has someone in that regard and I'm even more glad he's comfortable sharing everything he shares with me.

"So there's never been anything more than a friendship. No deep dark feelings in the years you've known each other?" I don't want to assume anything simply because they're of the opposite sex. Platonic relationships can exist between a girl and a guy. I just want some clarity, that's all.

"No, not once. She's like an older sister to me." he laughs. "But what about you and Cory Bush? You guys definitely have more than pseudo-sibling relationship."

"Had." I emphasize. "And I've told you the gist of things."

"Yea, but what's the history? How did it all start?"

"We both had a crush on each other in ninth grade and started dating soon after we discovered it. He was pretty much my first everything, and at that time he was starting to make a name for himself as a great football player which meant his attention was pulled everywhere, especially towards whatever pretty girl entered his sight. We finally broke up sophomore year when he nearly cheated on me and I realized he didn't have a monogamous bone in his body. We remained cordial though, and reconnected in college after I broke up with my ex. I figured at that point that neither of us wanted anything serious, so we might as well just enjoy each other's company, you know."

"Wow, he was your first everything. That's definitely history." His voice and eyes lower and I could be mistaken, but it almost looks like he's dejected by the thought.

I think deep down, no matter how much he tries to deny it, Carter does want intimacy with someone, everyone does. It's just a matter of him admitting it to himself.

"I want you to promise me something, Carter." I pause to gather my thoughts. I know what I want to say, I just hope it doesn't come out weird.

"What?" He leans forward, hand held to his ear.

"I know we've just recently become official friends and everything, but I care about you, I do. Promise me, if it's tomorrow or five years down the line, when you get the chance to love someone, please don't let it slip away just because you fear it will screw up your sobriety. It's okay to not involve yourself with anything right now, but one day, there's gonna be someone who will push you forward, not pull you back."

Even though I can't fully decipher his expression in the dark, I can feel the weight of the look he gives me. It causes me to breath heavier.

He scoots closer to me so that our knees touch. "I'll only agree if you promise me one thing.

"What?" Nerves hit me as I lean forward.

"Promise you'll make time. I admire how important school is to you, but when you get the chance to experience something real like love for example, build a schedule, implement some breaks, and make the time. I care about you too and I want you to be happy and successful."

"What do you know about love, Carter Reyes?" I smile.

"Very little, Summer Sanders, but I think I'm willing to learn one day even though I'm on my final shot." He un-crosses his legs and stands.

When he opens his hand to help lift me up, I take it. "What do you mean?"

"I'm on my final shot. You know, when the score is tied and there's only a few seconds left on the clock. The ball is in your hand and you have one last chance to prove yourself. Missing that shot could mean you lose everything you've worked for, and making it could mean getting everything you could ever dream of. I call my sobriety my final shot. If I mess up again, I know I'll lose everything."

I find myself understanding him even more. "How bad did it get?" I ask.

"I wasn't a full blow addict you could say, but I after my mom died, besides basketball, I felt nothing, I had no one. My dad completely closed off the minute her coffin was lowered into the ground. He went from a loving dad to someone who avoided me like the plague. When I discovered partying and getting high, that's when I begin to feel something. I mostly had it under control until the end of the season my junior year of high school." He pauses for a moment.

I rub his shoulder to continue. I want to know everything about him that I can. To talk to someone, to look at them, and understand what they're going through, it's a comforting thing. I hope he feels the same way.

"We had this big game and scouts were there to check out the seniors but my coach knew they'd keep an eye on me for the following year, so it was important I played well too. Before the game, I took some shrooms, not understanding their effects and ended up hallucinating in the middle of the game. There was this one player from the other team, he was like 6'9. One minute he was a regular guy, the next he turned into a giant growling bear that was going to rip my head off, so I start kicking and screaming at him, you know, to fight for my life. I couldn't understand why everyone was holding me back and looking at me like I was crazy when a giant bear had slipped it's way into our game. When I turned back again and saw him transform back into a regular guy, I knew I was screwed. My coach was so mad that he kicked me off the team until halfway through my senior season."

I look down my my hands, pulling at my nail to keep me distracted. "I nearly flunked out of school last semester because I didn't have enough time to study while working full-time. When everything started falling apart and I realize I couldn't salvage my grades, I had a big anxiety attack in the middle of the library. Everyone looked at me like I was crazy, I felt crazy. I couldn't breath, I couldn't stop crying, I couldn't stop shaking, it was all just too much. If I fail another class, I'll lose my scholarship and won't be able to afford to continue, so I'm on my final shot as well. I guess we have a lot in common."

Carter says nothing, just looking at me for what feels like ages. He opens his arms and engulfs me into a hug that melts me. He hasn't sweat the whole time, so he smells pleasant as I drink in his warmth and energy.

"So the question is, will our promises be worth the risk?" He steps back but his body is still close enough to nearly touches mine.

"For the right people, I suppose." I stare intently at him. "You just have to meet that one person."

He holds his hand out again. "If you'll shake on it, so will I."

I hesitate, bringing my hand out then pulling it back, before gaining the confidence to go in for a full handshake.

I think I can do it. I don't want to go back on our promise, so I'll give it a try so long as it doesn't create too much of a distraction. Some people are worth the risk.

With our unexpectedly serious moment behind us, we dive right back into our game.

I search for the basketball that fell off into a corner after Carter's shot and make a run for it. I hear him running behind me, and due to his superior athleticism, he catches up in no time.

"Ha! I got it." I manage to scoop it up and run towards the court.

Carter follows, and when I lift my hand to make a shot, he spreads his arms out and uses his body to block my path.

"Can you let me shoot." I try to throw it from one angle or another, and each time, he's fast as lightning, using his frame to make it impossible.

When he takes a step back and gets behind me, I think he's finally backing off, but instead, he places his hands on my waist and lifts me up off the ground.

"Here, now you can shoot," he says.

With much better aim, the ball makes it in, and I raise my hands in triumph. "Sanders just delivered the winning shot making the Pennwood penguins national champions."

Carter cheers again, shifting me to a cradle and spinning me around.

I squeal, shutting my eyes and nesting my head into his chest as the exciting dizziness kicks in.

He shifts me again, and I hang over the back of his shoulder like a rag. He begins running in a few directions, I'm not sure which because I'm so disoriented, so I just focus on the string of laughter that I can no longer control. In this moment, I swear, nothing else matters.

"You're gonna get tired very quick." I manage to say.

"Never." He continues his laps around the court, running and spinning faster the more I laugh.

When he finally lets me down, I instantly lose my balance and opt to fall to the ground.

"Woah," he breaths. "I'm thirsty now, do you want something to drink?" It doesn't even sound like he's actually exhausted and I'm incredibly impressed.

"Sure, I'll take some water," I say.

"I'll be right back." He runs out the exit door and disappears down the hall.

The court is silent only for a second before I hear my phone ringing. Thinking Aleena may need something, I run for my purse and dig in to grab it.

My dad's name is what pops up. I groan, contemplating if I should pick up.

"Hello." I finally decide to answer.

"How are you doing, sweetie?" dad's voice fills my ear. "You're on speaker and your mom is standing next to me."

"Hi Summer," My mom says.

"What's going on, why are you guys calling me so late?" I say, wanting to get straight to the point.

"Well, we have this, um." dad drags on.

I already know what they need. If there's one thing my dad knows how to do, its talk. The only time he struggles to form a sentence is when he needs to ask me one specific thing.

"We've found ourselves in another predicament." He sighs.

I don't need to be there to know he's lifting his glasses to rub his eyes like he usually does when he sounds this stressed.

He doesn't seem to be able to continue, so my mom starts talking. "We're a little behind this month. We tried everything, but couldn't scrape up enough for the electric and water bill."

"And you need my help?" My question comes out as a statement.

"Just 500 dollars if you can spare it, sweetie. It's okay if you can't. If there was any other option we swear, we wouldn't bother you," she says.

My left leg begins to shake and the only thing I want to do is scream, but I know I can't. I have to switch back to adult mode and handle business as usual.

"When do you need the money by?" I ask. I have only a quarter of it saved right now.

"Next week, sweetie. Is it something you can do?" dad finally builds the courage to speak up.

"I'll get the money," is all I say before hanging up. No matter how much I tried to convince myself this would no longer be my problem, I knew even then that the second they came running for help again, I would be there.

What am I supposed to do? They're my family, I have to look out for them. I have to fix this.

I'm gonna need to work at least 38 hours next week to make that money on time, which means I'm gonna need to miss my classes. Baker's dozen isn't a 24 hour diner, this is the only way.

I don't even want to begin to think about the impact this will have on my grades, I can't. I'll process the damage after I've scraped the money up.

My nails look a mess again. I bite down on my thumb, index, and middle finger until there's nothing left to bite.

"Breath in, breath out." I say to myself, employing the breathing exercises my counselor taught me months ago.

It helps, I'll admit, and when Carter comes back in with two bottles of water in hand, I'm able to remain composed.

"Are you okay." He breaks through despite my work.

"Yes," I grab the bottle he inches towards me, trying my best to give him a genuine smile. "Actually, do you want to get out of here? There's this place I go to sometimes, I want to show you."

I know my eyes are probably red from the tears that well in them. I won't dare let them fall. I'll enjoy the rest of tonight, and save them for my pillow instead.

"Yes, let's go." He eagerly agrees.