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and whether or not they agree with the relationship, it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. It’s important to them. I made that mistake with you and Zach.” I cringe, remembering how Zach cheated on me with my best friend Marissa. Mom pats my knee before she continues. “Yeah, he was a jerk. But if I would have acknowledged that you liked him, I may have been able to be there more when everything…”
    “Went to hell?” I offer.
    “Exactly.”
    I nod as Mom continues. “But don’t interpret that ‘special friend’ moment as them not acknowledging or liking you. With trying to slide into the governor’s seat, they have to be extra careful in everything they say. Who knows what’s next for them, maybe a presidential run?”
    “Yeah, that’s what I told Justin. I can deal with it. It makes sense, especially when the guy who barged into the conversation is the one giving Mr. Marshall money in hopes he can snag Justin for a reality college bachelor show.”
    Mom laughs. “Reality TV? Justin!? No, no, no. He’s too real to do reality TV. His dad isn’t forcing him, is he?”
    “No. Absolutely not.”
    Mom nods. “Okay, well, why don’t we have Justin’s family over for dinner? A way for us all to get to know one another.”
    I squirm in my seat. Heck, I don’t even know them. There’s no way I’m ready to introduce his parents to my own.
    “Okay, I get it. Take a month. Get to know them before we all meet, all right?”
    “Sounds good.”
    She bends over, readjusting the mums I’d planted so they look right. I bite my tongue as she messes with my work. It’s hard not to be insulted when I’m helping her, but really, it’s her exhibit. This is not her over-correcting me, or picking me apart to shape perfection. No, it’s business. I’ll survive the sting.
    “So, have you thought about basketball?”
    I nod, surprised that the question doesn’t bother me. “I’m thinking about it.”
    “When are tryouts?”
    “Next week.”
    “Well, whatever you decide, I support you. Just make this decision based off of you, no one else.” She nods to the lined-up plants and empty pots. “Okay, let’s get these done. I’m hoping to snag a shower before I have to leave.”
    I thrust my hands back in the dirt to plant while Mom arranges some sort of straw hay garland, but it’s basketball that’s bouncing around in my head. What would playing mean for me this year? I’d have to deal with Coach T, that horrible man who knowingly let the seniors keep bullying me as long as we won. I’d be putting myself out there to scouts and the media again. They didn’t ignore my first season, and they definitely wouldn’t ignore my return. The pressure would be high.
    But, in the evening when I shoot hoops, I have this sense of freedom and invincibility; there’s no other feeling like it in my life.
    Then there’s the Justin factor. Being on the basketball team would mean less time with him. Practices after school, games in the evenings, tournaments on the weekends. It’d basically demolish our time together, which would totally suck.
    My stomach nags at me. It’s not like that time with Justin will be there anyway. He’s captain of the boys’ varsity team. He’ll be at practice and games just as often as me. If I don’t play, at least I’d be around when he’s available.
    But that reasoning makes me nauseous. I pour the last scoop of soil into the last teal pot. No. I can’t base my choice on that. If I chose not to play for that reason, I’d only be gaining an extra hour with Justin a week, sneaking it in before his practice. Saying no to basketball would be a sacrifice that defines me through him. Waiting on him. My heart deflates with the thought. Justin’s a part of me. It scares me how much my heart is entwined with his. But I can’t be that girl waiting all the time. Especially when Justin isn’t waiting for me. It’s not like he mentioned quitting ball so we could go on more dates or anything