I snap my laptop closed just as the boy with the whistle around his neck blows it. A few minutes early, I might add. Though a few minutes wouldn't be enough time to change the score from where it stands at a limp 14-11 in North-sides favor.

Win or lose I have to admit that it's impressive. We scored at least eleven more points than I could have ever anticipated. I grab the heavy wired router and jam it into my bag pack as the players on court start to disperse. All around me, kids from North-side are celebrating. Snapchatting and Instagramming this exact moment so that our defeat is immortalized in the social media hall of fame. For the next few days, I won't be able to get through my timeline without a reminder and neither will anyone else.

I hop off the bleachers to join Darnell who's taking a few generous swigs of water.

When I'm close enough I jab my elbow into his side while he's mid-sip to get his attention.

He splutters, spilling water over his jersey and I laugh.

"Hey, Mr. Three pointer," I say.

When he recovers, he gives me a look that's torn between flattered and annoyed. "I know I scored a three-pointer at the literal half court. But you don't have to treat me any differently. Deep down I'm still the same guy."

By same, does he mean dorky, arrogant, and adorable?

"Right," I say skeptically. "The same guy?"

"Yeah. And I'll always remember the little people, okay?"

"Excuse me?" I ask in my best mock-offended tone. I have half a mind to remind him that it was my play that put him in position to score in the first place. But I'm choosing to be peaceful this week and unfortunately, that means choosing modesty too. Plus I've always liked the arrogant streak in him. What's the point of dating an athlete if you don't get all the perks? "Who are these little people you speak of?"

He shrugs, "You. You do know that you're 5'3 right?"

He's the second person to remind me of that fact today. And here comes the first. Before I can come up with a scathing remark to put Darnell in his place, Marco rolls over to us.

I didn't expect him to start gloating this soon. I steel my shoulders and brace myself for a tirade.

"Good game," he says when we're within an earshot.

Only because you won, I want to say. But in the interest of peace, I plaster a smile on my face that screams Good Sportsmanship.

"Better than the last one," Darnell says dropping his water bottle.

Marco nods, "You have a great arm." He mimes throwing a long shot.

"Yeah, but your defense though," he replies. "Super tight."

Am I just supposed to stand here while they fangirl over each other? Not that I'm jealous or anything.

Finally, Marco clears his throat and looks down at me: "Oh and here."

I stare at the small black object he's holding in the palm of his hand and it takes me a few seconds to register what it is.

"Is this..."

"Yup, I thought about it and I mean we've already embarrassed you twice. I think three would be too much."

It must show on my face that my patience for Marco and this entire conversation has worn thin. Because before I snap at him and give the term school rivalry a whole new meaning, Darnell places a calming hand on my arm and says:

"Just take it."

"Fine, okay," I say peaceably and take the slim flash drive out of his hand. "And you'll delete the original?"

"When I find the time."

How reassuring? What I don't tell him is that even if he did find the time, there would be nothing on his main hard drive to delete. And if he wanted to go behind our backs and post the extra copy he had on the cloud, he'd find it compressed beyond recognition. Talk about covering all my bases.

"Thank you," Darnell says for the both of us.

Marco shrugs and says, "Later losers." Before walking away from us and back to his friends.

"I told you he'd give it to us."

"Oh, so you're just going to pretend that this was all part of the plan?" He asks.

"Well yeah, it totally was," I elbow him a second time for a good measure. "Never doubt me again, okay?"

"Never again." He agrees.

We catch up with Sam and Micah in the car park, standing by Darnell's car. Before either of them can say anything I call, "shotgun."

As I walk past Micah, I hand him the flash. In a triumphant, I was right and you were wrong kind of way.

"Wait," Sam says. "Does this mean we're not getting suspended?"

"Depends on whether we plan on doing anything stupid between now and midterm break," Darnell says starting the car.

"No," Micah says firmly. For once, I'm inclined to agree.

*****

Darnell drives Micah and Sam home first as they live a block away from each other. He saves me for last since I'm the only one who lives out of town. It's only a few minutes past four which means I can't show up at home just yet without raising a few questions with my dad. Instead, we kill time by parking in his driveway.

"Are you okay with coming inside?"

"Yeah. Sure." What is up with me and double positives today?

We walk up the path that leads to the front door. The home is less intimidating now with him guiding me to it than it was when I walked in with Sam and Micah.

I pause as he presses the security code and the door clicks open. The hall is empty when we pass the threshold. A part of me is glad Rosa isn't here to grill me with her scrutinizing gaze. But another more sensible part of me would have loved some adult supervision right about now.

The rest of the house is quiet apart from the steady hum of a fish tank.

I'm acutely aware of the fact that I've never been to a boy's room alone. I mean I've been to Darnell's room before but that was with his friends around to act as buffers. Absorbing the tension. In that situation, the social pressure was all the way off me. All the other times we'd been alone together were at school or in his car. Now the context is different. His room is uncharted territory, the house is empty and it's just us two.

He must feel the same way because the moment we walk into his room, he walks to the center and stands on the carpet. Hands hanging by his side awkwardly. For a while, neither one of us speaks.

Someone say something, I think, please.

Then finally, "I'm gonna shower. Can you wait for me and I'll take you home right after?"

I nod, grateful that he's broken the tense spell that sat around us. Even if it means he has to leave the room to do it. When he closes the bathroom door behind him, I drop my shoulders and allow myself to relax.

"I'm such a dork," I whisper as I smack my palm onto my forehead. "Why can't I be cool about these things?"

I step onto the carpet and take a look at the room around me. I'm aware that this would be the perfect time to snoop. After all, we've already established that teenage boys love to keep their worst secrets lying around in their bedrooms. But as much as I'd love to go through the notebook lying open on his desk or shuffle through his collection of paperbacks and scan over the family photo on his mirror. I won't. With anyone else, I might have. But this is Darnell. J. Washington we're talking about here. The nicest, kindest person I've ever met. And repaying his kindness with trespassing and invasion of privacy seems, even to me, a bit much.

With a heavy sigh, I drop myself onto the edge of the bed.

It's as I do this that I realize how tired I am. It's only Monday but I'm already spent.

In the bathroom, the shower starts. I wonder what it's like to not have to share a bathroom with your sibling. Whenever it's my turn to shower I have to navigate dangerously wet floors, my brother's weird science projects, and unflushed toilets. I think about all that to distract my mind. Anything to not have to think about my pseudo boyfriend standing under the hot water in the next room. Because people don't exactly shower clothed.

*****

Something nudges at my shoulder. I staunchly ignore it, turning to my left. But the nudging is persistent and I'm forced to open my eyes.

"Oh my God," I say jerking upright. And more than a little horrified. "Did I fall asleep?"

Darnell nods, amused.

"I'm so sorry," I say rubbing furiously at my eyes. How did I get so comfortable on someone else's bed that I fell asleep? That's a first for me.

"Don't be. It's a really soft bed."

He stands up and reaches for his bottle of water on the nightstand. The boy really likes staying hydrated.

"They warned us about this type of thing in church," I say with a yawn as I watch him take a sip.

"Hmm?" He mumbles.

"Yeah," I continue. "Bad things happen if you spend too much time on a boy's bed. I just wasn't expecting--"

He must not have anticipated the direction of my statement. He's so shocked, he chokes on his water. And because I'm sitting right in front of him, his now-airborne mouthful of water lands on me, my dress, shoulder, and my face. It's enough to shake the remaining sleep out of me.

He bursts into laughter immediately after, swiping at his mouth up until he surveys the damage.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry." He says. "Let me get you a towel."

"Okay," I respond, sullen and horrified again for an entirely different reason. How did I go from recovering from a comatose-style nap to having an impromptu bath? If it had been anyone else, I would have been disgusted but because it's Darnell, I'm merely annoyed.

He grabs a towel from the set of drawers on the other side of his room and walks over to pat me down gently.

The towel is just as soft as his bed is. From beneath the heavy downing, I say with all the confidence I've never had, "I heard that spitting was a kink for some people. I didn't think you'd be into that sort of thing. Not that I'm judging."

Given the scandalized sound he makes from the back of his throat, it's the right thing to say.

"Oh come on," he says pulling the towel off my head. "I said I was sorry."

"You were such a good kid in high school," I continue, ignoring his complaints. "What went wrong?"

"I'll smother you," he threatens. But by then it's my turn to laugh at him. My annoyance switches to amusement quicker than I would have guessed.

"I mean it," he says holding the heavy downing fabric like it's a weapon. "I'll do it."

I raise my hands in surrender and cover my laugh. When he's sufficiently disarmed I carefully place both hands on his shoulders and move my mouth to meet his.

For a split second, he stiffens before smiling against me.

If the seven-year old versions of us could see us now, they'd be disgusted. Younger me would shake her head in disappointment and offer me a cootie shot. On that note, it would be a good idea to google how to administer one of those, just in case. Seven-year-old Darnell would probably profusely apologize for seeing too much and cover his eyes. Some things never change.

I can smell his body wash around us. It's tropical and fruity.

Darnell wraps his arm around my waist and shoves me closer. In moments like this, with my pulse climbing and chest breathless, I struggle to connect any two logical thoughts. My mind goes straight to that blank place reserved for final exams and pop quizzes. But I don't move away. I'm too busy trying to engrave this feeling on my brain.

That's probably why I don't notice the door snap open.

When I do, Aaliyah is already a few steps into the room. It's almost funny how fast Darnell and I separate. Like two repelling magnets. Suddenly, he's standing five feet away from me and I'm on the far side of the bed, leaning against the bedpost. Taking the phrase make room for Jesus to the next level. I'm desperately pressing the Act Cool button in my brain, as though I don't know full well that it's broken and has been for a while now.

She smirks and raises a well-shaped brow, "Let me guess. I'm interrupting something?"

"Would it kill you to knock?"

She drops the eyebrow, "You're my little brother. It would definitely kill me."

Little being the operative word. Darnell is at least a foot taller. But you can just tell who holds the upper hand in this situation. As an older sister, myself I can relate.

"I should be so lucky," Darnell says with a grin. The initial nervousness gone.

"Hey, Hazel."

"Hi." Unfortunately, I can't say the same for my own nervousness.

"How was your math paper?"

"Good. I got an A."

"Awesome," she walks over to the bookshelf and grabs a novel then she says, "Oh, and Dad's home. He wants to meet your friend."