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He led her away from the basketball court to a patch of trees. It was hardly a good time for this, with the game about to start, but Jack wanted to remind himself what she meant to him. As they walked, he considered how fondling her felt easier than reaching out to hold her hand. He convinced himself he was avoiding that because of his ashy palms. But Becca grabbed his hand. She made no comment on his skin and laughed about something Jack did. Jack wasn't sure what she was laughing about because he was so caught up in how her sundress twirled. Her olive skin seemed to shimmer. She careened ahead. She guided him behind a thin tree—no real shield from the eyes of his teammates. He psyched himself up through this embarrassment with the mantra, let them watch, as if he was Donald fucking Draper; and he kissed her. And her lips were so thick and he watched her shut her eyes and grin. He maneuvered up her shirt, hoping she would let him sneak under her bra. She stopped him but not ...