Maple Hill was loud with summer — the sound of cicadas, the slap of sneakers on asphalt, the hollow thud of a basketball bouncing again and again.

Noah was in his element.
He dribbled once, twice, pivoted, and sent the ball flying in a perfect arc. It sailed cleanly through the hoop with a satisfying swish. 

From his spot under the bleachers, Eli groaned. “You’re insufferable.”

Noah turned, grinning, sweat glinting along his temple. “You mean talented.”

“I mean loud.” Eli didn’t look up from his sketchbook. He was hunched over it, pencil tapping against the page as if it were keeping time with Noah’s movements.

“You love it,” Noah said, retrieving the ball. “Admit it — the court’s quieter when I’m not here, and that bothers you.”

“The court’s peaceful when you’re not here,” Eli corrected. “I can actually hear myself think.” Eli and Noah had come to the basketball court just blocks away from their homes to practice . Noah- his sport and Eli- sketching Noah playing.

Noah dribbled closer, sneakers squeaking, until he was casting a shadow over Eli’s page. “What’s that supposed to be? Let me see.”

Eli flipped the sketchbook shut with one smooth motion. “Personal.”

“Personal? Dude, I’ve seen you draw road signs and coffee cups.”

“And you still don’t get to see this one.” Eli’s tone was calm, but there was amusement tucked inside it — the kind Noah recognized.

“Fine,” Noah said, spinning the ball on his finger like a performer. “You know, if you drew me actually playing instead of hiding in the corner, you might get famous”, Noah teased. He just wanted to get under Eli's skin. Annoyed and hot Eli was his favorite. 

Eli raised an eyebrow. “Right. The world desperately needs more art of a sweaty teenager chasing an orange ball.”

“Hey, this sweaty teenager happens to be the pride of Maple Hill High.”

“Pride,” Eli echoed dryly. “Sure. You did miss three free throws last week.”

“That was an off day,” Noah protested, feigning offense. “You wouldn’t know, Mr. Art Club.”

“Sketch Club,” Eli corrected.

“Same thing.”

“Not even remotely.”

Their voices filled the small park — light, overlapping, careless. The late sun fell in gold sheets over the cracked pavement, catching in the dust that rose from each bounce. Around them, the world drifted by: a group of kids sharing a popsicle near the fence, a dog chasing after a frisbee, the faint sound of wind in the pines.

Eli shaded something quickly, his pencil making soft, confident marks. Noah pretended not to notice how often Eli’s eyes flicked up — brief glances, fast enough to seem accidental.

After a while, Noah flopped onto the bench beside him, stretching out like he owned the space. “You done yet?”

“Almost.”

“Is it flattering?”

Eli smirked without looking up. “Moderately.”

“That’s not enough.”

“Then stop moving.”

“I am stopped.”

Eli gave him a side glance. “Your knee’s bouncing.”

“It’s called energy.”

“It’s called annoying.”

Noah laughed — loud, unrestrained, echoing through the quiet park. Eli rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his grin.

They sat there in easy silence for a while — or as silent as Noah ever allowed. The sound of traffic drifted faintly from the main road; a sprinkler hissed somewhere nearby. Maple Hill’s evenings always felt suspended — as if time stretched just for them.

When Eli finally closed his sketchbook, Noah peeked over immediately. “Let me see.”

“Fine,” Eli said with exaggerated patience, holding it up. On the page, Noah was mid-jump, captured midair — lines confident, motion alive. Even the curve of his mouth was there, a half-smile frozen in graphite.Noah whistled low. “Okay… that’s actually kinda awesome.” Noah didn't know if he actually looked this good when he played. He half wondered if it was Eli who made him look like that.

“‘Kinda’?”

“Fine. Totally awesome.” He grinned, nudging Eli’s shoulder. “You make me look cool.”

“You try to look cool.”

“Semantics.”

The ball rolled away, bumping gently against the chain-link fence. Neither of them moved to get it. The air was soft now, edges cooling with dusk.

A few blocks away, the smell of barbecue drifted from someone’s backyard. A porch light flicked on across the street.

Eli stretched, tucking his pencil in his bag. “You heading home soon?”

“Mom’s making pizza,” Noah said. “You’re invited, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Eli echoed, smiling. “Wouldn’t miss your family’s weird salad pizza.”

“It’s not weird. It’s experimental.”

“It’s lettuce.”

“It’s innovation.”

Eli shook his head, laughing. “You argue like you’re auditioning for a commercial.”

“Maybe I am. Maybe I’m gonna be famous one day, and you’ll sell sketches of me for millions.”

“Ambitious.”

“Hey, gotta dream big.”

Eli packed his things, still smiling. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” Noah said, falling into step beside him as they left the court.

The sun was dipping low now, throwing long shadows ahead of them. They walked home past the quiet houses — pale clapboard siding, porches with wind chimes, the smell of cut grass hanging in the air. Neighbors waved, used to seeing the two of them together.

Noah threw the ball up and dashed into the house shouting, "I am gonna take a really quick shower." Eli quickly caught the ball he threw groaning audibly. "Couldn't you hand me the ball normally?" he shouted back even though there wasn't annoyance in his voice. He was used to Noah's clumsiness by now. He sometimes even enjoyed tolerating it.

"It's Eliiiiiiiii !!!!" a voice rang from inside the house. Eli grinned hard knowing it was Sophie, Noah's younger sister. Before he could even keep his things away, she ran towards him and lept into his arms. He caught her just in time smiling, "you could've fell sweetheart".

"I knew you would catch me", she said giddily looking at Eli. 

"Hmmm, we need to do something about the huge crushh she has on you. I am afraid she might ask me to marry her off to you someday," John, Noah's father laughed looking at them. 

"I might have to be her first heartbreak then", Eli laughed as he entered the house with Sophie and John laughing.