Okay

.14.

Launching the ball as far as I can, Blue sprints off, a solid mass of muscle.

"He looks good." I comment.

He should be around six or seven, getting up there for a dog.

"Yeah, I try to keep him as active as possible." Holt says as Blue returns dropping the ball at his feet before he sits and waits.

I grab the ball before Holt does, winding up and sending it flying again.

And once again Blue goes soaring after it.

"So you seeing anyone?" I ask.

Holt laughs quietly through his nose. "Nah."

"Come on man, you're famous. Hooking up with fans?" I tease.

He shakes his head. Confessing something I already knew. "I don't like being famous...or whatever."

Blue's back but I don't pick up the ball and neither does Holt, instead his hand reaches down for the dog and Blue does exactly what he always does. He comforts Holt.

"Well it's bound to happen when you play ball like you do." I laugh. "I mean you play for the Bulls."

At the mention of his team, Holt pulls the hat he has on his head a little lower.

"How is the Windy City treating you anyway?"

He nods his head, stammering slightly as he answers. "I-its okay. I miss home though."

Some kids catch my attention behind Holt. They're pointing in our direction, murmuring to each other as they stand and stare. They've clearly recognized Holt and Blue, not surprisingly. Blue's become a bit of a mascot. And his unique face is easy to spot especially when coupled with a short ball player that doesn't talk.

"You've got some fans." I murmur to Holt, nodding to the kids behind him. "Want me to tell them to go away."

He sucks in a breath, his eyes meeting mine full of uncertainty and I feel like a dick for not being there for him more over the past few years. I've been too focused on my own stupid problems and here my best friend is struggling with real shit.

"No, it's okay." He glances behind him and that seems to be all the kids need to decide they should approach.

"Can we get a picture with you?" One of the boys ask, they look like they're in their mid teens, all gangly.

Even Holt looks large standing beside them, his body filled out. He reaches down for Blue, the dog a saint ignoring the fact that another boy is desperately trying to get his attention.

"Sure." Holt tells them.

"Here hand your phone over. I'll take it." I stretch my open palm out and a phone lands in it.

In one swift motion like they do this constantly, Holt pats his chest and Blue leaps straight into his arms. He holds the dog close to him as the kids gather around. And I count down from 3 before I hold the button for a burst of shots.

Before I even lower the phone one of the kids that hasn't yet spoken looks at Holt with admiration in his eyes and says "you're my hero."