by Ariel Tachna
The lights went down, and the spotlights came up, streaking across the stands as the fans roared, audible even over the pounding music. From his vantage point, Linc could see the pinpoints of a thousand cell phone flashlights waving in time with the beat.
The big screens in the center of the arena played highlights from the season featuring tonight’s starting players. He could almost predict which shots were showing by the ebb and flow of the cheering, even without looking up. The noise built and built until the announcer came on.
“And now, welcome your University of Kentucky Wildcats!”
The crowd went crazy. The announcer called out Jayden’s position and stats. Pete jostled Linc with a grin as their teammate ran out onto the court amid shouts from the crowd and pyrotechnics overhead. One by one, the announcer called the rest of the starting lineup until only Pete and Linc remained. They bumped fists when the announcer called Pete’s name. He ran out, leaving Linc waiting. “At center, six-eight senior from Hodgenville, Kentucky, number thirteen, Lincoln Joyner!”
Linc jogged onto the court between the two rows of his teammates to cheers and more pyrotechnics, nearly blinded by the spotlight as he gave his teammates high fives. The announcer welcomed Coach Cal and then…. “And the sixth man for the Wildcats, the eRUPPtion Zone.” The spotlights panned over the student section. Linc scanned the crowd, looking for the DLP contingent. When he found them, he gave them a jaunty two-fingered salute. He could pick out some of the guys he’d met the night before, all of them jostling Kit, who had Linc’s number on both cheeks. For that, Linc would play the best he’d ever played.
“You okay?” Pete shouted over the music as they took their positions.
“Never better,” Linc replied as he swaggered to center court for the tip-off. With the fans behind him and Kit watching, how could he be anything but awesome?
KIT cheered as loud as he could when Linc beat the Vols center to the ball at tip-off, still tingling all over from Linc’s salute. Linc had always been one to wave to the fans at the start of a game, but that wasn’t just a wave. That was a deliberate acknowledgment of a specific group of fans—of him. Nobody outside the fraternity would realize it, maybe, but his frat brothers certainly did. They hadn’t stopped elbowing him since. He’d have bruised ribs if they weren’t careful.
Linc landed a beautiful three-point shot, nothing but net, and the crowd went wild, Kit most of all. He’d always loved basketball and watching Linc play, but knowing he’d be meeting Linc at Grey Goose after the game added an extra layer to the excitement.
The Vols got the ball and pressed down court, Linc and his teammates harrying them with every pass. Then Jayden Mays, the point guard, stole the ball, and the Cats were off again. Mays had dunked the ball before the Vols could do more than blink. Kit cheered the second basket of the game along with everyone else. If his shouts weren’t quite as loud as they’d been for Linc, that was between him and his conscience.
Logan elbowed him again.
Okay, maybe between him and his frat brothers, but he could live with that.
AT halftime, the Wildcats led 48 to 26. As they retired to the locker room, Linc was walking on air.
“You got over your distraction,” Pete said as they waited for Coach to join them. “You’re on fire tonight.”
Linc grinned and bumped his shoulder against Pete’s. “I told you I’d be fine once we got back out on the court.”
“Uh-huh. If I didn’t know better, I’d say someone got laid last night.”
“How do you know I didn’t?” Linc retorted. He hadn’t, but Pete didn’t know that.
“Because I’ve never known you to hook up with someone for a night, even when you got an offer, and you don’t sleep with someone on a first date. Whatever happened last night to put you in such a good mood today, it wasn’t sex.”
“No, it wasn’t, but it was a damn fine first kiss.”
“Who was it? Anyone I know?”
Linc debated what to tell him, but before he could decide, Coach came in for their halftime pep talk and strategy session.
AT halftime Kit handed Logan some cash for a drink from the concession stand and stayed in the eRUPPtion Zone to save their spot.
“Your guy’s on fire tonight,” Ethan, another of Kit’s frat brothers, said. “He always plays well, but he’s wiping the floor with the Vols tonight.”
“He’s not my ‘guy,’ as you put it,” Kit replied, ignoring the surge of warmth at the possessive. It wouldn’t do to get cocky. It might work for Uncle Thane, but Kit was a different man. “But you’re right. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him play this well.”
“And you’ve been watching, huh?” Ethan teased.
“Like y’all haven’t.” Kit had been a fan even before Linc came out, unlike some of his frat brothers, and in four seasons and over a hundred games, Linc had never scored as many points or had as many steals in the first half.
THE teams took their starting positions. Linc stood at center court, eyes focused on the ball. He hadn’t let himself search for Kit in the crowd when they ran back out of the locker room, but he had no doubt Kit was there, cheering with the rest of the crowd. The Vols had the possession arrow to start the second half, but if Linc had his way, they wouldn’t have the ball for long. The whistle blew and the Vols center passed the ball to the point guard, who drove down the court toward the basket. Linc relaxed into the action and moved in sync with them to defend the basket. Pete got there first, stole the ball, and lobbed it toward Linc. He caught it with a deep breath and took off, heart pounding as he evaded the Vols defense, leaped toward the basket, and slammed the ball through the net. The Cats fans were on their feet, shouting praise and encouragement, but the sound faded as Linc’s focus tuned it out. Nothing existed now but the ball and the net and the next play. He dropped back again as the Vols set up their new attempt on UK’s basket.
He traced the game on autopilot, fell back on years of practice as he pushed away nerves and overreaction to adrenaline while his brain analyzed and anticipated his opponents’ movements, projected the trajectory of the ball, figured the force and angle required to make the basket from the three-point line. The team flowed around him like clockwork, each cog in a well-oiled machine—smooth and effortless. With each basket, they proved their cohesiveness and rolled single-mindedly over the Vols. Layups, dunks, jump shots, hook shots, bank shots, all came without conscious thought, even the abrupt starts and stops to account for free throws. Time warped and stretched in that fluid way it did when he lost himself in the game.
The final buzzer startled him out of the basketball trance as the team mobbed him in center court. He slapped hands and backs and butts along with his teammates, riding the high of another win. When the furor died down a little—it wouldn’t go away entirely for the rest of the night—he bent double, elbows resting on his knees as he took deep breaths to level off his pulse, but nothing could stave off the natural rush now roaring through him. The victory over Tennessee clinched the regular season and guaranteed their spot as a top seed in the SEC tournament and virtually assured them of a place in the NCAA bracket. Linc wasn’t worried, given how well they played tonight, but he also wouldn’t take anything for granted until the championship was in the bag. He tried to find Kit in the crowd again, but the mass of milling bodies was too big of a blur to pick out individual faces. He had Kit’s number. He’d text him when Coach released them so they could meet up.
“You’re grinning.”
“We just won. Of course I’m grinning.” Linc rolled his eyes at Pete.
“That’s not the ‘we won’ grin. That’s something else.”
“Oh for crying out loud,” Linc exclaimed. “You aren’t going to let this go, are you?”
“Nope.” Pete popped the p with an obnoxious grin.
“Fine. I’ll tell you after Coach finishes with us.”
They all trooped into the locker room for the usual celebratory speech. Then, with a reminder to be smart
about their aftergame drinks, Coach dismissed them until Monday morning.
“Okay, give.”
“I had a date last night, with Kit.”
“Your physics tutor?” Pete asked.
“Yeah. He invited me to a party at his fraternity. We had a good time.”
“A really good time, I’d say,” Pete teased.
“It’s too soon for that, but the guys were cool about me being there. I was Kit’s date, not a basketball star. It was nice.” It had been more than nice, but Linc didn’t have the words to explain that to Pete without sounding like a complete sap.
“When do I get to meet him?” Pete asked.
“I’m meeting him for drinks in a bit. You could come with me for a few minutes. To meet him. But you can’t stay long.” Linc would probably regret inviting Pete, but Kit would have to meet the team eventually, and Pete was Linc’s best friend.
“Just long enough to say hi,” Pete promised.
I’ll believe that when I see it. “Then get a shower so we can go. I’m not waiting for you if you take too long. I have a hot date.”
Pete snorted. “Yeah, yeah, rub it in.”
Linc laughed and headed to the showers. Pete could make all the disbelieving noises he wanted. Linc knew a good thing when it fell into his lap.
KIT nursed his beer at the Grey Goose as he waited for Linc to arrive. He’d debated hanging around at Rupp until Linc was ready to go, but Linc had insisted he go on to the restaurant, saying he didn’t know how long it would take for Coach Cal to release them and then for them to get past the press and the fans. It had taken almost forty-five minutes for Linc to text that he was on his way and would be there in ten minutes or so.
“Still waiting?” the waiter asked.
“Yes, he just texted that he’s on his way. He should be here in a few minutes.” Kit didn’t glance at his watch. It hadn’t been ten minutes, and even if it had, Linc would arrive when he arrived.
“Okay. Let me know if you need anything.”
A few moments later, Linc walked in. Kit drank in the sight of him. He wore a light gray wool coat that hugged his wide shoulders and narrow hips and emphasized his dark skin, with a scarf that looked handmade around his neck. He caught sight of Kit and started toward him. Only then did Kit notice Linc wasn’t alone. He suppressed a frown. This was supposed to be a date. Or had he misunderstood?
“Hi, Kit.” Linc leaned down as he reached the table and dropped a quick kiss on Kit’s lips.
Good. He hadn’t misunderstood completely, although that didn’t explain—
“Kit, this is Pete Jennings. He isn’t going to stay, but I wanted to introduce you.”
Kit rose and offered his hand. “Kit Parkins, nice to meet you. Great game tonight, both of you.” His life was officially awesome. He was dating Linc, and now he got to meet another basketball star.
“Nice to meet you too, and thanks,” Pete said. “I’d love to say Linc has told me all about you, but he’s playing his cards close to his chest.”
Kit laughed. “Why don’t you join us for a bit? I’m an open book.”
Pete pulled a chair out and sat even as Linc protested. “No, he’s not staying.”
“Just for a few minutes,” Pete said, looking like he intended to settle in. That wasn’t quite what Kit had intended, but he wanted Linc’s friends to like him too, so he didn’t complain.
“I seen you in the stands,” Linc told Kit.
“I wasn’t sure if you saw me in particular, but we knew that salute was for us,” Kit said. “Everyone was excited.”
“The press will be all over the footage, trying to figure out what he meant by that little stunt,” Pete warned. “Expect to get some calls at the frat house. They probably won’t be able to pick you out of the crowd, but they’ll see his number and the frat letters and will figure that’s who he was saluting.”
“I’ll tell Logan,” Kit said. “I don’t think it will be a problem, but at least he’ll have some warning.”
“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” Linc asked Pete. “Like maybe Tolly-Ho with the rest of the team?”
“Not really,” Pete said before he yelped. “On the other hand, they’ll probably send out a search party if neither of us show up. I can tell them you won’t be there tonight. Nice meeting you, Kit.”
“You too,” Kit said. When Pete was out of earshot, Kit turned to Linc. “Did you kick him under the table?”
Linc leaned back in the chair with a defiant look on his face. “He wasn’t going to leave otherwise, and I had to share you last night. I want a night that’s just us.”
Kit ducked his chin and rubbed at the back of his neck, overwhelmed and flattered at the thought of being the center of Linc’s attention that way. “I don’t have anywhere to be until two o’clock tomorrow afternoon.”
“WHAT’S going on tomorrow?” Kit had a life of his own, obviously, but Linc wanted to know everything about him that Kit was willing to share.
“Sunday dinner with my family,” Kit said. “It’s been a tradition since my brother and I moved out.”
Before Linc could reply, the waiter came to the table. “Can I get you anything to drink?”
“Whatever he’s having,” Linc replied. Beer was beer as far as he was concerned, and after tonight’s game, he deserved one to celebrate. The waiter nodded and left them alone. “You mentioned you lived with your brother. I think it’s great you get to see your family so often. I miss mine. They’re all still out in the Knobs. I could go home for the weekend when we don’t have games, but there always seems to be something else that has to get done, so I end up staying.”
“You’re from Hodgenville, right? I haven’t ever been there, unless Mom took us when I was too young to remember.”
“You’re not missing much. The only thing out there worth seeing is the Lincoln Birthplace, which is kinda cool, although the cabin isn’t the original.”
“Is that why your parents named you Lincoln?” Kit asked.
“Yeah, my ancestors were slaves on a farm near where Lincoln was born, and after the Emancipation Proclamation, my however-many-times-great-grandpa declared the oldest boy in the family should always be named Lincoln. The first boy born each generation since has been Lincoln Joyner. This time around, it was me.”
“Is your dad a Lincoln too?” Kit asked.
“No, my uncle, but he never married, so I was the first of my generation even though my dad wasn’t,” Linc said. “It’s one of those traditions you have to be part of the family to really understand.”
Kit laughed. “Yeah, probably. I wouldn’t know. It’s just my uncles, my brother, and me.”
“I thought you mentioned a cousin.”
“Yeah, Ephah, but he’s not really my cousin. He’s the nephew of my uncle’s best friend’s husband. How’s that for convoluted?”
Linc frowned as he shook his head. “And I thought family in the country was crazy. That’s what my daddy would call shirttail kin.”
“Yeah, we don’t have a lot of family so we sort of expanded dinner to include close friends too—Uncle Thane’s best friend, Derek, Derek’s husband, Owen, Owen’s nephew, Ephah, Derek’s brothers, his sister-in-laws, and his niece. It’s a full house if everyone can make it.”
“It sounds like dinner at my house growing up. I’m the oldest of six kids, but it was never just us. There were always cousins around, or else we were over at the cousins’ houses.”
“You’re lucky. It was always Mom, Phillip, and me, plus Uncle Thane on holidays.”
“No cousins at all?” Linc couldn’t imagine a life without his sprawling, boisterous family.
“No. Dad was an only child, and Uncle Thane didn’t have kids. Well, unless you count Phillip and me.”
Linc didn’t know what to say to that, and silence fell awkwardly between them. He cast around for another topic of conversation, maybe a more cheerful one, but nothing sprang to mind. Fortunately the waiter returned with his beer.
> “Excuse me, Mr. Joyner,” he said after he’d put the beer on the table. “Would it be all right if I took a picture with you?”
Linc didn’t sigh. He pasted on his toothy publicity smile, ignoring how fake it felt, now more than ever, and said, “Of course.”
“I can take it for you,” Kit offered, not looking as perturbed as Linc felt. That was probably good, since right now, Linc resented anything that took their attention off each other, however unrealistic that was in Lexington. Maybe if they were somewhere else—Louisville or Cincinnati or even farther away—he might get away without being recognized, but not here. And if he got drafted, it would only get worse. No, however much Linc wanted a night out without anyone interrupting, better that Kit understand now what being with Linc would mean rather than down the road when they’d gotten closer.
“Would you?” the waiter asked. “That would be great.”
He leaned in next to Linc, and Kit snapped a couple of pictures on the guy’s cell phone. If they were lucky, that would be the end of it. If not, everyone else in the restaurant would take that as permission to come asking for pictures or autographs.
When the waiter left, Linc turned back to Kit. “I’m sorry. Tonight was supposed to be just us, but unless I’m in a private room, there’s always a chance of this happening.”
“I can’t really blame them,” Kit replied. “A week ago, I would have been tempted too. Not sure I would have worked up the nerve to actually come over, but I certainly understand the impulse.”
“Yeah, well, I blame them. If it’s a publicity event, that’s one thing, but I’m trying to have a date here.”
Kit reached across the table to squeeze Linc’s hand. “No trying involved. Your date is happy to be here with you at all. And in their defense, you did just win a game, and you played as well or better than I’ve ever seen you play. People have an extra reason for wanting to talk to you tonight.”
