by E. M. Moore
Like I didn’t know I have to be careful around that asshole.
“First up, Alec versus Matt. First to five.” Before they jog away, Ryan grabs Matt. “Be careful. Our boy needs to be able to play tomorrow.”
Matt nods. I have a suspicion it’s not Matt that needs to be told anything. Lake cracks his knuckles and then bends over for a leg stretch.
I’m not scared to go one-on-one with Lake. I’m used to it. Sometimes I win, sometimes he does, but he always plays dirty, even during friendly competitions like this.
Alec peels his shirt off and walks to the three-point line, his jeans hung low on his hips. I can’t help but stare at the little indentations on his back or the nice hip muscles that curve down, the same ones I touched yesterday. His pecs, too. God, he’s got basically everything. Completely drool worthy. Like I said, it’s not that I’ve never seen these guys without shirts on before, but I haven’t seen Alec without one since he made me O. It does wicked things to my insides.
Sloan walks by me while I stretch. His hand curves over my hip, his fingers grazing my ass. “If you’re a good girl and win the one-on-one, I’ll up the ante.” He gives me one squeeze and then sits down on the bench next to Ryan.
My skin burns through my jeans where he just touched. Ryan stares straight ahead, almost as if he’s trying to avoid my gaze. It doesn’t matter. I need to concentrate on what’s going to be happening here shortly.
Alec and Matt’s game starts, and from the very beginning, Matt doesn’t have a shot. He’s good. Everything is there. Offense, defense, but he’s got a problem with conditioning. It’s worse than I thought. I almost feel bad for him. In a way, it’s almost not fair because Alec is at the height of conditioning right now since he’s at the end of another baseball season, but still, Matt knew what was coming. Tryouts are two weeks away. This shit isn’t going to fly. When Alec makes the fifth shot, the final score is five to two. I can’t say for sure, but I’m pretty sure Alec was also playing it safe. He does have the first playoff game tomorrow. He has to be worried about injury. The baseball coach would kick his ass if he got injured and knew it was because he was screwing around with basketball.
Alec and Matt give each other knuckles. “Good game,” Alec tells him.
Matt only grunts. He knows he did a poor showing.
I watch Alec sit in the front row and take several huge gulps of water. The very ends of his dark hair drip with sweat. I’m begging him to look up at me, so I can tell him ‘Good game’, but he doesn’t budge. He just stares straight ahead.
Ryan calls out, “Hayes and Shawn next.”
When I look over, the Ballers are all huddled now, sans Hayes. Most likely talking about what they saw or didn’t see in Matt. When they’re done, Alec stands up fully and puts on his shirt. He catches eyes with me, and I immediately turn away. So much for telling him good game, but the moment I saw his eyes, I’m reminded of how close we got yesterday. I can understand friendship and sharing a bond since you were little, but sharing that kind of intimate stuff? I guess I hoped I was different. I could see them talking about the girls who hang all over them. Hell, I heard them the first day here on this very same court. Maybe Alec thinks of me the same way… If he does, nothing like that is ever happening again.
The next game starts. Hayes is really good. Shawn is, too. Their game is much closer, but Shawn wins five to three. When Ryan announces the score, I’m a little shocked. The game seemed closer than the score implies. They matched up well even though Hayes can play with the best of the centers. He needs to work on his outside shooting though, in case he ever finds himself with the ball during crunch time.
I’m up before Ryan even announces I’m next. I do a couple tuck jumps to stretch out and then walk forward, slapping hands with Hayes and Shawn. When I tell Hayes good game, he actually looks at me. I still can’t read his expression for the life of me, but at least he’s noticing my presence.
After they talk over that game, Ryan says that Lake and I are up. Lake comes strolling out onto the court with the ball in his hands. He hands it to me, one of those self-serving smirks on his face. “Girls first.” Never mind that all the Recruits got the ball first, he has to throw it out there that I’m a girl. Right away, I’m pissed. It’s what Lake likes to do. He likes to get in his opponent’s head even though he doesn’t have to. He’s a good enough player on his own, but it’s just his thing. I guess that’s what makes him a pure asshole on and off the court. He just likes to fuck with people.
But I duke him out of his jeans and make the first layup. So, there’s that.
He checks the ball to me harder for his turn. My jeans are limiting my range of motion. I almost wish I’d asked to change clothes, but no one else did, so I didn’t even think about it. My bra, too, just isn’t cutting it for sports. The girls are flopping all over the place. Not for the first time, I’ve cursed my breasts as an athlete. They’re just cumbersome sometimes.
I slap at the ball and get it away from Lake. We both lunge for the recovery, but Lake pushes me in order to grab it first, then he does a spin move and shoots, scoring. I seethe a little at the contact. It’s nothing I didn’t expect from him, but I’m pretty sure the Ballers would call one of the Recruits out for doing it.
The next shot, I drop back for a long-range jumper, but hit just off the mark so that the ball rolls around the rim and then out. I take in a deep breath. It’s still one to one, but I wanted to keep up on him. Lake’s like a shark when he senses fear or doubt.
During Lake’s turn, he keeps working me back until we’re inside the foul line. He dips his shoulder and hits me good in the chest. I stumble back, allowing him the space he needs to make the shot. When he grabs the rebound and throws it to me, he’s smiling.
“Friendly game,” Alec calls out.
Lake turns to him with a glare I’ve never seen one of them use on the other. When I walk past him to take my place at the front of the key, he whispers, “Everyone always goes soft on you. First, Daddy, now Alec. You’re not fucking your Daddy, too, are you?”
“Fuck you.”
“Dale,” Ryan snaps. “Friendly game.”
Lake just snickers. It doesn’t matter. The only way to make him pay is by winning the game. This time, I do the same thing as last time except I sink the shot. Nothing but net. Shawn and Matt clap. “Get it, Dale,” one of them says. Maybe it’s just because they’d like one of us to win, but I hope it’s because they also think Lake is a gigantic fucking asshole.
Lake make his next two shots, as do I. It’s four to four. Lake’s got the ball. I admit, he completely dukes me out, but when he pulls up for the shot, he misses. He swears, loudly. The curse echoing around the huge, empty space.
“Come on, Lake,” Ryan says. The rest of the Ballers clap for him and shout more encouragement.
I’m too busy thinking I can win this game. All I have to do is make the next shot.
I dribble the ball, trying to fake Lake out, but he’s staring me down, looking at any slight muscle movement that gives me away. Finally, I just run straight toward him, but then dribble the ball between my legs, so it ends up in the other hand. I get past him. My heart soars. I take one step…two. Then, a hand catches my shirt. I’m falling forward, resistance on my shirt while a rip sound tears through my ears. Before I even know what happens, I land hard, my hands catching my fall at the last moment.
I immediately get to my feet and turn right toward Lake. “What the fuck, O’Brien? You can’t understand English?”
He laughs. “You just can’t hack it with us, Dale. Tell the truth.”
I’m in his face now. He’s smirking down at me, and there’s nothing I want more than to punch this fucker in the face, but that’ll solve nothing. In fact, it might just ruin everything I’ve tried to accomplish for myself. “The truth will come out,” I say. “Don’t worry.”
His eyes narrow. Alec calls his name and then he passes the ball to Lake. I look down for the first time and see that my shir
t is ruined. It’s completely torn at the seem all the way to my bra. It’s just hanging open.
I check the ball to Lake. It’s still four-four even though I should’ve had the winning point if Lake didn’t play so fucking dirty. Were the Ballers even watching that? Or do they lie to themselves like Lake?
Lake pulls up for a jumper first thing. I jump a split second later but end up getting my fingers on the ball. The shot won’t make it to the hoop, but Lake lands and immediately takes off for the rebound. I’m behind him. I can only hope that he misses the layup. I run after him and the ball, but it’s too late. He’s got hands on the ball, and he’s drifting up. The ball bounces off the backboard and right into the hoop.
When Lake walks past me, he hits me with his shoulder. I turn from the force and find Alec on his feet. His fists are clenched, and he’s staring at me. Shawn and Matt, too, are on their feet, but their faces are sinking.
“Good game,” Ryan says as we walk off.
“Bullshit,” I mutter.
The area gets so quiet you could hear someone dropping their popcorn from the top row. “You got something to say, Dale?” Ryan asks.
“Nothing that no one else here doesn’t already know.”
“Watch your mouth, Recruit.”
“She’s too busy sucking Alec’s dick with it,” Lake says.
Alec turns toward Lake. The stare they give one another is a little scary. Scarier when I think that their anger has never been directed at one another. Ryan moves in front of them, blocking our view. “Get your asses something to eat,” Ryan says, directing his instructions to us. “And fix your fucking shirt, Dale.”
I look down. Yep, still ripped. Not like I did it. I turn away and go for my bag. I pull it on my shoulder, using it to keep my shirt closed until I can get to my car for an extra that’s probably in my gym bag in the trunk.
Shawn and Matt try to talk to me, but I ignore them. I’m pissed about Lake, but I’m also pissed at myself. I know how he is, yet I still let him get to me. All the way to my car, I seethe. Then I pop the trunk and look through my bag, pulling out a shirt.
I slam the trunk, only to find Sloan leaning against the car, smiling in my direction. “So, I think you should know something, Daddy’s girl.”
I close my eyes. What now?
23
Somehow, I find myself in Sloan’s Jeep headed to a small sandwich shop in town. When he realized I never got anything to eat, he told me I was skipping. I told him I didn’t want to, which only made him laugh. “People like us don’t need school.”
I wasn’t sure if I should be grateful to be included in that sentiment or not.
Sloan looks over at me from the driver’s side. “Aren’t you going to change?”
“Aren’t you going to tell me what you meant by I should know something?”
He smiles. “Of course. After you have lunch with me.” He raises his eyebrows. “But you probably don’t want to walk into the sandwich place with a ripped top. In fact, I’d prefer it if you didn’t. You never know who’s lurking and suddenly, the headlines will be Sloan Ivy, son of Senator Ivy, Assaults Girl, Rips Shirt or something asinine like that. I look at him like he’s crazy, but he doesn’t find any of this humorous. “You think it sounds nuts, but it’s not. You should know. I’m sure your dad deals with that shit, too.”
He did, but since he’s been out of the NBA for a little while, it’s died down. And somehow, Mom and Dad have been able to keep their separation out of the public eye for now because they haven’t officially filed for it yet. As soon as they do, it’s probably going to be plastered everywhere.
I look over at him and then sigh, resigned. It’s not like these guys haven’t seen me in a sports bra before. I whip my shirt off right in the car and then arrange the one I found in my bag before I pull it over my head.
“Damn, Dale. No wonder Al—”
“Would you stop fucking saying that?” I snap.
I push my arms through the holes and then pull the bottom of my shirt down, hiding everything once again. It just so happens it’s a Broadwell Academy shirt though.
“I think I hit a nerve.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I’d like to think that people don’t just want me because of who I am or how I look.” Sloan goes silent beside me. I throw his words back in face. “You should know.”
“I think that’s more of a girl sentiment. I don’t care about using my name to get girls.” He shrugs unapologetically.
“Until you find the one and can’t trust if she even likes you for you.”
Sloan chuckles lightly. “I’ll think about that when I’m worried about finding the one,” he mimics, making fun of me. “But that won’t be for a while.”
“To each their own.”
Sloan pulls into the sandwich shop, and we get out. He walks in nonchalantly like he’s not worried he’ll get caught skipping. It’s no wonder. There’s a huge RHS Warriors sign in the front window. I follow him in, and he takes a booth in the corner. An elderly lady comes over and gives us menus.
“Get whatever you want,” Sloan says. “It’s on me.”
“I can pay for my own meal,” I tell him even though he owes me one for that stunt they pulled before the baseball game.
“Obviously, but I figured you might be like me. Just because I can afford to pay for everyone’s meal doesn’t mean I want to all the time.”
His words bite through me. He’s right. When I was at Broadwell, everyone had at least some money. Hello, it was private school. But, the ones with the most were always throwing it around and everyone else expected them to, too. “Thank you,” I tell him, accepting his gesture.
There’s a shift in the air around us, but I don’t comment on it. I just settle on what I want for lunch and then wait for the waitress to come back over again. We order, and then Sloan sits back. “I thought you played a good game today.”
“Would have won,” I said. “If your boy didn’t play dirty.”
He smirks. “We don’t know that.”
“We would know if he didn’t play dirty.”
Sloan just stares at me. When the lady comes back with our drinks, he takes a huge gulp, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. My phone vibrates so I pull it out. It’s a text from Alec. Where are you?
Getting some lunch downtown.
“Who’s that?” Sloan asks, trying to peer over my screen.
I angle it back. “None of your business.”
He smirks. “Tell Alec I say hi.”
I don’t respond. Alec texts, Are you with Sloan? There’s something I have to tell you.
Yes, and only because he basically kidnapped me.
Fuck.
“It’s so rude to be out to eat with one guy and texting another, don’t you think?” He reaches over and yanks the phone out of my hand before I can respond.
“Hey!”
“Chill. I’m not going to look at it. I’m just going to set it right here. You can get it back after we eat.”
I sit back with a huff. “Like you actually want to eat lunch with me. You’re just trying to piss Alec off for some reason.”
Sloan leans forward, his expression changed. “That’s where you’re wrong. Don’t pretend you know what’s going on here because you have no idea.”
He slips out of his booth and slides into mine. I move over to accommodate him or I’m pretty sure he would have just sat on me. My heart careens in my chest. It’s been like this since I first met them. I can hardly be in their presence without panting. Though, it’s a lot easier to be in Lake’s presence. He’s pretty, but he’s a straight up asshole with no redeeming qualities.
Sloan, though? In a way, I feel bad for him. We have similar ‘growing up in the public eye’ upbringings. Though, he always had the Ballers, and I never had a group like that. “What was it like growing up with all those friends?”
Sloan turns to look at me. “All those friends? If you mean just the five of us, then it was great.” He
leans back, his arm moving around my shoulder. It feels nice there. Comfortable.
“Come on, Ivy,” I say. “Tell me something real.”
His face lights up. “You want to hear something real?”
I nod.
He moves in closer. “Let’s play a game. A truth for a truth?”
The back of my neck heats. “So, I ask a question, you answer it honestly? You ask a question and I have to answer it honestly? Sure. I have nothing to hide.”
Sloan takes his time thinking of the answer to my first question. On the other side of the table, I can hear my phone vibrating. “I think…” he says. “I wouldn’t have wanted to grow up any other way. Those guys are like my brothers. When shit happens to one of us, it happens to all of us. On the other hand, when shit happens to one of us, it happens to all of us.”
“I don’t understand.”
He shakes his head. “It’s my turn.”
I steel myself. I have no idea what he’s going to ask. He looks into my eyes for a long time, then he finally says, “Do you like Alec?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation.
“Just yes?”
“What do you want me to say? Do you think I would let someone touch me like that if I didn’t like them?”
He looks at his hand around my shoulders. My body heats.
The waitress brings out our food, so we stop for a second. When she’s gone, Sloan says, “I’m convinced some girls do.”
“Well, I don’t.”
“Fine. Your turn.” He takes his hand away from my shoulder and bites into one of his chicken strips, waiting for me to ask something.
“Your Mom and Dad…they don’t come to a lot of things.”
His gaze flicks over to mine. “Is there a question in there somewhere?”
“Are they still together? Happily together?” I quickly tack on.
My stomach roils with the anticipation of his answer. This year, my parents aren’t going to be going to anything together unless they need to keep up appearances. And who knows if that will last. Or if one of them gets a boyfriend or girlfriend, they definitely won’t pretend anymore. Of course, when they officially announce it, all bets are off, too.
