Game On: A High School Bully Romance (The Ballers of Rockport High Book 1)

by E. M. Moore

  She makes a face. “I came to watch you. Here.” She holds her hand out and opens it. A blue hair tie is in the center of her palm. When I look up, she says, “It’s a lucky hair tie. I don’t think you need it, but I heard my brother say that you’re probably nervous this morning before he left for school.”

  I smile, pluck the hair tie from her palm and wrap it around the one I already have in my hair. “Thank you,” I tell her. I have to bite my lip to keep any emotion from showing through. Bending down, I give her a hug. “I never got the chance to thank you for the sandwich either. Thanks for looking out for me.”

  Her mother comes up behind her and smiles. “Sorry.”

  I shake my head. “It’s nothing.” I give Roberta a smile and then put my hand out for his mother. “I’m Tessa Dale.”

  Mrs. Christopoulos shakes it. “My son has told me a lot about you.” She squeezes her daughter’s shoulders. “It’s time to let Miss Dale warm up, okay? We can watch her from the stands. Where we’re supposed to be.”

  “Sure, Mom,” Roberta says.

  They walk off, and when I turn back toward center court, Alec is staring at me. He’s half smiling, half hopeful. The good news is, Roberta’s gift has actually made me a little less nervous. Seeing other people here rooting for me helps. After that, I try not to look in the stands at all. I don’t want to see my father. I’m not ready to face him, and I know if I see him, I won’t be able to stop my mind from going to what he did to us. I need to keep my focus.

  “Alright,” Coach Bradley says in his booming voice. “Line up.” We do as he says. When we’re in place, he tells Ryan to give us a short warm-up.

  We do some jumping jacks, lunges, arm swings, and more stretching until I’m nice and limber. After that, Coach tells us to run a few lines, but then we’re into basketball drills that test our footwork, speedwork, and ball handling. I’ve sat through this tryout before. I know it’s not going to be too tough, but it’s also amazing how you can pinpoint the weak ones even from a simple workout.

  I have to admit that Matt is doing better than when we were in the Baller trials. In some small way, I hope I helped him with his conditioning. He’s not even the slowest on the team. I give him a nod during our passing drills. When we take a water break before the last shootaround, I run to the side of the court and grab my water bottle before chugging it down. Ryan’s voice is distinct above all others when he says, “What the fuck?”

  I turn to see all the Ballers huddled around one another, blocking Ryan from the crowd. Their bodies are tense, and they’re eyes are blazing as they gaze into the stands. I don’t even think twice before I follow their line of sight. My heart leaps into my throat. Chase Fisher is sitting in the front row. He smiles and lifts his hand to wave at me. I smile back at him awkwardly. I never responded to his text and the last time I saw him, the Ballers pretty much told him to get fucked, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t like him. I just don’t like him like I like the Ballers. Well, most of them anyway.

  I walk back out onto the court. Though he’s trying to be quieter, I can still hear him. “I thought we told him to stay away,” Ryan seethes.

  I’m trying my best to ignore them, but I still don’t understand why he cares about Chase or anything to do with me for that matter. I turn my head to look toward Chase again to make sure he’s the reason Ryan’s getting upset when my gaze catches on my dad. I freeze, my fingers halfway through my ponytail. He’s staring at me, watching me from the sidelines like he’s done so many times before. However, he’s sitting next to Ryan’s mom, which makes me spitting mad. He couldn’t even watch tryouts by himself? I shake my head and turn away.

  Coach blows his whistle. “Shootaround!”

  Fire sings through my veins. I line up with the rest of them for the round robin shooting and make every basket I take. My shots swish through the hoop, or I run up with the layup, each shot is placed with perfection. My fingers tingle like a live wire. The line moves fast, but not fast enough for me. I’m feeling it so much, I want to show everyone what I can do right now. When Coach blows the whistle at the end of practice, it’s like the signal for me to start breathing again. I look around, shocked that the shootaround went by so quickly. “Damn, Dale,” one of the players says. “Do they call you the Real Deal too?”

  I smile at him. I have to admit, that felt good. Sweat drips down my face. I use the bottom of the practice jersey to wipe it off. Before I can drop it again, I catch Ryan’s eyes. He’s staring at me like he’s cocked and loaded, Coach in his ear about something. When they break, Coach turns and finds me. He strides over. “Just wanted to say nice job today, Tessa. I’m sad I’ve never seen you play before today. You’re good.”

  The nerves ease in my stomach. “Thanks, Coach.”

  He nods. “See you here tomorrow.”

  The guys all jog toward the boys’ locker room, and I go the other way. I need a shower, and then maybe I’ll soak in the hot tub when I get home even though I know I should use an ice bath. I just can’t stand them. When I make my way over to the far side of the court, I see Chase stand. I wave to him and walk over to greet him. I know I’m a complete mess, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Wow, Tessa.”

  “Yeah?” Even though I’m already over-heated from practice, I can feel my face flame at his compliment.

  He looks away and lifts on his heels. “I can tell you love the game.”

  I rub my cheeks. “Thanks. And, um, I’m sorry about what happened at homecoming.” It seems like ages ago, but I guess it’s only been a couple weeks.

  “And not responding to my texts?” he asks, his eyebrows rising.

  I try to hide my face and then look up at him.

  “I get it,” he says. He shrugs and jams his hands into his pockets. “Just, if you ever want to talk or go out, you have my number.”

  “Tess,” my dad calls behind me.

  I look and see him walking toward me, alone.

  “Isn’t that your dad?” Chase asks. His face flushes and I see a little bit of that fan thing happening. I need to get out of here because I can’t sit through someone gushing about my dad right now.

  “I’ll see you around, Chase.” I walk away, not bothering to stop when my dad calls my name again.

  Roberta waves at me like crazy from the stands, so I wave back. Dawn jumps up and down at the very end. I wave at her, too, then call out, “I’d hug you, but I’m gross.”

  “You did so good!”

  I laugh because she doesn’t even know that for sure. She’s just guessing. Or David told her I did good, I’m not sure which. “I’ll text you!”

  She waves at me again, and I scoot into the girls’ locker room before my dad can catch up to me. Maybe I’m being petty. I honestly don’t care. He had weeks and weeks to talk to me, but he didn’t. Now he can talk to me on my terms.

  I stay under the spray of the shower for a long time. I think I’m half-hoping everyone will be gone when I get out. No Dad. No Chase. No Ballers.

  I hear a noise behind me and turn. I jump when I find Ryan Linc standing in the entrance to the shower stall. “Ryan!” My voice echoes through the room as I cover myself up. My left arm comes over my breasts and the other splays over the joining of my thighs.

  He walks past the shower curtain that’s way too small to cover the whole entrance and stands in front of me. I take him in. He’s all wild-eyed, hair a mess, but there’s more. There’s blood dripping from his knuckles.

  Forgetting how naked I am right now, I walk forward and grab his hand. His freaking shooting hand. “What did you do?”

  “This is it, Tessa. This is why I tried to keep my distance from you.” His lips shake as he speaks.

  “What are you talking about?” I pull him closer, so the spray hits his knuckles. They’re split wide open like he punched something or someone. My stomach turns. Ryan... My Ryan is hurt.

  “He just had to show up,” he says, shaking his head.

  I blink at him. “What?” He just
stares at me. To his credit, his gaze hasn’t dropped once. He’s too busy staring at me like he’s trying to burn a truth into my brain.

  “I wasn’t pretending to like you at camp, Tessa. I did like you. I do like you. It was easier to keep you away. It was easier for us all to pretend. I could kill Alec for giving in.”

  I drop his hand and just stare at him. The water from the shower soaks one half of his body. Drops drip from the corner of his lips as he talks.

  “Is that what you wanted to hear? Does that make everything better? To me, it just makes everything worse.” He pulls his hand up, showing me his cracked knuckles. I hope to God he hasn’t sprained, or worse, broken anything. Then, his jaw hardens. “Don’t let Chase fucking Fisher come here again. We won’t be as nice next time. You’re ours, remember? He can’t touch you or have you or even talk to you. I won’t let it happen.”

  He turns and leaves, his wet sneakers squeaking against the tile as he exits the bathroom. I back up until my back hits the handle for the cold and hot water, mind whirring about Ryan’s confession.

  He likes me?

  30

  Tryouts are intense. The next few days fly by because of it. I barely pay attention in class. I hear Coach’s words over and over in my head about how to get better. As soon as I get home from practice, I’m out on the court working on whatever we did that day ten-fold. My mom keeps me fed and watered like I’m a puppy. I wake up early to run still, but only because I’m used to it. I don’t talk to any of the Ballers. It was almost like a subconscious decision between all of us that we not talk. I don’t want the distraction and neither do they. When Ryan, Alec, Sloan, and Hayes come to school the next day after the first tryout with bandages around their knuckles, I don’t even give them a second glance. Not my problem. Laser focus, full steam ahead. I’m getting a spot on the team and it’s not because at least three out of the five Ballers like me.

  Lake can go suck a dick.

  He’s ballsy with me in practices just like he was during the Baller trials. He posts too hard, he throws elbows. The only difference this time is that Coach will call him out on it. So, instead of stopping, he’s gotten sneaky. I don’t understand how he has a knack for knowing when Coach is looking and when he’s not, but nine times out of ten when he gives me a cheap shot, no one notices. Or if they do, no one’s saying shit. Lake O’Brien is a certifiable asshole.

  I’m confident I’m doing the best I can, though. That’s all I can ask of myself. I’m glad I’m not choking or letting the pressure—or any of the Ballers—get to me. Ignoring them, though difficult, beats letting them get into my head. After tryouts are over and I make the team, that’s when things can return back to a semi-normal with them. Just maybe not with Ryan.

  It was clear that though they’ve claimed me, Ryan doesn’t want me around. Even if he likes me, he doesn’t want me around, which I don’t get in the least.

  Tryouts are affecting them, too. Shawn and Matt don’t sit near them at lunch anymore. None of the guys have a girl with them at lunch either. Well, except Lake, but does that really shock anyone? Maybe if he spent as much time working on his game rather than flirting, I wouldn’t be rivaling him for shooting guard. At least, I think I am. It’s hard to tell, but I’m damn good. Of course, my opinion of him is swayed because he’s such a jackass.

  On the day Coach is set to announce the team, I’m a nervous wreck. It’s Friday, the school is buzzing with the news. Just like any other RHS basketball activity, the public is allowed back in. I’ve even had media calling my house to talk to me about tryouts, which is absolutely insane. My mother’s been telling them I’ll be happy to talk to them after I make the team. This morning, Hayes shows back up at my car and walks me to all my classes again in his silent way. We get quite a few looks from people, but honestly, I’m used to it by now. The only time he doesn’t sit with me is at lunch.

  “They keep looking at you,” Dawn says. She’s staring over at them again, so I tell her to stop.

  “It is kind of weird,” David agrees. I’ve pretty much come to the conclusion that he’s a permanent fixture in our little group now.

  “Right?” Dawn says. She’s sipping her milk, but her eyes are peeled to their table. “What do you think they’re saying?”

  David snickers.

  “What?” Dawn asks, finally turning her attention toward us.

  “Nothing,” David says.

  “No, what?”

  David looks from me to her. “It’s not obvious?” When we just stare at him blankly, he says, “At least half of them…” He narrows his gaze and looks over again. “…more than half, are looking at her like they want to bend her over this lunch table right now.”

  Dawn gasps, then sputters on her milk, spraying some of it on the table between us. She blinks at me. “Half the Ballers want to fuck you?”

  “More than half,” David corrects.

  I let my head drop back. “Why are we talking about this?”

  “You’re not interested?”

  “Not right now,” I tell her. “I have so many things to worry about. Shit, I almost put my shoes on the wrong feet this morning. My mom almost didn’t trust me to drive myself to school.”

  She gives me a slight frown. This morning I told her my dad’s been calling. He keeps telling my mom he wants to talk to me, and she’s telling him she’s not stopping me. She’s not. I know I’ll see him tonight, so maybe, maybe, I’ll talk to him then. That’s a big maybe. “Right, of course,” she says. “Lots to worry about. Including how you’re going to handle that many cocks.”

  My mouth drops. “Dawn!” She bursts out laughing, David right alongside her. I follow suit. “What the hell?”

  “I couldn’t resist,” she says, leaning on David for support. “It literally just fell out of my mouth. I couldn’t stop it!”

  David just shakes his head at her while he squeezes her shoulders. I run a hand through my hair, hoping no one else heard that. “I can’t think about cocks right now,” I whisper to the both of them.

  “Whoa,” a voice says. Christie sits down next to me, her hair high in a ponytail. “Came in at the wrong time in that conversation.”

  “Hey, Christie,” I say, giving Dawn a look to keep quiet.

  “Hey,” she says. “I just wanted to tell you good luck tonight. I hope you make it.” She sends a scathing glance over my shoulder. “Only partly because I want you to wipe the floor with the assholes who took shots at my brother.”

  Dawn sucks in a breath. “What?” I never told her about Ryan coming to visit me in the shower and what happened after that. She assumed they were all wearing bandages for some basketball reason, and I never told her any different. “They hurt Chase?”

  David shifts in his seat. Obviously, I wasn’t the only one who knew. I stare back at her. “Christie, I—”

  “Don’t sweat it, Dale. I know it’s not your fault. I meant what I said, kick their fucking asses. Hurt them where it matters most, their pride.” With that, she stands to leave.

  Dawn’s jaw is unhinged. She gawks at Christie as she leaves, then she turns toward me. “You bitch.”

  “I wasn’t sure,” I tell her.

  She blinks. “Are you serious? That’s what you’re going with?”

  “Come on, Dawn,” David says, patting her leg.

  “Oh, I’m not really pissed, David. You really have to learn my social cues. I’m just saying, I had no idea. They beat Chase up for you?”

  I shrug, which only makes David laugh. “All the cocks, remember?” he says when I try to deny it. “I’m a dude. I can spot it.”

  My next class may as well have been taught in Latin for all I understood or cared to listen. Once in gym, I walk toward the locker room to change, but I spot Coach talking to Miss Lyons. “Dale,” he says, calling me over.

  My stomach drops, hoping this isn’t a goodbye talk. I jog up to them, my heart in my throat. “Hi, Coach. What’s up?”

  He scratches the side of his face.
“Remember the drug test you guys took after practice yesterday?”

  “Um, yeah.”

  He pulls out another plastic container. “I’m going to need you to give me another sample. Something happened to yours.”

  “Oh,” I say, staring at the plastic container. “Yeah, sure.”

  My face heats out of embarrassment. I take the container and head toward the locker room. Miss Lyons follows me all the way there and to the corner where the stalls are. Before I step inside, she says, “Bag?”

  I hand it to her. This is the same deal as yesterday, though I didn’t have someone right there to watch me. Miss Lyons doesn’t stare at me while I fill the sample, but she looks off to the side. I don’t care. I have nothing to hide. When I’m done, I set it on the toilet back behind me and finish up, quickly pulling my pants back up. Miss Lyons pulls on a plastic glove and tells me they’re going to run the sample while I’m in gym since they ran everyone else’s last night. Then, she winks at me. “Good luck, Dale. Would it be weird if I tell you I’m living vicariously through you?”

  I just stand there, not knowing what to say. We are still in the bathroom stall after all. “Um, thanks.”

  She laughs. “Though basketball wasn’t my sport. Field hockey.”

  That makes sense. I know she coaches Christie’s team.

  When Miss Lyons leaves with a tub full of my pee, Dawn gives me a crazy look. I shrug. “I guess something happened to my sample yesterday.” Gym goes by in a heartbeat. It seems like we were just in the locker room changing into our gym clothes when we’re right back in it changing out of our gym clothes. When I’m done, I sit on the bench right by my gym locker. The gym locker room is different from the Timothy Dale Court locker rooms. The others are much nicer, but they hold the same things inside. It reminds me of what I’m about to face.

  “Listen,” Dawn says. She sits across from me. “I’m not good at the sentimental stuff, but I hope you make it. If you do, I’ll celebrate with you. If you don’t, we’ll get drunk, you can cry it out, and then we’ll never have to talk about it again.” She shrugs her shoulders.