At the Buzzer: A High School Bully Romance (The Ballers of Rockport High Book 3)

by E. M. Moore

  The door to Dad and Leslie’s room opens. I create a few more inches of space between Ryan and me on the couch and look up as Dad waltzes in. He throws a menu down on the coffee table in front of us. “I’m ordering room service. Let me know what you guys want.”

  We spend the next hour talking and waiting for the food to come. Ryan and I field text messages from the guys while we eat, and by the time we’re done, it’s so late we all go to bed for my early morning appointment.

  It feels weird to be staying in the same area as all of them. It feels extra weird to be sleeping only one wall away from Ryan and not be able to see him. After I get ready for bed, I just stare at the ceiling trying not to think about the boy out in the suite’s living room. Tomorrow’s a big day after all. I’ll get my cast off and then I can finally try to do things with my hand that I haven’t been able to do over the last several weeks.

  I feel as if I’m on the precipice of a major life event. I need this wrist to be okay. I need it now more than ever.

  I keep repeating that in my head when I hear my door open. Looking over, I find Ryan’s figure silhouetted in the dark. The door clicks behind him, and he moves forward, his approach silent. I lean on my forearms to watch him as he walks closer. There’s a wicked glint in his eye as he crawls on the bed toward me. He pulls my legs apart, and his hands inch up my skin, over my knees, across my thighs until his fingers hook over the waistband of my pajama pants.

  “What are you doing?” I whisper.

  My heart beats in my head with a steady thump. It’s so loud I can barely hear his response. “You’re going to have to be quiet.”

  He tugs on my sleep shorts, taking my panties with them until I’m exposed from the lower half down. “Ryan,” I warn. This is so not the time and place for this.

  “Shh,” he says. “I can’t sleep in the same vicinity as you and not get a taste. Just one taste, I fucking promise.” His hands slide under my ass, propping me up and offering me up to him at the same time. He nuzzles my center, his nose tickling my hairs as he breathes in deep. “One taste,” he murmurs.

  He buries himself in me, licking and sucking with a frenzy that makes my chest feel like it’s going to burst into pieces. I catch myself from crying out, and I feel his lips curl into a smile. He’s fucking enjoying this.

  “Be quiet, sweet thing.”

  “I hate you,” I breathe out.

  He chuckles. The deep sound emanating from his chest vibrates my center in a delicious way. I watch from above as he nibbles and sucks. My fingers dig into the mattress with so much force, but it’s the only thing keeping me from crying out right now. He curls his tongue around my clit. “You know you love me, Tessa Dale. Always have.”

  I moan, lifting my hips into his mouth, begging for more without using words.

  And oh does he gives me more. His tongue dives into my center before grazing past my clit again. My nerve endings fire. He can tell I’m so close because he stays right where he is, the tip of his tongue teasing. I lean back, then press my hands into his hair until my orgasm hits. I shudder around him.

  Oh. My. God. What can’t Ryan Linc do?

  I tremble as he pulls away. He sits back on his haunches, and I notice his cock straining against the gym shorts he’s worn to bed. He’s not wearing a shirt either. He’s smirking as he watches me come down, but I have different plans for him. I move forward, crawling toward him like he just did to me. His eyes change. They go from amusement to something much more sinister. I push him down on his back, and slowly lower his gym shorts, casting them aside. His cock stands there proudly, straining. I dip my head. Ryan must know where my mind is now because he says, “Holy fuck.”

  I don’t want him to anticipate this too much. I’ve never gone down on a guy before.

  When I tell him as much, he tells me he doesn’t fucking care. I lick the top of his head in response, taking his tiny bead of pre-cum on my tongue as I do it. It tastes salty, like I’ve heard others say. It’s not bad at all though. The hard ridges of him call to me, but when I look up, it’s the eagerness in his eyes that do me in. The pure want and uncontrollable lust I see displayed there so casually strengthens my resolve. All of that is there for me. Unreal.

  I lower my lips over him. His head drops back. “Oh fucking God.”

  “Shh,” I tease, mimicking what he told me. Now, I’m smiling. I’m smiling until he lifts his hips, and his cock moves over my lips. I moan. The move is so sensual. He does it again and again until I fist his base and move him toward my mouth on his rhythm. I didn’t expect to like this as much as I am. Maybe it’s because Ryan’s loving every fucking second of it.

  He watches my every move with hooded eyes. He grits his teeth. “That’s right. Take me. All of me. Oh fuck, Tessa.”

  I swear I’m ready for him again. My clit is throbbing.

  “Suck,” he says.

  I do as he requests, and his eyes roll toward the ceiling. “Fuck, babe. More.” He groans as he lifts his hips, and I move him inside my mouth. My tongue plays over his tip as I suck. His fingers curl into the mattress just like mine did. His breathing becomes erratic. “Decide now where you want my cum because it’s coming.”

  I move my lips away from him just for a second. “Wherever you want it.”

  His gray eyes harden into steel. He moves his hips like he’s fucking my mouth, and I’m starting to wonder who’s controlling who. I’m not sure which one of us has the upper hand because I’m loving this every bit as much as he seems to be.

  His movements quicken until his mouth opens on a soundless scream. Then, I feel it. He pulses inside me, his cum spurting into my mouth. I swallow and keep swallowing as he empties everything he has. As soon as he stops, he puts his hand on my shoulders, pushing me away before crawling over to me. He looks at me with awe as his fingers graze over my lips. I smile up at him in return, which I’m pretty sure comes off as a sex-induced haze.

  “I was not expecting that,” he says. “Fuck me that was amazing.”

  “Mmm,” I moan in confirmation.

  He lies down next to me, cuddling me to him until I fall asleep. I’m not sure how long he stays, but when I wake up the next morning, he’s not there.

  My hand stretches out over the side of the bed he slept in, curling into the sheets. One day, we’ll be able to sleep the whole night with each other.

  And that’s the thought that makes me smile the morning I get my cast off.

  25

  I’m beaming by the time we walk out of the doctor’s office. Dad can’t stop squeezing my shoulder. The fancy doctor my dad’s paid a lot of money to see doesn’t see any reason why I can’t start trying to play basketball as soon as possible. He wants me to take it easy, of course, and he also wants me to start physical therapy back home with a place he’s suggested, but other than that, I’m free.

  I’m fucking free.

  I feel like a weight has lifted off not only me, but off my heart as well. I didn’t realize how much I was carrying around because of not having full use of my hand and because every day I saw the evidence of Lake trying to take something very important from me. Ryan even ran his hands over my bare wrist. Right there in front of everyone, his fingertips touched me reverently. It made my heart skip a beat. I’m not sure my dad or Leslie even noticed. They were too busy talking with the doctor and making sure we heard all of his instructions. Plus, Ryan wasn’t the only one who touched my wrist like that. Pretty much everyone but Leslie did, and that’s fine by me.

  I feel like a new person.

  While Dad is driving us to a restaurant to get something to eat, Ryan and I take a selfie in the backseat. Our mouths are wide open, and I’m holding my now non-cast arm up for my Ballers to see. They’re in class right now, but they’ll see the picture whenever they check their phone next.

  Afterward, we put our phones away. My natural reaction is to grab Ryan’s hand and hold it, and for a second, I do, but then he squeezes me and moves it away. I’m now wondering why
we just haven’t told my parents that we like each other. I was so consumed with my wrist that I wasn’t thinking about anything else, but other than the fact that they probably won’t leave us alone in the house, why can’t we tell them? We’re obviously serious about one another.

  My phone buzzes. I pick it up, thinking it’s a response from one of the guys about the picture we sent, but it’s not. It’s from a number I don’t recognize, but it’s clear who it’s from when I open it and see the image attached to the text.

  It’s a screenshot of a status update. A profile picture of Nikki, the girl I met at the restaurant when Sloan and I were on a date, is in the uppermost corner. The update reads, “In a relationship with Sloan Ivy.”

  I see red.

  I stare at the image again and again, making sure I’m seeing everything exactly right.

  Then, another text comes through. Guess who’s not so special anymore?

  My phone is ripped from my hands. I look over to find Ryan staring down at the screen, his fingers tensing and then shaking as he reads the words displayed there. Thoughts pass between us wordlessly when we meet each other’s gazes.

  “It can’t be right,” I say automatically.

  “I’ll take care of it,” he says.

  He hands me my phone back. I take it from him and download the screenshot that was sent to me onto my phone and then send a private text to Sloan with just the picture. I’m not worried he’s cheating on me. But, I am worried this is the reason why he looked so tired when we left yesterday. I already know his parents don’t like me. Their old money friends won’t approve of my sporty self, so maybe this is all them.

  While all this has been going on, I haven’t been paying attention to where we’re going. When we stop suddenly, I look up to find that we’re in a nice neighborhood that mirrors the one we live in back home except these houses just have a slightly different architectural style to them. They’re straight lines and all windows. Very modern. I sit up on the seat. “Where are we, Dad?”

  My question makes Ryan look up now. His brows pull together in this cute way.

  Dad turns in his seat. “I have a surprise for you both.”

  Dad gets out of the car. Beyond Ryan, I see the front door of the house open and none other than freaking Jacob Lansing steps out of the house. I immediately grab for Ryan’s arm. He’s stopped moving. Jacob Lansing is only the number one scorer in the NBA right now. My dad jogs up to him, and they give each other a bro hug all while we haven’t even moved from our seats let alone the car.

  Leslie turns from the passenger seat. “Are you guys going to get out or…?”

  Ryan swings the door open. He waits for me to scoot across the seat, his hand outstretched to help me out. Then, he closes the door behind me and we’re walking toward Lansing who’s dressed down the same as us. Plain black basketball shorts and an athletic shirt sporting the trademark swoosh that sponsors him. Through my dad, I’ve met quite a few amazing players, but it never ceases to make my hands shake, especially now with Lansing. He’s not one of the seasoned players. He doesn’t have a few championship rings under his belt. He’s only been in the league for five years, but he came out swinging from the very beginning.

  Dad beckons us forward and we move in line, Leslie on the other side of Ryan. “My daughter,” Dad says first, motioning toward me.

  I hold my hand out to Jacob. “Tessa,” I tell him with a smile.

  “Nice to meet you.”

  When he shakes my hand, the first thing I notice is that his hand is freaking huge. It reminds me of Hayes and for a split second, I’m a little forlorn. I’d love it if all of my Ballers could be here right now. Who wouldn’t want to meet Jacob freaking Lansing?

  “My girlfriend,” Dad says, waving in Leslie’s direction. “And her son, Ryan. Quintessa and Ryan play for my old high school team back home.”

  Jacob shakes both Leslie and Ryan’s hands. Ryan still hasn’t uttered a word. His mouth is slightly open, and he looks so adorable in a dorky way.

  Holy shit. Ryan looks like a complete and utter dork right now. How is this possible? His confident exterior has completely fallen away. I bite my lip to keep from smiling.

  “I hear we need some cheering up,” Jacob says. His gaze travels down my arm. “Got the cast off, that’s great. What did Doc say?”

  My dad runs through what the doctor just finished telling us. After he’s through, and I learn that Jacob is the one who recommended that doctor to my dad, Jacob ushers us through a door in the garage. We walk past three sports cars, all of them cherry red, and then out the back where a basketball half court looms in front of us.

  I break into a grin. I’ve been itching to play ever since the damn cast came off, but I didn’t think I’d get a chance until we got home.

  Jacob turns to his left. “Honey, the Dale’s are here.”

  His wife, apparently, who is supermodel gorgeous, steps off their back patio. Heat’s wafting from a grill, distorting the perfectly sunny day. The glass patio table is set for six people.

  Jacob turns back to us. “We have enough time to get a few baskets in before lunch is ready.”

  I turn toward my dad as Leslie leaves to introduce herself to Jacob’s wife. I can’t believe he planned this. He catches me looking and grins like he knows exactly what he did. “Thanks, Dad,” I tell him.

  “Don’t thank me,” Dad says. “Thank Mr. Top Scorer in the NBA over here.”

  My cheeks heat as I turn toward Lansing. “Thank you,” I say.

  He’s still chuckling from what my dad said. “Had to when I heard what good players you both were.” He looks to my right to where Ryan’s standing next to me. “Leading scorer in your school division, I hear.”

  Ryan’s finally able to form words, and he and Jacob talk a little while I sit back and watch Ryan with a smile. My dad throws his arm over my shoulder and kisses the top of my head. “I knew you could do it, Tess.”

  I stare down at my wrist. “It’s my bones, not me, Dad.”

  “Nonsense, Pumpkin. Will is everything, and your will is strong.” He heads over to the rack that Jacob has up, much like the one we have at our house, and brings a basketball over, spinning it on his pointer finger as he walks. I used to tell my dad in his retirement that he should get a job for the Harlem Globetrotters, but he hasn’t taken me up on that yet. “Let’s see what you got.”

  Dad passes the ball to me, and I automatically catch most of the brunt of the pass with my left hand. I pass it back and forth between my two palms. I have very little pain at all anymore. I’m just scared now that I’m holding a ball again. I know what happened the last time I held a ball like this. The sickening crunch, the sharp, cruel flare of pain that almost brought me to my knees. Even worse than all that was the thought that my whole future could’ve been erased right in front of me. My goals, my dreams were all gone, taken away by one fucking asshole.

  I spin the ball between my hands and then set up for the shot. I dribble the ball once, twice, testing it. For some reason, this one shot means everything to me. It’s as if whether I make or miss this shot will dictate the whole season coming up. If I make this shot, I’ll make the team again. If I make this shot, we’ll win Championships. If I make this shot, we’ll all get into State and continue this amazing, enticing, intoxicating thing between all of us that I never want to let go of.

  If I miss this shot… Well, I’m fucked.

  I crouch down, holding the ball in my shot position, then jump. My hands move up. I feel pressure on my wrist that I don’t remember feeling before, but like usual, at the top of my jump, my wrist moves forward. More pressure. The movement actually feels odd. But as soon as the ball leaves my hands, I know it’s going in. It feels like it takes forever for the trajectory of the ball to make its way to the rim. When it does though, it hits the very back of the rim and clunks in. It’s not my prettiest shot. Not by a long shot, but that doesn’t stop my face from filling with excitement.

  “That’s my
girl,” Dad says.

  He gets the rebound, and the next thing I know, Ryan has me up in the air. He swings me around once, then sets me on my feet again. I can tell he wants to kiss me. I can tell he desperately wants to press his lips to mine, but instead, he lets his eyes do all the talking, and then steps back.

  “Alright,” Jacob says. “Nice shot you got there. Reminds me of someone else’s,” he says, shifting his gaze toward my father. He’s not the first person to make that comment, and I’ve always felt a surge of pride when someone mentions that.

  Dad bounces the ball to Ryan. He sets up a little differently than I do, but the result is still the same. The ball goes in, and Jacob nods approvingly.

  “What are they feeding you two in that town you come from?”

  We all laugh, then watch as Jacob Lansing himself takes a shot. There’s something about watching an expert in their particular field do anything. It’s humbling. It’s awe-inspiring. He moves with fluidity, with grace, and speed and power all at the same time. There’s no doubt in my mind that when the ball leaves Jacob Lansing’s fingertips, that it’s going into the basket.

  Dad’s waiting at the bottom of the hoop for the rebound then we start a game of Pig. We’re about halfway through when Jacob’s wife calls him to check on the grill. Jacob bows out, but we keep playing until he calls us to his patio table for lunch.

  Once seated, Leslie asks how Jacob and his wife met, so Jacob launches into the story. They were high school sweethearts. I can’t help but look at Ryan when he reveals that fact. She slips her hand over his and then they squeeze each other. Fame and success can do a lot to people but looking at the two of them from across this expensive array of dishes, it doesn’t seem like it’s done much to them.

  After all of us finish eating, Jacob’s wife, Kiera, asks Ryan and I what our goals are. At the same time, we both say, “State.”