by E. M. Moore
I don’t even know why I try, or what I was even trying to accomplish, I guess. I got no answers, just the butt end of Ryan’s terrible attitude. Again.
Jacquin kicks it back into gear once we turn down the road to camp. I follow after him, only this time, Ryan is hot on my heels. We pass the imaginary finish line at the same time. My dad’s there, clapping as we come across. He looks at both Ryan and I like he’s so pleased we performed well. My stomach squeezes at the thought that he’d be just as proud of Ryan as he is with me.
I grab a water and hide around the side of the building to get my breath under control. In the background, I can hear my dad talking to Jacquin, but that’s not everything. Ryan footsteps approach as he walks right up to me. We’re in the shadows of the building and like he’s done before, he gets right in my face, his heaving chest brushing against my own. He squishes the water bottle that’s in my hands against my ribs. “Do you remember what I said to you when you were in the shower, and you and I were alone?”
I nod. His presence throws me for a loop. He’s so close that if I breathe, I’ll breathe him in. No one else has finished yet, but they will soon. What will they see when they turn toward us? Two people who hate each other? Or two people who are great at pretending?
His gray eyes turn molten in front of me. “I thought you would understand you can only believe what I say when we’re alone. Now…and then.”
I swallow, his insinuation is clear. It’s what Hayes has been trying to tell me, too. Though the guys picked Lake, that didn’t mean they stopped liking me. “That’s not enough.”
“It’s all I’ve got.”
My jaw hardens. There’s really nothing more to say to him then.
Ryan moves away, cursing. He runs his hands through his hair. Instead of turning back around, holding me against the wall like he did at the school to try to force me to bow down to him, he just walks away. He grabs a water from the cooler, and then separates himself from everyone else as the rest of the guys finally come running back in.
Ryan Fucking Linc. Each and every time.
I drop my head against the wall of the building behind me, forcing my breaths to slow. I don’t know what amped me up more, finally having Ryan close to me again, or the full sprint at the end of that run.
16
Fuck me.
My stomach drops when my dad lays down what we’re doing today. Hayes moves close to me. He’s not even trying to be nonchalant about it. Today is position specific day. We’re not going to work general skills, we’re working skills for our position and for our position only. Meaning, it’s all me, Lake, and River.
My fingers tingle. The thought of spending the day with the O’Brien boys makes me want to hurl. At least before, there was one other impartial player there besides me and Lake. Now, there’s River. River is just Lake’s clone. They both hate me.
When Dad finishes talking, Hayes looks down at me. “This isn’t good.”
“It’s not like this is new. We knew this was going to happen.”
He looks from Lake to River, seemingly having the same exact conversation with himself that I just had. It seems worse that it’s going to be two against one. At least Jacquin is going to be our coach for the day. He knows Lake and I have an issue with one another, so hopefully he’ll be cool about it. When I look up to find the coach in question, Ryan is next to him, their heads bent together.
My dad is waiting for Hayes while the other two Centers are already next to him. “I’ll be fine,” I tell him, urging him to go off with my dad and learn Center stuff. There’s nothing he can do unless he wants his own training to suffer. But this is the exact reason why we come to this camp. Position specific skills. Working with the best of the best. I’ll just have to remember my motto for this summer: Bigger. Badder. Better.
I end up having to give Hayes a shove to get him going. Once he’s striding toward my dad, I walk up to Jacquin. When we’re all in a tight circle that’s too close for my comfort, Jacquin turns, and Lake, River, and I follow him to one of the outdoor basketball courts on the outskirts of the cabins. There’s a basketball rack already waiting for us along with a cooler of sports drinks and waters.
He turns around as soon as we get onto the court, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “First thing’s first, no bullshit in this training. You play hard, but you play fair. No cheap shots.” He stares at Lake as he says this. “No personal shit. No smack talk.” He grabs a basketball from the rack, spins, and takes a shot at the basket. He makes it. It catches the rim and follows it until it drops through the net. “We’re starting off with a game of Pig.”
I smile at this. My dad and I used to love to play Pig. We’d take the craziest shots and see who could make them. He used to beat me every single time when I was a kid, but as I got older, I got better.
“We’re going in alphabetical order. First Lake, then River, then Tessa.”
“Technically, her name’s Quintessa,” Lake says.
I shrug and look over at Jacquin. Does it matter?
“Fine,” Jacquin says. “Lake, Quintessa, then River.”
Lake and River smile at one another. Why, I’m not sure. Lake steps up and takes the shot Jacquin just made. He sinks it. Unsurprising. Lake is good. That’s why I don’t understand why he needs to use his words with me—or worse, the physical shit he pulled on me from the track that night. All he has to do is beat me on the court, and then there’s nothing I could say about him starting and not me.
I’m up next. I shake my hands out and then take Lake’s place. I dribble twice, then bring my feet together before jumping. At the height of my jump, I arc the ball through the air. I smile as it curves and sails right through the net.
We play the game for a while. River is the first to get a letter. He’s also the first to get to two letters. Jacquin is the only one of us who doesn’t have a letter yet. I can see why he was drafted straight out of high school. The guy has skills, and his competitive edge comes out to play during our playful game. Because River isn’t as good as the rest of us, Jacquin gets his choice of shots pretty much the entire time. He’s definitely controlling the whole game.
By the time the game ends, Jacquin wins. I beat Lake only because his frustration started to take over and he let the fact that I was playing well get to him. Basically, he choked, and I was able to get the better of him. River was dead last.
Ha. Punk. I should write ‘You suck’ on his forehead.
Next, Jacquin runs us through some basic Shooting Guard drills. We practice passing, then pulling up short. Overall, I like the way Jacquin instructs. It’s easy to tell that he’s dedicated his life so far to the game. He deserves everything he’s gotten. I can’t pretend I’m not jealous of him. He has what I want. Although, I do think that I, personally, would like to go to college first.
It’s not the same for everyone though. Pro players in the NBA make a lot of money. It’s not hard to see why Jacquin would want to get pulled up already. Then, of course, there’s always the threat of injury. If he decided to go to college and then got injured while there, he’d never get his chance at the professional level. There are so many factors to consider, but regardless of that, Jacquin deserves every one of them with how he plays.
In fact, I’m so enamored by his playing that at one point, I completely miss what I’m doing and run into something hard. A half growl, half cry sounds in my ear, and I turn to see Lake sprawled out on the blacktop. My shoulder burns with pain at our contact. “Shit, I’m sorry, Lake.”
I reach my hand out to help him up, but he bats it away. “Watch what the fuck you’re doing, Dale.”
His brother basically pushes me out of the way and helps him up himself. When Lake gets up, he tests the weight on his ankle, and I see him grimace.
My cheeks flame. That really was my fault. “Are you okay?” I ask. I know he’s the scum of the earth, but I hate to think that I actually hurt him, especially when I should have been paying attention and he wasn’t a
ctually doing anything directly at the moment to deserve me hurting him.
“Shut the fuck up,” Lake snaps.
Jacquin jogs over. “What did I say before we began training today? Leave it about basketball.”
“I was trying to. Tessa knocked me down.”
Jacquin’s eyes laser through him. “Do you want me to call medical?”
Lake shakes his head.
“No? Good, then everyone can shut the fuck up. Mistakes happen.”
Lake grumbles something that sounds a lot like he’s insinuating I got to Jacquin, too, with my superior oral skills—only much nastier than that.
“Like you haven’t done worse to me on purpose,” I say to Lake, my anger finally bubbling to the surface and repressing all the ‘Oops, I accidentally hit him’ nonsense. His ankle seems to be fine now. He should just drop it.
Lake turns toward me. “If you can’t take playing with the boys, by all means, leave.”
“Have a seat, O’Brien,” Jacquin says. He turns around, his face twisted in disgust.
“What?”
Jacquin spins on his heel back toward us. “I said have a fucking seat. I don’t want to hear your bullshit when it comes to Tessa or any other player you think shouldn’t be here. I want players who are going to compete on the court, not with words and jibes. I warned you at the beginning.”
“This is straight up bullshit,” Lake says, looking around like he’s searching for an ally to tell him he doesn’t have to sit this out.
“Oh, is it? My court time, my rules. Take a seat.”
Eyebrows raised, I watch as Lake just stands there, his face growing even redder by the second. When he finally realizes he’s not going to get anywhere with Jacquin, he storms off. He kicks over the cooler filled with sports drinks and doesn’t just sit on the edge of the court like Jacquin told him to, he leaves the court all together, going back toward the cabins.
River looks from Jacquin to his retreating brother. Jacquin steps up to him. “You’re welcome to stay, but I won’t have any bullshit in my practices. Your brother is wasting an opportunity for real skills because he has a grudge. How are you going to act?”
Surprisingly enough, River stays on the court and keeps his mouth shut. He even plays better without Lake here. Don’t get me wrong, I still think he’s the number one asshole in training, but when out of the clutches of his brother, he isn’t so terrible. Except for when I try to give him advice on his jump shot, he stares at me like he wants nothing more than to see me shrivel up and die. When Jacquin is out of earshot, he says, “How many points did you score last season?”
I glare right back at him. “I think if you’d compare playing time to points scored, you’ll find I did even better than your brother. But who’s counting, right? Your brother and I are on the same team.”
He shakes his head. “Not if he has anything to say about it.”
I narrow my gaze at him. I wouldn’t be surprised if Lake did try to do something to my position on the team. Find a way to kick me off, get me injured, or maybe even worse, make it so I don’t want to join the team at all. I think that’s what he tried to do this past year. He thought if I couldn’t have the guys, I’d leave. But I didn’t transfer to RHS for the Ballers, I transferred for the team. I transferred for basketball, period. Nothing more. Alec and Sloan, and feeling like I was on a team again, were just added bonuses. Even though I didn’t have those things for very long at all, they were great while they lasted.
“Tell him to bring it, Baby O’Brien.”
His nostrils flare. “You might have Hayes on your side now, but the others will be harder to get.”
“There are no sides, and if your brother was smarter, he’d realize that.”
“You challenged him directly. You transferred to Rockport, you signed up to try out for the team all knowing you both play the same position. That’s a challenge. You don’t belong there.”
From behind us, Jacquin sighs, “Oh, wonderful, it’s Dale’s boyfriend.”
I turn to find Hayes trudging up the small hill toward the outdoor courts. He’s by himself, his dirty blond hair flopping over his forehead. There’s a ring of sweat around his collar that ends just over his chest. It looks like my father’s been working the Centers hard.
My first reaction is to tell Jacquin Hayes isn’t my boyfriend, but is he? Does he want to be? He’s come to my aid, he’s told me he likes me, and he’s freaking apologized to me multiple times. Shit, I don’t know what he is right now. I don’t know what any of them are to me right now. River says the others will be harder to get to my side. Do I even want to do that?
My face heats when I remember what it was like to be with Sloan and Alec. The Ballers as a whole—minus Lake, of course—have always sent my heart skittering through my chest like I’m on speed.
“I saw Lake walk back early, are you okay?”
Before I can say anything, River shakes his head in disgust. “You’re supposed to be one of his best friends. Did you ask him if he was okay?”
Hayes ignores him completely. It’s as if River means nothing to him. His voice doesn’t even show up as a blip on “Ice Man’s” radar.
“I guess we’re done for the day,” Jacquin says from behind us. “If you don’t mind, Irving, can I talk to Tessa alone?”
Hayes looks me over, his deep blue eyes clouded in anger as he glares at Jacquin. I walk over to him. “What’s up?” I whisper.
“You played well today. This is probably going to make me sound like a dick, but I was hesitant when your dad told me his daughter played and was invited to camp. You’re really good. To hell with those other guys. They obviously don’t love the game enough if they’re going to hate on a female player. Skill is skill.”
My chest expands. Wow. That was really nice of him to say. “Thanks, Sellers.”
He winks at me, then places the ball that was in his hand in the last spot on the basketball rack before walking back toward camp. When I turn to face Hayes, River is gone, too.
“What did he want?” Hayes asks.
“To tell me how good I am.”
He peeks at him over his shoulder. “I don’t like him.”
“You’re not a fan, ‘Ice Man’?”
He turns toward me, a smirk on his face that makes me shiver. He traces his fingers around my ear, taking the flyaway hairs that escaped from my ponytail with them. “I’m only sharing you with the Ballers, Tessa.”
My heart skips a beat. I stare into his eyes, and even my toes curl inside my sneakers. Why does that sound like such a promise?
17
Lake and River aren’t in the cafeteria for lunch, so I actually sit with the Ballers and a few of the other guys. They’re all happily talking about each of their individual sessions. Hayes doesn’t talk much, but I get from the other Centers here that my dad put them through the wringer. I can’t say Jacquin was that hard on us, but I think he was getting the point across in a different way. I have a suspicion he knew me working with Lake and River would end up the way it did; he was just waiting for it.
Sloan and Alec keep staring at me. I’m pretty quiet throughout lunch, only because this is the first time I’m sitting with them at all, and I feel like it’s only because Lake isn’t here. What if Lake were here? I’d probably be sitting by myself since the lacrosse team isn’t here either. Ryan, though, asks me how our session went. I leave out the fact that I accidentally hit Lake, and he made a big freaking deal about it. I told him Jacquin was a good Coach, and that he impressed me. He didn’t show me anything new, but he did make a point with Lake that needed to be said. This isn’t RHS. He doesn’t own the fucking camp like he owns the school. He needed to be taken down a notch.
Afterward, we all break, the guys groaning that they can’t wait to get in the shower. Trust me, I’ve been in rooms with a bunch of sweaty guys before, and it’s not always pleasant. Hayes, though, has this bit of sweet aroma. He doesn’t smell bad at all, even though I can tell he worked hard. I wis
h I could have seen him practice and watch how my dad worked them. I miss being my dad’s student in a lot of ways.
I skip up the steps to my cabin and swing the door open. Right when I walk in, a hand closes around my arm and throws me forward. I spin to find Lake, his muscles taut, his body practically vibrating with anger. “Don’t you ever fucking do that to me again.”
I swallow. He seems more on edge than I’ve ever seen him. Even when he and River drew the dick on my face, he was controlled. Right now, though, it feels as if he’s barely holding it together. “I said I was sorry about knocking you over. It was an accident.”
He stalks toward me. The back of my calves hit the bed. I teeter for a moment but stay upright. “I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about Sellers throwing me out of the session.”
Lake is vibrating. His knuckles are white at his sides. I take a breath and put my hand up between us. I know Lake can be unhinged, but this is more than that. Part of me wants to say that it was his own fucking fault. Jacquin told us he didn’t want to hear any shit during the practice, and he didn’t listen. “I told you before that we should just ignore one another.”
He looks me up and down. “How can I ignore you? You’re everywhere.”
Bile rises up my throat. I don’t like the way he’s staring at me, but he’s like a caged tiger. I don’t want to poke the beast and give him a reason. “I think you should leave now, Lake.”
His nostrils flare. “You embarrassed me in front of my little brother, and that fucking pretentious Sellers.”
I lick my lips, trying to keep my own body under control. “Lake,” I say calmly. “You did it to yourself. You didn’t have to start shit with me.”
“I did because you’re always fucking there. You’re always fucking in my face,” he snarls. He lunges forward like he’s going to get me, and I fall back on the bed, a small scream escaping. He steps back and laughs. The sound makes goosebumps spread over my arms. He’s lost it. He’s completely lost it this time. “I’m sick of you always being around.”
