Page 15 of Game On

“Yikes.”

Dawn stares at me and shakes her head. “Jesus. You really did go to a private school, didn’t you? Who says yikes?”

I belly laugh, shoving her a little in the shoulder. “Shut up.”

My outfit does exactly what I want it to do. Everyone’s still glaring at me, the Broadwell Academy bitch they don’t want here. But the guys? Most of their stares dip lower, checking me out. It gives me a sick satisfaction all day. When lunch rolls around, I know I’ve made the exact impression I want to. The Ballers are glaring at me as I sashay by them with my tray, acting as if nothing is wrong. The girl on Ryan, whose name I found out is Rhonda Kyle, practically stomps off when she first sees me. I pick at my salad and laugh and joke with Dawn the entire time.

I’m not naive enough to think I’ve won or that the Ballers are done with me, but at least I can have this moment. And this won’t even be my triumph of the day. That I’m saving for later.

“Tell me you’re coming to the Sign-Up event after school,” I say to Dawn, leaning in close.

She rolls her eyes and looks around the cafeteria. The place is decked out in blue and gold. The Ballers are even wearing button-up shirts with blue and gold ties. “Jesus. Is everyone obsessed with this?”

“It’s a big deal,” I tell her, my smile instantly widening at the bomb I’ll drop on everyone later today.

She shrugs. “You know I’m going.”

I smile and then we stand to leave before the bell rings. Her heels click over the floor as we put our trays down, and I start out for Life Sciences. We’re in the middle of learning how to track household budgets right now. I can’t really scoff at it. Sure, my family has personal accountants for this stuff, but it’s good to know what’s going on with your own money. Especially since professional women’s basketball players aren’t making bank like their male counterparts. Yes, some of that can be attributed to the money the league makes overall, but the gap between women and men’s pay in this instance is sickening. Now, if I can get a sponsorship deal with Nike, that’s another thing.

A hand slams against a locker right in front of me. I skid to a stop and glare up at Sloan Ivy. His hazel eyes, coupled with the speckling of freckles over his skin, make him look less threatening, but I know better. His black pants and white button-up hug his muscles. His hair is gelled today and despite the fact his father is a senator and his parents are paraded around everywhere, he doesn’t look quite as haughty as he should. “Sloan,” I say, looking past him to my classroom.

He looks me over the same way I did him. Heat crawls up my neck and a fire starts in my lower stomach. “You certainly look different,” he says, a disinterested drawl to his voice.

“Sign-Ups Day.” I give him a demure smile and a slight shrug.

“You’ll be next to Daddy?”

“Aren’t I always?” We stare at each other for a little while longer. “Will Senator Ivy be with us tonight?”

His eyes draw in. “No,” he says curtly. “But my mother will be there.”

I can’t help the regret that laces through me. I honestly didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject. “I didn’t—”

“It doesn’t matter, Dale,” he says with a sigh. “It’s best you keep close to Daddy tonight.” He winks. “We wouldn’t want something happening to you.” He reaches up and trails a finger down my cheek. Right where Lake drew a dick on my face. His lips curve up wickedly. “Right?”

I push his hand out of the way, then place my palm against his chest. My fingers burn once I feel his tight muscles, but I move him back steadily until I’m standing right next to the open door of my class. “Thanks for your concern, Sloan, but I think I’ll be okay.”

I turn to leave, but Sloan reaches out and grabs my wrist, forcing me to turn around. “What are you doing here, Tessa?”

His eyes burn into me, but otherwise, they’re practically unreadable. All I know is that his look makes goosebumps sprout over my body. “Attending school,” I tell him, my mouth dry. I don’t know why they distrust me so much. The problem has never been me. Maybe they’re just worried that I’m sick of their bullshit now. That I’m ready to speak up and act out. I am, but what’s to come isn’t about them. It’s only about me. “See you tonight,” I tell him, then peel my wrist away from his fingers and head into class.

For the rest of the period, I stare at my wrist where we touched. I swear I can still feel his skin on mine. When the bell rings, I follow everyone out of class and head toward the gym. When I’m halfway down the hall, I stop in my tracks. At the end of the corridor, I see Tim “The Real Deal” Dale towering over everyone. A smile immediately splits my lips apart, and I move forward, stepping around people who are going to slow. “Da—”

My words die on my lips. He’s standing next to Ryan, his huge hand on his shoulder. They both turn my way, but the looks on their faces can’t be more different. My dad comes toward me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. “Hey, Pumpkin.”

Embarrassing nickname aside, it’s good to see him. I miss seeing him every day. Since the separation, I don’t see him nearly as much as I used to. I didn’t realize until this moment how much that sucks. I mean, I’m seventeen. My parents getting a divorce shouldn’t be that big of a deal. I’ll be going off to college soon, anyway. It’s hard to explain, but itisthat big of a deal, like everything is slowly ripping to shreds around me and I can’t stop it.

Dad steps back. Ryan is still staring daggers at me, but I don’t care. He won’t do anything in front of my dad. He may not hand things to me like the others think, but I’m still his little girl. “You look beautiful,” my dad says.

I smile up at him. “Look at you, old man.” I tug on the sides of his suit coat. “Looking dapper.”

My dad does a little strut. He’s always been quite the showoff. Even Ryan smiles at that. Then, Dad puts his hand around my shoulder again. “I thought we could talk.”

“Oh,” I say. “I have gym right now.”

He looks down his nose at me. “I don’t think they’ll mind. Just for a few minutes.”

I shrug. “Okay, I guess.”

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