Page 23 of Game On

Talking to Chase is nice. The nerves I had about coming here tonight start to ease until I’m relaxed and comfortable with him. He’s older, and I feel like he’s so far removed from all the Baller bullshit that he couldn’t care less, even when the Ballers notice I’m there. Heat creeps up the back of my neck. I don’t want to be on their radar. Not tonight, and definitely not now. This is one of the only nights I’ve felt practically normal since enrolling in Rockport High. Or maybe even since Mom and Dad started fighting.

“Do you want to do dance?”

My ears perk up. The DJ has just started a slow song. For some reason, this seems like a better alternative than dancing to an upbeat song where I have to worry if I look like an idiot. I nod, and he takes my hand, leading me to the floor. We stop on the very edge, which I’m thankful for. The Ballers have pretty much declared the inner circle of the dance floor as their own. Not one person other than their dates has penetrated it all night.

At Broadwell, there was a popular clique. It was mostly the guys and girls who were the richest and the best looking. I may have even been considered as part of that clique even though I never would have acted the way the Ballers do.

“I wish Christie would have told me how pretty you were,” Chase whispers.

I almost stumble but catch myself. I save all of my superior physical qualities for basketball, otherwise, I’m a mess.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you before,” he says. “But you’re grown up now.”

His voice is husky as he speaks into my ear. The music is so loud closer to the dance floor that it’s the only way I would be able to hear him. I don’t know what to say in answer, so I just don’t say anything. My tongue seems to have grown three sizes in my mouth, making it impossible to talk.

Chase laughs nervously, his hand softening on my back. “This might be a good time for you to say something.”

I laugh instead. The only thing going through my head is how bad at this I am. Or maybe it’s just with Chase. I had no problem with Ryan Linc’s hands on me earlier. This feels foreign and strange. Maybe that’s because it’s how it’s supposed to be.

I never think of anything to say, and the next minute, it doesn’t matter. There are gasps parroting through the crowd, and then laughter. I feel Chase lift his head and then freeze in our gentle swaying. “C’mon,” he says after a moment.

“What is it?”

He’s already dragging me off the dance floor the way we came. We thread our way through couples. When I meet their gazes, their eyes widen. One girl says, “Oh my God, is that you?”

I turn to look, but Chase has a death grip on my hand. “Don’t,” he says.

I should listen, but I don’t. My heart thumps like crazy in my chest. Before I even look over my shoulder, I know it has to be about me. People are laughing. Chase is trying to usher me out of there. Ryan told me it was going to get worse. Apparently, embarrassing me in front of the whole school on the first day wasn’t enough for him, now he has to do it at a dance. In front of Chase, too. I tweak my neck just a little further…and all the color drains from my face. It’s me, alright. I’m in my running outfit from the other day at the track. My hair is a mess on my head and I’m mid stumbling back. On my forehead in black permanent marker are the words “I suck” with the penis drawn close to my lips. My stomach drops, and I really do stumble this time. Dawn is rushing toward me, her eyes bright and angry. Suddenly, I can’t stand all of this. I wiggle myself out of Chase’s grasp and run toward the gym doors. He calls after me, but I don’t stop.

I knew I shouldn’t have come. I should have known the minute I thought how normal this all seemed that it would have been anything but.

Fucking Lake.

14

By the time I get outside, tears are stinging my eyes. From the high of being called pretty by a cute guy to completely humiliated. I want to puke. I want to expel the fact that that even happened from my body, but I also know that the memory of it will still be there.

My phone starts ringing. I glance down at Dawn’s number, but I stick it back in the small purse I brought with me. It rings again, this time a text from a number I don’t recognize. It’s Chase. I groan inwardly, and I really want to crawl into a hole and not come out again. He tells me the picture is gone, and he wants to know where I am. Dawn probably took them to where my car usually is, but what they don’t know is that I actually parked in the student lot this evening.

My bottom lip starts to swell I’ve been biting it so hard. Chase is nice, but how am I supposed to even talk to him again? I’m certainly not going to tell him where I am. I’m going home, and I’m staying in bed all weekend until I have to come out for school on Monday.

As I approach my car, I see a dark figure leaning against it. I slow to a walk when I see it’s Sloan leaning casually against it. The little bit of light from his screen was the only reason I could see who it was. He looks up when he sees me and puts his phone away. “How’s your night going?” he asks with a smirk.

“Fuck you.” I fumble for my keys, ignoring him, and going to the driver’s side. My hands are shaking so badly that it’s hard to hit the button on the fob to get the doors unlocked. Finally, I get it. I slide in and go to shut the door, but Sloan’s there.

He leans over the top of the car. “You can’t go anywhere tonight, Recruit. Tryout trials start now.”

I throw my purse in the passenger seat and step back out of the car. Sloan backs up, his eyes widening just slightly at the look on my face. I don’t know what the fuck tryout trials are, probably just another way they can fuck with me, but I’m so not in the mood. “I’m going home, asshole. Isn’t that what you guys wanted? Humiliate me so I leave. Congratulations, it fucking worked. But if you even think this is enough so I won’t be there when tryouts start, you’re all fucked in the head. And you’ve seriously underestimated me.”

He crosses his arms in front of his chest slowly. His hazel eyes are currently a brown-green color that look almost muddy with the lack of light. “Why, when I asked you what you were doing here at RHS, didn’t you say anything about basketball?”

“Why the fuck do you think?”

He tsks. “Mouthy.”

His eyes zero in on me, and instead of making me want to punch him in the face, I tell him the truth. “I knew you guys wouldn’t like it. You would’ve done just what Lake did to me with the fucking dick on my face, only worse. What’s next? Are you going to try to injure me so I can’t play? Pull some Tonya Harding bullshit?”

He narrows his eyes almost imperceptibly.

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