Page 42 of Game On

I’m not scared to go one-on-one with Lake. I’m used to it. Sometimes I win, sometimes he does, but he always plays dirty, even during friendly competitions like this.

Alec peels his shirt off and walks to the three-point line, his jeans hung low on his hips. I can’t help but stare at the little indentations on his back or the nice hip muscles that curve down, the same ones I touched yesterday. His pecs, too. God, he’s got basically everything. Completely drool worthy. Like I said, it’s not that I’ve never seen these guys without shirts on before, but I haven’t seen Alec without one since he made me O. It does wicked things to my insides.

Sloan walks by me while I stretch. His hand curves over my hip, his fingers grazing my ass. “If you’re a good girl and win the one-on-one, I’ll up the ante.” He gives me one squeeze and then sits down on the bench next to Ryan.

My skin burns through my jeans where he just touched. Ryan stares straight ahead, almost as if he’s trying to avoid my gaze. It doesn’t matter. I need to concentrate on what’s going to be happening here shortly.

Alec and Matt’s game starts, and from the very beginning, Matt doesn’t have a shot. He’s good. Everything is there. Offense, defense, but he’s got a problem with conditioning. It’s worse than I thought. I almost feel bad for him. In a way, it’s almost not fair because Alec is at the height of conditioning right now since he’s at the end of another baseball season, but still, Matt knew what was coming. Tryouts are two weeks away. This shit isn’t going to fly. When Alec makes the fifth shot, the final score is five to two. I can’t say for sure, but I’m pretty sure Alec was also playing it safe. He does have the first playoff game tomorrow. He has to be worried about injury. The baseball coach would kick his ass if he got injured and knew it was because he was screwing around with basketball.

Alec and Matt give each other knuckles. “Good game,” Alec tells him.

Matt only grunts. He knows he did a poor showing.

I watch Alec sit in the front row and take several huge gulps of water. The very ends of his dark hair drip with sweat. I’m begging him to look up at me, so I can tell him ‘Good game’, but he doesn’t budge. He just stares straight ahead.

Ryan calls out, “Hayes and Shawn next.”

When I look over, the Ballers are all huddled now, sans Hayes. Most likely talking about what they saw or didn’t see in Matt. When they’re done, Alec stands up fully and puts on his shirt. He catches eyes with me, and I immediately turn away. So much for telling him good game, but the moment I saw his eyes, I’m reminded of how close we got yesterday. I can understand friendship and sharing a bond since you were little, but sharing that kind of intimate stuff? I guess I hoped I was different. I could see them talking about the girls who hang all over them. Hell, I heard them the first day here on this very same court. Maybe Alec thinks of me the same way… If he does, nothing like that is ever happening again.

The next game starts. Hayes is really good. Shawn is, too. Their game is much closer, but Shawn wins five to three. When Ryan announces the score, I’m a little shocked. The game seemed closer than the score implies. They matched up well even though Hayes can play with the best of the centers. He needs to work on his outside shooting though, in case he ever finds himself with the ball during crunch time.

I’m up before Ryan even announces I’m next. I do a couple tuck jumps to stretch out and then walk forward, slapping hands with Hayes and Shawn. When I tell Hayes good game, he actually looks at me. I still can’t read his expression for the life of me, but at least he’s noticing my presence.

After they talk over that game, Ryan says that Lake and I are up. Lake comes strolling out onto the court with the ball in his hands. He hands it to me, one of those self-serving smirks on his face. “Girls first.” Never mind thatallthe Recruits got the ball first, he has to throw it out there that I’m a girl. Right away, I’m pissed. It’s what Lake likes to do. He likes to get in his opponent’s head even though he doesn’t have to. He’s a good enough player on his own, but it’s just his thing. I guess that’s what makes him a pure asshole on and off the court. He just likes to fuck with people.

But I duke him out of his jeans and make the first layup. So, there’s that.

He checks the ball to me harder for his turn. My jeans are limiting my range of motion. I almost wish I’d asked to change clothes, but no one else did, so I didn’t even think about it. My bra, too, just isn’t cutting it for sports. The girls are flopping all over the place. Not for the first time, I’ve cursed my breasts as an athlete. They’re just cumbersome sometimes.

I slap at the ball and get it way from Lake. We both lunge for the recovery, but Lake pushes me in order to grab it first, then he does a spin move and shoots, scoring. I seethe a little at the contact. It’s nothing I didn’t expect from him, but I’m pretty sure the Ballers would call one of the Recruits out for doing it.

The next shot, I drop back for a long-range jumper, but hit just off the mark so that the ball rolls around the rim and then out. I take in a deep breath. It’s still one to one, but I wanted to keep up on him. Lake’s like a shark when he senses fear or doubt.

During Lake’s turn, he keeps working me back until we’re inside the foul line. He dips his shoulder and hits me good in the chest. I stumble back, allowing him the space he needs to make the shot. When he grabs the rebound and throws it to me, he’s smiling.

“Friendly game,” Alec calls out.

Lake turns to him with a glare I’ve never seen one of them use on the other. When I walk past him to take my place at the front of the key, he whispers, “Everyone always goes soft on you. First, Daddy, now Alec. You’re not fucking your Daddy, too, are you?”

“Fuck you.”

“Dale,” Ryan snaps. “Friendly game.”

Lake just snickers. It doesn’t matter. The only way to make him pay is by winning the game. This time, I do the same thing as last time except I sink the shot. Nothing but net. Shawn and Matt clap. “Get it, Dale,” one of them says. Maybe it’s just because they’d like one of us to win, but I hope it’s because they also think Lake is a gigantic fucking asshole.

Lake make his next two shots, as do I. It’s four to four. Lake’s got the ball. I admit, he completely dukes me out, but when he pulls up for the shot, he misses. He swears, loudly. The curse echoing around the huge, empty space.

“Come on, Lake,” Ryan says. The rest of the Ballers clap for him and shout more encouragement.

I’m too busy thinking I can win this game. All I have to do is make the next shot.

I dribble the ball, trying to fake Lake out, but he’s staring me down, looking at any slight muscle movement that gives me away. Finally, I just run straight toward him, but then dribble the ball between my legs, so it ends up in the other hand. I get past him. My heart soars. I take one step…two. Then, a hand catches my shirt. I’m falling forward, resistance on my shirt while a rip sound tears through my ears. Before I even know what happens, I land hard, my hands catching my fall at the last moment.

I immediately get to my feet and turn right toward Lake. “What the fuck, O’Brien? You can’t understand English?”

He laughs. “You just can’t hack it with us, Dale. Tell the truth.”

I’m in his face now. He’s smirking down at me, and there’s nothing I want more than to punch this fucker in the face, but that’ll solve nothing. In fact, it might just ruin everything I’ve tried to accomplish for myself. “The truth will come out,” I say. “Don’t worry.”

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