Page 46 of Game On

He releases his hold. “Don’t ask me that.”

“A truth for a truth, Sloan.”

“You’re asking me to say something against my friends, and I won’t.”

“But I’m not, I’m asking—” I cut myself short. I have my answer. He doesn’t want to answer because his answer would be that he thinks I can beat Lake out. I want to smile, but the tension coming off Sloan now is off the charts. He’s not amused by any of this. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

I pick at my food, eating half of it before Sloan responds. “Did you really like Ryan that year at camp?”

The color drains from my face. “You mean the year you guys humiliated me in front of everybody? The year Ryan pretended to like me back, but come to find out he only wanted to throw me off my game so Lake could win Most Valuable Shooting Guard? The year he told everybody how sad it was that I kept following him around? Yeah, I liked him. When is everyone going to stop doing Lake’s dirty work for him?”

“Is that your question?”

I glare back at him. “No, because I’m guessing I know the answer to it already.” People like Lake never change.

“Ask me if Ryan liked you back.”

I scoff. “No, I know that answer. I want to know why you guys hate me. How’s that for a question?”

Sloan shoves the rest of his chicken strip in his mouth and continues to chew while he wipes his fingers off on a napkin. When he’s done, he says, “We don’t hate you, so I can’t answer that question.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“I already told you you don’t know what you’re talking about when it comes to the Ballers. Stop trying to figure it out.”

“Whatever. Maybe I don’t care anymore.”

“False.”

“It wasn’t a question.”

He shrugs. “Sounded like it to me. I know a lie when I hear one. You care, Tessa. I don’t know how you still do, to be honest. I ask myself that a lot. I’d ask you why, except I don’t even think you can tell me why you still care even after the things we’ve done to you.” He reaches his hand up and tugs on a lock of my hair that’s near my shoulders. The gesture is almost intimate in the way he stares at me while he does it. It’s just so Sloan. Confident. Teasing.

My mouth goes dry. “What was it that you wanted to tell me?”

He shakes his head. “I can’t tell you now.” He slides out of the booth. “Sorry, Dale. I don’t want to play anymore.” He turns and walks up to the front of the restaurant, bringing out a card to pay for our meal. While he does, I sit back in my seat and think about what just happened. Apparently, Alec isn’t the only one who likes to be cryptic.

24

I’m still thinking about the texts I got from Alec while Sloan and I were at the sandwich shop the next day. He apologized to me. One, for telling the Ballers every intimate detail of our encounter, and two, for the fact that he’s going to be very busy over the next few days. His last text still sticks out to me.I’ll be thinking about you.

I want to stay mad at him, but it’s useless. In fact, it’s hard to stay mad at any of them right now. Today has been pretty good. Sloan has taken it upon himself to walk me to my classes. He even sat with Dawn and I during lunch for a little while, completely blowing off one of the girls that usually sits with them when she made a snotty comment toward me. He and David talked sports, mostly, but it was nice to have him there.

Sloan and I understand one another more now. Or at least it feels like we’re getting there.

When school ends, I meet up with Shawn, Matt, and the Ballers for Alec’s first playoff game at home. They’ll play one home, two away, then two home. Best of five games moves on. My days will be filled with baseball for the next week if not longer. I don’t know what Alec is going to do if they win this playoff series. It’ll directly affect tryouts, though I doubt he’ll lose his spot on the team or anything. The Ballers wouldn’t have that. He’ll just have to talk to Coach Bradley about it.

Matt and Shawn stand close to one another just outside the entrance to the baseball field. I walk up to them. “Dale, man,” Shawn says. “That was an amazing game yesterday.”

“Thanks,” I tell them. I’ve already put my bookbag in my car, so I just have my cell phone in my pocket. “Listen, if you guys want to do some training in the mornings before school, I’m down. Tryouts are coming up quick.”

I’m saying this for Matt, but I don’t want to single him out. He looks up. “I think I’ll actually take you up on that,” he says.

“Great. We can meet at the track and run laps, sprint intervals, that kind of thing. Maybe over the weekend when we’re not at a baseball game, you guys can come over. I got that court you wanted to see.”

Sloan walks up behind me and drops his hand around my shoulder. He squeezes me there before he says, “Are you inviting these boys to your house?”

“To train,” I say.

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