Page 16 of Foul Line

I don’t even stay to watch what happens next. I have basketball to worry about.

9

The short workshops throughout the day are grueling. They’re also laced with nasty quips from Lake and his tool of a brother, River.What? Were their parents high when they named them? Do they have a sister named Sea?

I stomp toward my cabin faster. I should be the last one to talk about names. After all, I’m named after the fact that my dad was going after his fifth championship ring when I was born. I’m ecstatic I can shorten it to Tessa, so it actually sounds like a real name. I shake my head at myself. I’m only picking on their names because I’m pissed they still picked on me today.

I didn’t let them get away with it once. I may not have always came back with a retort of my own, but oftentimes, I let my actions speak louder.Call me a bitch again, and I’ll pull up for a three in front of you and smile as it hits nothing but net. Assholes.

As soon as I get back to my room, I peel my clothes off and throw them into the hamper. I forgot how many times I have to do laundry while I’m here. My mom usually takes care of it for me back home, but eventually, I’ll have to make the trek to the wash house that has a full laundromat plus extra showers and bathrooms, not that I’ve ever seen anyone use them before. Each of the cabins has its own bathroom, though I suppose the guys have to share more than I do. Maybe they use the extra showers. Who knows?

After I’m rid of my sweat-soaked workout clothes, I pull my bathing suit out and slip it on. I’ve been dreaming about taking a dip in the lake all morning and afternoon. Grabbing a towel from my bag, I throw it over my shoulder and then slip out of the small cabin. There’s only a few feet of grass before I hit the sand of the manmade beach, so I don’t even bother with footwear. I just drop my cabin keys and my towel right in the sand and keep walking until my feet glide into the water.

I look both ways down the beach. There’s no one else in sight. Perfect.

I move in, letting the small ripples of water lap at me until I’m waist deep. The sun is hovering halfway between the horizon and the sky, its rays still on full blast. I splash some water on me, but then figure, fuck it, and dive in. It seriously feels so good. I love the natural feel of the water, the crisp, cool of it on my skin. Back home, the water smells like chlorine and somehow, it’s just not as naturally refreshing as this is. I make a mental note to call my mother after I go back to my room before dinner, and then I lie back and float on my back for a while, eyes closed, and arms outstretched.

Today went well. I did everything I wanted. Played well, worked hard, and impressed the coaches. Though, that usually doesn’t take much. Unfortunately, when they hear Timothy Dale’s daughter is coming to camp, they automatically think I got in because he’s my dad. All I have to do is make a basket and they’re congratulating me. It’ll take them a while to understand that I mean business. I’m not just here for looks or because my dad doesn’t want to hurt my feelings. No, I deserve it.

It’s kind of fucked up that guys probably never have to have this conversation with themselves. Plus, if Lake calls me Daddy’s Girl one more time, I’m going to straight up murder his fucking ass.

I slip under the water and open my eyes. Everything around me is muted. The big ball of a sun is fuzzy around the edges, rays reaching out in every direction, almost refracted by the water. Beyond that, I can see the very tip of the canopy of trees that surround Lake Holly. When I was younger, I used to play around with the idea of buying this land and using it as nothing but an all-girls basketball camp. No boys allowed.

The girls wouldn’t have to prove anything to the coaches. They wouldn’t have to worry about telling everyone they’re fine if they tripped over their feet and ended up sprawled on the ground. Everyone would already know they could take it and that they don’t need to be treated like fairy princesses for Christ’s sake.

By the time my lungs start to burn, I place my feet on the sandy bottom and push, letting the water glide down my face as I emerge from the surface. I’ve floated farther from shore, my shoulders just barely above the water line now. I pull the hair tie from my hair, put it on my wrist, and let my hair cascade down my back. Holding my head back, I let the water roll over the tresses and then pull my head back up again. It’s straight as silk now.

“Never thought I’d see that,” a voice says.

Startled, I turn, blinking when water runs into my eyes. Sloan Ivy is sitting next to my towel on the beach. His shoes are off, stuffed into the sand as if he’s been there for a while. He’s shirtless and leaning back like he doesn’t have a care in the world other than watching me swim.

There goes my moment of peace.

“What’s that, Ivy? Seeing a girl swim?”

I go to walk out, but all of a sudden, I feel exposed. I’m wearing my two-piece and with the way Sloan is staring at me right now, I’m not sure I want to get out just yet. Not with him here watching. “You forget I’ve seen you swim, Dale. But no, that’s not what I’m talking about.”

My face heats under his scrutiny. He’s talking about the time my dad invited all the Warriors over to my house when I made the team. All those players who were so quick to turn on me ate my food, hung out in my house, and swam in my pool. What a bunch of bastards. “I don’t think I care to know what you’re talking about.”

He shrugs. “I’m talking about Hayes talking shit to River…over you.”

“Well, someone around here has to have a set of balls.”

His jaw clamps shut, and I have to stop myself from smiling and giving myself a pat on the back. I’m actually really proud of that one.

And just because I feel like being a bitch, I ask, “How are your parents, Ivy? Good?”

I swear even from here I can see the pulse on his neck feather out a crazy rhythm. “So it’s going to be like that?”

“Afraid so,” I tell him.

“I didn’t really peg you for being petty, Dale. You just said you didn’t care. I think you care too much.”

“I guess you’ll never know.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “That’s where you’re wrong. You’re an open book. Always have been.”

I don’t say anything only because I think he’s right. Somehow, they always seem to know what I’m feeling even before I do. I’m going to have to work on that.

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