Page 148 of Scoring the Player
The energy shifts as Aiden stands, his legs slightly bowed—and cut.
I can’t fault the sideways glances coming my way, given yesterday’s…reaction. It doesn’t stop me from glaring at a rook and Jamie, nodding for them to move the fuck along.
It’s not very hard to ignore someone you need to ignore because not ignoring them makes you feel smaller and smaller with each breath. It becomes hard, though, when that someone calls you out.
“…after the rebound, Arnaz trailed the play.” His stylus draws an inverted triangle with me at the apex. “If you—” I shoot daggers at the screen as he turns to me. “Ifhesprinted and cut off the sideline instead, we’d force a half-court possession, thus preventing their point guard getting off a wide open three.”
I grind my teeth at my obvious miss.
He’s right.
Gross.
Everyone seems to be eating up the shit he’s dishing.
“Your stance is too soft here,” he calls out Johan. “Get bigger, hands higher, contest the shot. You don’t let up on a player like this. Study the scouting report.”
I roll my eyes when Johan’s head nods up and down like a fucking bobblehead.
Traitors.
Still, no one can call me unprofessional or immature. I grit my teeth, but I listen.
Then we hit the court.
And…Eh. Professionalism is overrated.
“When he drives left, you need?—”
“Nah.” I stand up straight. “Go run drills with someone else.”
“Arnaz, it’s my job?—”
“Yo, James!” I call over another assistant coach. “Can you cover us?”
Aiden exchanges a glance with James, who shakes his head and falls back.
“I’ll fuck off once you listen to what I have to say,” he says.
“I said no,” I grit out. “I’m good to pay a fine. Back down, or I’m out.”
He raises his hands and backs off. “It doesn’t have to be like this.”
“It is like this,” I fire over my shoulder, giving him my back.
“Seriously?”
He’s waiting for me in the parking lot after practice.
“Can you just hear me out, and then I’ll fuck off?”
I keep walking, stabbing the unlock button on my—Sid’s—fob.
“Why here?” I launch my bag onto the seat as soon as the butterfly doors expand and spin to face him.
“What?”
“Of all the teams. Why this one?”
