Page 193 of Scoring the Player
I shake it offagainand keep my head in the game.
Sid returns the favor by blocking Zyair’s layup.
Salem and Sid square up on our next possession. Sid dribbles slowly as he advances, pausing like he’s about to shoot, eyes therim, then launches left with a swift crossover. Salem buys the fake, shifting right. Sid attacks before Salem recovers and fires a no-look, behind-the-back pass to me.
Double-clutching the ball, I explode toward the rim, veer left, then sidestep right to shake Cillian before launching through the air. One second, there’s a clear lane to release an easy floater, then the next, Ezekiel and Zyair swarm in and mob me. Ezekiel denies the shot too hard, forcing Zyair to scramble for the ball before it’s knocked out of bounds. He bats it in, and it ricochets off my leg and back out of bounds, securing the Lions the next possession since my leg is the last to touch it.
Nick forces Zeke to turn over the ball. I dive for it at the same time as Cillian. Beating him to it, I roll to my back and wing it to Sid, but Salem intercepts and lobs it to Onyx, who makes a fast break and windmill dunks it in, making our crowd lose their shit.
“Hear that?” Cillian sneers, cranking his head in Sid’s direction. “Whose house is it now?”
Sid and I lock eyes.
Yeah, time to light them the fuck up.
Onyx can’t get an open look thanks to Nick’s tight defense, so he gets off the ball to Cillian, which makes no sense since Sid’s locking him out. Salem, who’s wide open, gestures for the ball. I transition to defend him. Throwing a side-eye my way, he books it as I draw near. He pings to the opposite wing, but I’m on him before he can turn and get into position to catch and shoot a corner three.
It’s the first time we’re one-on-one for the night. Not for my lack of trying. Every time I’ve moved toward him, I’m double-teamed.
Squatting low, I angle to keep my eyes on the ball. When my hand grazes his hip, he stiffens. I push forward, eating up the space he tries to create, and turn to face him. “Can we talk after?”
His jaw tics as he stares straight ahead.
“Just give me five?—”
“Don’t,” he grits out.
The arena quakes as the crowd explodes. I whip around to find Ussef hanging off the rim.
The crowd’s so loud it almost drowns out the halftime buzzer.
“Hey, wait.” I race to catch up with him.
He ignores me and keeps walking until he disappears into the tunnel.
Damn.
CHAPTER 47
SALEM
Idrown out the noise and crash into my locker room chair as the guys pour in, amped up. We listen as Coach schools us on what worked and what to fix for the second half.
“Jones, how’s your foot?” a trainer asks as she works on Cillian’s shoulders.
“I’m good,” I reply, jumping to my feet and peeling out of my wet jersey and shorts for a dry set.
Two more quarters and then I can get the hell outta this town and away from the constant gnawing in my gut to be near him.
He asked for just five minutes.
Like fixing whatever this is can be done in five minutes.
And that fucker…Aiden.
I could see him being Blue’s type. Why does he look close to our age? He’s got to be the youngest assistant coach in the league.
My stomach tightens.
