Page 34 of A Shot at Love
She barrels down the court, feeling that hunger for an advantage in the final minute. I race after her, but I’m not quite fast enough. Jadea was standing in the corner,but she’s so fast, she races past me. Just as Clark is about to score, Jadea throws a hand in the air. I wince, hoping it will be a clean block, but Jadea clips Clark’s hand, and the whistle blows.
Clark missed the shot, but she has two free throws. Jadea is escorted to the bench since she’s fouled out. I grab her hand before she leaves. “I’m sorry.” I shake my head. “That was my fault.”
We won’t have our star player these last few moments, and it’s because of me. Jadea looks more serious than I’ve ever seen her. “We’ll win.” She leans in, eyes locked on mine. “Not you. Not me.Wewill win. I promise.”
I’m startled by her declaration but manage to turn my attention to Clark’s free throws.
She makes the first one. 78–77, them.
She misses the second one. Unusual. Still 78–77.
There’s 23 seconds left in the game, meaning we have just one go at this. One full shot clock run at this. We don’t have any timeouts. We need to move.
I think about Coach Rembert. About her familiar directions. About Jadea’s fevered promise. About Daniel and his T-shirt. My mom and her pom-poms.
This is for them.
I shock Indiana by practically sprinting down the court. I should be wasting time by their account and waiting for one perfect shot to end the game. Instead, I force my team to pass.
To pass and pass.
To their credit, they don’t seem surprised. Despite my eight turnovers tonight, passing is what I do best. I can see every teammate and anticipate their opportunities for success. The paths to the basket.
The clock is counting down, and I’m still standing at the top of the key, directing our passing. The girls are running around, pushing themselves to the limit in these last few seconds. Their defenders are giving chase.
Finally, when the clock reaches ten seconds, I leave the top of the key. I bounce pass to Taherah, who is my backup point guard anyway, and I run as fast as I can. I rush behind Allyson and Flo, keeping their position under the basket. I push past Indiana defenders and come out on the other side of the basket. Taherah has directed the pass to my side, Olabisi’s wing, and she has the ball.
I’m open, my defender two steps behind me, just a few feet away from the basket. Too far for the easy lay-up, but close enough for a fairly basic jump shot. When I catch the ball there’s three seconds left. My pulse is so loud in my ears.
I spring up on my toes and shoot.
It doesn’t swish. It doesn’t go down easily. It bounces and bumbles and bumps the backboard. Then it rattles home. Basket made. 79–78, us.
The buzzer goes off, and the crowd goes wild. Jadea jumps off the bench, running to hug the breath out of me. I’m laughing and laughing, my chest light. Taherah and Olabisi are suddenly there, and we’re all screaming,crying, laughing. We won. It wasn’t a playoff game, but it felt like one.
I pull myself free from the pile, smiling brightly. My eyes seek out Daniel, and when I find him, across the court, near the media table, I find myself running. It’s a strange instinct, but I don’t tamp it down. I fling myself into his open arms, and then we’re laughing together. My sweaty cheek sticks to his newly minted t-shirt.
When I pull back, I admire his shirt. “When did you have time to make this?”
Daniel frowns in thought. “Hard to say. It might have been a rush job that my assistant and I struggled with. The letters might even be iron-on.”
The giddy laughter finally flickers out, and the moment grows more serious as I look at him. “It’s perfect. Thank you.” He smiles a little, studying my face as though to see if my words are genuine. I hope he sees every little bit of hope he’s given me reflected in my face. I lean in close to him, savoring his minty scent and the reappearance of his half-dimple. “Best date I ever had,” I say softly.
Daniel’s expression melts, and he looks at me with galaxies in his eyes. He reaches a hand to my cheek, and I inhale sharply as he tucks a wayward baby hair back into place. Before he can say anything, there’s a tapping on my shoulder. Someone with an ESPN media badge on. “An interview, Ms. Larger?” They gesture to a smiling Holly Rowe. You know the game is being nationally televised when you have the brilliant Holly Rowe interviewing you.
Daniel nudges me encouragingly, but some of my confidence has deflated. Just because I’m getting better at talking to my teammates and to Daniel doesn’t mean these interviews feel any easier. Especially since the last one I had basically upended my life. I nod hesitantly and accept the microphone so I can talk to Holly.
I nervously flip a braid over my shoulder as Holly and the camera turn their attention towards me. “Annie, I think we’ll start with this game. I have to say it felt like one of the most exciting of this season. Do you agree?”
Familiar territory, and I want to pull Holly aside to thank her. “I’m sure it was very exciting for the fans, Holly, though I’ll say it was a little more nerve-racking for the team.”
This gets a small chuckle from Holly. She continues, “You started off the game struggling with your passes and shots. You finished with 14 points and nine assists. What changed?”
I try very hard not to look at Daniel, standing a few feet away, talking to his cameramen and pointing to my team, who is finally heading off the court. “Someone reminded me that I can change my mindset. It’s been a hard week, and my game felt off as a result.”
Holly’s eyes are sparkling. “Is that someone Daniel Chan?”
“No comment,” I respond, but my voice is teasing.
