Page 62 of The Assist
I can do this. For my team. For myself. I can live up to the standard that Blair believes I’m capable of.
Damn, she’s good.
The locker room door opens, and a few other guys stop in to change before hitting the weight room. “Gotta go. See ya later?”
“Sure, text me later. I need to do some school stuff for a few hours.”
Damn, this girl spends more time studying than anyone I know.
I find Shaw in the weight room as he’s finishing a set of squats. By the annoyed look he shoots me, Coach has already informed him that we’re going to be working together from now on.
He moves to pull all the weight off, but I shake my head. “Another set.”
Shaw glares but silently adds another ten pounds to each side of the barbell.
“You need to build up your leg strength and endurance. When you’re leading the point, your legs have to be as fresh at the end of the game as the beginning. Forget about what the rest of the guys are doing,” I say as he looks around the room, envy clear in his eyes. “You have to be stronger, faster, and smarter out there.”
He takes the weight on his back and squats out eight reps. When he finishes and faces me, breath ragged, the glint in his eye is determined. I hide my approval.
Every exercise is the same. I push him harder than he wants, but he doesn’t back down.
“All right, let’s hit the gym for some ball drills and then we’ll join the team for the run.”
His jaw flexes. As we walk out onto the court, I grab two balls and pass one back to Shaw. “I usually start with some half court runs, switching off every turn. Left up, right back, and so on until I feel warm.”
I take off, and a split second later, he’s beside me, pushing me faster. I lose track of how many times we’ve gone up and down the court after ten.
“All right, now, suicides with the ball. Stop and touch the line with your free hand and then switch over to the other hand.”
Again, we turn what should be a light warm up into a race. The only sound in the gym is the steady drumming of the ball hitting the hardwood and our sneakers squeaking as we pivot at each line on the court. We stop after each one is complete, only resting as long as the other will allow. My foot throbs, but I don’t dare let him see me weak.
Sweat pours down my face, my back, my arms. After the fifth, rookie cracks a smile. After seven, I join him, my lips curling of their own accord. At ten, a laugh that is filled with tension, relief, and hope escapes from my chest, and the sound is like the first crack in a dam. It grows and builds and then is joined by Shaw until we collapse on the floor completely exhausted, probably delirious, but I’ve gained his respect. And him, mine.
And Blair was right.
* * *
Nathan’s birthday is the following week and as much as I don’t feel like going out, I can’t deny the man a proper twenty-first birthday celebration. Joel elbows me and lifts a hand. I turn my attention to the door to see Blair entering The Hideout. I swear the guy has girl radar and one eye always trained on the door.
My girl couldn’t make it until after she finished studying. She’s starting to make me feel guilty for my big brain with all the time she spends at the library. Not that I don’t ever need to open a book, but I only have to a couple of hours a week tops. Whereas it’s all Blair seems to do.
I meet her halfway and pull her into a hug. “Hey, you made it.”
She goes limp in my arms, leaning her head against my chest.
“So tired,” she mumbles as she pulls back.
“We don’t have to stay long. The birthday boy is one more shot away from passing out.” I slide a hand into the back pocket of her jeans and guide us back to the bar.
Nathan is propped up on a stool, eyes glazed and wearing a drunken smile. “Blair, you made it.”
He makes a move to get off the stool and stumbles, setting off a domino effect as he crashes into guys on the team, who in turn bump into the people around us.
Z helps a totally clueless Nathan back up onto the chair. “Don’t move,” he instructs.
Blair goes to Nathan and embraces him. “Happy birthday. Can I buy you a drink?”
He winks at me over her shoulder and sniffs her hair. Fucker is messing with me, but I’m not scared. He knows I’d kick his ass if he made a move on my girl. Still, I move closer just in case he decides to test me.
