Game On: A High School Bully Romance (The Ballers of Rockport High Book 1)

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Game On: A High School Bully Romance (The Ballers of Rockport High Book 1) Page 12

by E. M. Moore


  I sigh. “I’m not going to rat you out,” I tell him, realizing that just sounds fucking ridiculous. Rat him out when all he’s saying is that I’m not as bad as he thought I was. I should be insulted, yet, it’s coming off as a compliment.

  “If I were you,” he said. “I’d probably grovel and tell that guy you’re sorry, but that doesn’t mean he should come around when you’re at a Baller thing. I don’t think they let shit like that slide easily. You wouldn’t want him to ruin your chance.”

  I nod knowingly. When we fold all five chairs and push them to the edge, we both jump down. Alec backs up his old truck to hook up the flatbed as Matt grabs a couple chairs. Alec tells him to throw them in the back of the truck, so he does. Shawn and I grab the rest and put them in the back while Alec hooks the flatbed up to his truck. “Get in the front seat, Tessa,” Alec says, winching the fasteners. “Matt and Shawn, you guys can follow us to my house.”

  I look up at him. “My car is—”

  His gaze narrows. “I’ll take you back to your car, just get in the truck.”

  I swallow hard. Shawn gives me an apologetic look, but I do what Alec says. Who knows what kind of torture he wants to put me through on the way to his house so we can put the flatbed away?

  His passenger door creaks when I jump in. The interior has an old, used smell that isn’t unpleasant. It’s just not what I’m used to. A tree-shaped deodorizer hangs off the rearview mirror. When Alec gets in, it sways back and forth, giving off a lemon scent. I reach back to pull my seatbelt around me and have to try several times before I can get it latched, but at least when it’s in there, I’m not worried about it coming out easily. I’m more worried that I won’t be able to unlatch it when we get to his house.

  “Definitely not your Mustang,” Alec quips.

  I steel myself and take in a breath. I don’t even bother replying because nothing I say will probably make a difference.

  “You’ve probably never been in a work truck before, have you?”

  “No,” I reply simply. My dad had a truck-like vehicle once. It was an Escalade, but he traded it in for something else because he didn’t like it. My dad’s not me, though.

  He shakes his head and snickers. He looks out the side mirror and then slowly pulls away from where he’s parked in the lot. The cars that were in the lot are pretty much all gone. Even the rest of the Ballers aren’t around anymore. “My dad used to use it for work. I got it as a hand-me-down. Sorry if it offends you.”

  “Why would you think it would offend me?” I snap, my temper overflowing. I can’t even help it. I’m sick of people acting like those who are well-off are the devil incarnate. Besides, I’m not the one who’s rich. My dad is, and he fucking earned it.

  He looks over at me, his cheekbones sharp. “Because you’re used to shiny, new things. I didn’t know I needed to spell it out for you. You don’t think I saw your new Mustang. Or the cars your dad drives to camp?”

  I just shake my head. There’s no point in even arguing with him.

  “What?” he asks. He keeps looking over at me from the driver’s side. “You don’t agree that you wouldn’t be caught dead in a truck like this?”

  “Seriously?” I ask, glaring over at him. “I’m in your truck now, aren’t I? I might even be having a good time if you weren’t such a dick.” I groan in frustration. “What does it matter what car anyone drives, anyway? My dad is the rich one. My dad buys himself the nice vehicles because he put in the hard work to get there. And yes, my dad bought me a Mustang. It’s not mine. And don’t act like you wouldn’t want the cars he has. Isn’t that why you work so hard in the different sports you play? So you can have better? Otherwise, you’d be fine with being mediocre.” I sit back in the seat, crossing my arms over my chest. “Why am I a bad person just because I have a nice car? Prejudice can go the other way, too.”

  After a moment, Alec sighs. He runs a hand through his dark hair. When I look over at him, I notice he’s actually too big for the seat. His head almost touches the top of the old truck. The space makes him look bigger than he actually is. “I actually just want to play,” he says. “I love the games. I don’t need to be rich. That’s Ryan’s thing. Sloan’s, too. I just want to do what I love every day.”

  I raise my eyebrows at the change in his voice. He’s actually talking to me like…a person. It’s been a long time since one of the Ballers actually talked to me normally.

  I think back on my childhood growing up. Though my dad has all the finer things in life, he truly loves the game, too. Just like me. I don’t think you can choose either or when it comes to basketball. Raw talent will only take you so far. You have to love the game, too. I reach out and play my finger over the dark blue dash. “I’m not going to lie, having nice things is…well, nice, but it’s not everything.”

  “My dad actually likes his job,” Alec says. He keeps one hand on the wheel and leans the other on the door to support his head. His dad’s a general contractor. From what I hear, he’s a really good one. My dad has had him do some things around our house, and he’s always been so pleasant to me. “It’s not glamorous job,” Alec continues, “But he comes home happy every day.”

  I smile at that. I can say the same for my dad. Sure, he had bad games. He even had bad seasons, but he was still doing what he loved to do. “Sloan asked me the other day what I was doing here at Rockport…” I start, still second-guessing whether I should open up to him. Eventually, the bottom will fall out, and I’ll be the only one who’s hurt. But for right now, I’m going to risk it just to hear Alec’s personal thoughts. “This is it,” I smile and open my arms. “I’m here to play basketball because I love it.” I look over at him. His face is pulled taut as he stares out the windshield. “They got rid of the girls’ team at Broadwell,” I confess, letting my sadness seep through for the first time in a month. I sigh. “Because they’re a private school and can make up their own rules, they wouldn’t let a girl play on the guys’ team. Rockport was my only shot.”

  My words hang in the air. If Alec is surprised at what I said, he doesn’t let it show. He doesn’t make a smart ass comment back either, though. In some small way, I think we both understand one another better now.

  On the other hand, I’m an idiot. He’s a Baller, and they do what they want. To Alec, I should just be a PT because I massaged some guy’s leg.

  We don’t talk anymore as Alec drives to his house just on the outskirts of town. It’s a sprawling farmhouse with a lot of adjoining land even though there’s not a farm animal or tractor in sight. The house is older, but it’s been remodeled on the outside. Several areas of the house don’t match other areas like they’ve expanded it or completely re-did it. Wood siding graces one half of the house, and then on what looks to be an addition is cedar siding. It’s pretty in its haphazard way.

  He pulls around the circular driveway, but then aims the flatbed toward the mouth of a barn and then starts backing up. “Do you want me to get out and help lead you?”

  Alec puts his arm on the back of the seat then looks over his shoulder with a smirk. “I’ve been doing this since I was little. I think I’ll be okay.”

  He does, too. He just backs right up and stops. When he takes his hand away from the back of the seat, his fingers brush my shoulder. A current of nerves sweeps through me, proving once again that I’m not immune to the Ballers even though I should be. I look up at Alec to find he’s also staring back at me, his face almost pinched as he looks me over.

  “Alec!” a little girl’s voice screams.

  Alec immediately turns toward the front windshield. He whips his car door open just as a small silver Toyota pulls into the driveway. A little girl runs across the grass and jumps into Alec’s waiting arms. It’s honestly one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen.

  I get out and meet Shawn and Matt just in front of their car as Alec sets his sister back down in the grass again. When she turns toward us, her mouth drops open. “I know who you are.”

&nbs
p; I look from the other guys then back to her.

  “You,” she says, pointing at me. “You’re Timothy Dale’s daughter.”

  I smile wide as a flurry of pride skirts over me. I go up to her and hold my hand out. “I’m Tessa.”

  “Roberta,” she says. She takes my hand and gives it a small, but determined, shake.

  I look over at Alec who’s staring at us with a mixed expression. “I have to go help your brother now, but it was nice to meet you.”

  Alec tells Roberta to go back inside while they deal with the flatbed. She runs back, her cute, curly hair almost jumping off her head as she goes. Alec unhooks the flatbed from the back of the truck and then it’s mine, Shawn, and Matt’s turn to move it into a side room in the barn. Alec acts like he’s going to stand back and watch at first, but then he jumps in after he notices Matt struggling. I’m not going to lie, I’m struggling too. The foundation of the barn is uneven, so it’s a lot harder getting the thing to move here than it was out on the street. After a few minutes, we get it into place. Alec stands, a line of sweat has made a damp trail down the back of his shirt. If Dawn could see him now. But actually, that’s not right. Dawn wouldn’t care. She’s into David now, and better yet, David’s into her. She’s probably making him feel all better after their loss today.

  “Anything else?” Shawn asks, his hands on his hips.

  Alec shakes his head. “No, that’s it. Just, um, be waiting if you get a text from us.” Though there’s instructions in that sentence, they’re half-hearted at best.

  Shawn and Matt turn to go toward Shawn’s car. I’m standing just a few feet away from Alec looking back and forth between the two. I don’t know whether I should ask Shawn to give me a ride back to my car or not. I doubt Alec really wants to take me. I still don’t understand why he wanted to bring me here in the first place.

  Shawn turns around when he opens his car door. “You want a ride, Tessa?”

  “Oh, I—”

  “I’ll take her back,” Alec says.

  I peek at him, but he’s just standing there nonchalantly.

  At least, he is until Shawn doesn’t leave right away. When they don’t make a move to leave, Alec’s hands turn to fists at his side. “I said I got her, Recruit. Do you understand?”

  Shawn gives him a small salute and gets in the car, Matt trailing after him. I watch them back out, thinking I should have just gone with them now that Alec seems pissed off. Alec goes toward the driver’s side door, so I quickly scoot around the truck and hop in as he’s slamming his door shut. He rolls the windows all the way down as he takes a left out of his driveway. He grumbles to himself for the first few miles. His voice is so low, I can’t hear what he says. Eventually, his temper evens out.

  It’s interesting seeing one of the Ballers like this. I feel like I know him better now that I’ve seen him with his sister and at home. I’ve seen his parents before at games and at camp when they pick him up, but this seems more intimate. The only ever Baller I’ve been alone with before is Ryan.

  “Who was the guy at the football game?” Alec asks, interrupting my thoughts.

  I look over at him, but he seems pretty neutral about the whole thing. “Chase,” I tell him. “Chase Fisher. I guess he’s Christie Fisher’s brother.” I stare out the windshield, watching the country landscape go by.

  “Are you dating him?”

  My stomach twists. “No,” I say right away. “I just met him. At the dance.”

  Alec looks away out his side window as soon as I mention the dance. His jaw locks tight, but he swipes his hand over it to cover it up. “You did good at the practice after the dance.”

  I can’t quite figure out the tone in his voice, but he seems almost surprised. Or like he has to tell me that for some reason. “Yeah? That’s what years of putting in hard work gets you, I guess. You should know since we’ve gone to basketball camp together for the last few years.”

  “Yeah, well, I guess I wasn’t paying attention.”

  I want to scream. It won’t do any good, so instead, I bury it down. It’s just like them to act like no one else at camp was any good, even though we all know my dad only brings the best of the best.

  I’ve already looked away, intent on just keeping to myself until we get to my car, but Alec says, “For the record, I thought showing that picture of you at the dance was out of line.”

  I feel like we just crashed his truck. We didn’t. It’s still rolling down the road, but my brain has crashed and keeps repeating what he just said. I dig my nails into the truck door. “If you thought that was out of line, you should’ve been there when he did it to me.”

  The emotions from that night overwhelm me again. The fact that Lake and his brother held me down, taking away my safe space and my freewill.

  “I don’t know what to say,” Alec says. His voice is hard, like he’s sorry he even brought it up.

  Why did he even bring it up? Just because he thought it was out of line doesn’t mean anything. He still went along with it. “Just stop fucking talking about it,” I snap.

  His fingers curl around the steering wheel. We’re back in town, and we’re almost to the school. Thank God. I want to get the hell out of this truck with Alec and his freaking Baller high horse attitude.

  “I parked down the next street. Two blocks up.”

  As soon as he pulls to a stop across the road from my car, I throw the door open and slam it behind me. I take a second to look both ways before I’m already running toward my car. A door slams behind me. “God damnit.” My fingers fumble for my keys in my pocket. By the time I get them out, it’s too late, Alec’s hand is on my shoulder. “Tessa, please.”

  I whirl on him. “Why do you care?”

  The look in his eyes almost makes me stop. Almost.

  “This is what you guys wanted, right? Well, congratulations, but I’m still not giving up. You can tell your fucked-up friends that, too. If they expect me to go cowering back to Broadwell, they’re mistaken.”

  I go to open the door, but Alec’s hand shoots out and stops it. “I don’t want that.” His voice is so low I barely make out what he says. “I’m trying to give you a…” He trails off. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. I look over my shoulder and see the indecision in his eyes.

  “Don’t bother. I don’t want whatever it is, and I don’t need it.”

  “Don’t pretend it doesn’t bother you,” he says, his voice hard.

  “Why? So you can tell the rest of the Ballers that you broke me? No thanks.”

  “I’m not telling them shit.”

  I lean my head against the car. My body and my mind are warring with one another. My mind is telling me that Alec’s an asshole, and that he doesn’t mean a damn word he’s saying. On the other hand, I see the way he looked at his sister and how he tried to apologize to me even though he’s doing a piss poor job of it. I stand up straight, turn, and lean back against my car. “I don’t want to talk about what you guys did to me. Is that fair enough?” My voice is wavering, but I’m trying to keep it under control. “I’ll talk about trials stuff, I’ll talk about basketball, hell, I’ll even talk about personal stuff, but let’s not talk about the other.”

  He nods slowly, his green eyes latched onto mine. I have no idea why I’m even giving into him this easily. Just call me a Baller chick, one of the girls who hangs off them all day like it’s their job. Their confidence is attractive. What’s even more attractive is when a guy like Alec Christopoulos is trying to apologize to me for something he didn’t do. Am I crazy?

  We both just stand there awkwardly. I don’t know what we’re doing here. I just know that he’s not bullying me, and I like being around the Alec who I can talk about basketball with. I suck in a breath and hold it. “Do you maybe want to drive my car?”

  His eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”

  Under his brows, his eyes are a striking green in that moment. I hug my hands to myself. “If you want. I’m not trying to throw it in your face or anyt
hing, it’s just…” I shrug. “Fun to drive.”

  Without second guessing, I hand the keys out and he takes them. I move around to the passenger seat and get in while he adjusts the seat and mirrors.

  “Don’t crash it. My dad will kill me. I don’t think he’ll care if I even tell him a Baller did it.”

  Alec smirks. “I don’t plan on crashing it, but good to know that my basketball skills will only get me so far in life.”

  He starts it up and grins as it purrs loudly underneath him like a caged tiger. “If you push the button to your left, the top will fold back.”

  Alec pushes it and then watches as the soft top recedes and folds, letting in the sunshine and the fresh air. “This is pretty cool,” he says.

  He pulls out onto the street, driving carefully at first. But when we head out onto the highway, he opens up the gas a little. Not enough to scare me, and not even more than what I did when I first got it, just enough to enjoy it.

  “Is it true you have a full-size basketball court at your house?”

  I nod. “Yeah, it’s pretty amazing. Not going to lie.”

  He looks over at me, his dark hair blowing in the wind. “It’s got to be amazing. Think of all the practice you could get in.”

  I nod slowly, my eyebrows practically in my hair. He starts to laugh, hopefully getting what I’m trying to say without saying it. I have practiced a lot. None of them should be surprised that I’m as good as I am. “Do you want to see it?”

  “Really?” His lips pull back, but then his face drops. “Maybe some other time.”

  Crash and burn. I turn toward the front of the car. “Yeah. Sure.”

  Alec turns down the next street before going around a huge country block to come back out on the highway we were on and heading back toward town. A few seconds later, he grabs the pocket of his pants. “Shit.” He pulls over on the side of the road. Dust billows in the air. He leans away to grab his cell phone out of his pocket. He glances over at me, his eyes serious again. He puts the phone to his ear. “What’s up?” He looks over at me and slinks into the corner of the car like he’s trying to get as far away from me as possible. “Yeah, I can come over. Give me a few.” He hangs up the phone and puts it back before pulling back out onto the road. My heart hammers away in my chest. I don’t know why, but I picture the girl who had her head on his shoulder. It’s dumb. I don’t know why the Ballers have this effect on me. It isn’t just me either, though. So, at least I can say that. “It rides really nice,” he says as we roll back into Rockport.

 

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