by E. M. Moore
We pull apart, breathing in one another’s air. “Touch me,” I plead.
His hazel eyes flare. His hands move up my back, under my bra strap and then down. His hands dip just under my waist band then curve around my front where he slips his hand under my shirt, flutters past my belly, and then teases my straining nipple right over my bra before cupping me. I breathe out hard. He reacts in kind. “I can’t wait to see these someday. To touch them and stroke them. Suck on them.”
I raise my hips toward his, loving the way his erection hits me. He pushes me against the car and then fumbles with the door handle before pushing me in. I’m half reclining, half out of the car. While he assesses us, I tear my shirt off. Sloan’s eyes go wide. I’ve switched out my sports bra to a regular satin one. His eyes dilate before he moves forward lips landing on the upper curve of my breast. A cry of pleasure escapes my lips. He moves lower and lower, pulling back the cup of my bra as he goes. His hands move under the waistband of the joggers I put on. They slip past my panties and stroke my center. “Oh, Sloan.” The heat gathering inside me rolls in like a thunderstorm. “Please,” I beg. All I know is that I want him everywhere on me. His lips surround my nipple. I buck and just like that, his fingers slip inside. “Sloan!”
We both still for a moment. His hot breath teases the wetness he left on my breast. “I need more of this,” Sloan groans. “So much more.”
His finger starts to move, and I match his strokes, lifting my hips into him until his lips surround my nipple again. His tongue darts out, playing with the hardened peak. I stare up at the ceiling of the car, letting him take me away. My doubt erases. The jeers of the crowd. It’s just Sloan and me until his thumb passes over my clit. “Fuck…yes,” I grind out.
I spasm over his finger, holding to me. When I finish, Sloan moans heavily, dropping his weight onto mine. “My God, Tessa. I don’t think I’m supposed to be feeling like this right now.” He pulls his finger out of me, arranges my joggers, but keeps his weight there, maneuvering his hips until his hard dick is pressed into my center. He slides forward, his breath choking him. Then, he drops his forehead to my chest before kissing my cleavage. He breathes out. “I need to stop. I’m not going to have sex with you in your car. At least not for the first time.”
I lift my hips, wondering what it will feel like with him.
He groans long and hard. “Don’t test me. I’m already going to have to spend some quality time with myself when I get home, thinking of you.”
“I can help,” I say, teasing.
He reaches up to kiss my cheek then steps back. When the weight of him is gone, the loneliness creeps back in. Leaning over me, he fixes my bra then finds my shirt on the floor of the car. He turns it right side in and then hands it to me. “Stay low. I don’t want anyone else to see you like that.”
I do as he says, keeping low while I pull my shirt on over my head, then sit up finally. He grabs my hands and pulls me out of the car and right into his arms. I hold on tight, pressing my fingers into his skin because I can’t get close enough.
“I think I already like you way more than my parents have ever liked one another,” he confesses.
I freeze. Just in that one sentence, there’s so much more said because it’s Sloan saying it. I swallow. “I really like you, too, Sloan Ivy.”
35
I throw myself on my bed. I bounce a couple times and then use my pillow to scream into it. Dramatic much? Probably, but I just had to show Mom what those bitches did to my car. She was horrified, then her eyes filled with tears that made me want to lose it. I can still hear her words in my head, This isn’t right, Tess. I know she thinks it’s dumb that I’m still even part of the team. She tells me I don’t have to make it to college on a scholarship. I can go to whatever college I want and tryout. A walk-on. I can. It’s an option, but I don’t want that. I want to get recruited, damnit. Just like my dad. Is that too fucking much to ask for?
My phone vibrates, so I pull it out, expecting a text. It’s not. It’s Alec calling me. I swipe the screen to answer, “Hey.”
“Baby, I’m so sorry. Sloan just told me what happened.”
I hear guys talking in the background. I pull up and then flip onto my back, staring at the ceiling. I don’t know what to even say. Thanks seems lame. Of course he’s sorry. He hates that this is happening to me. I can see it on his face in the games, but what is he going to do? If he flips his shit during the game, he’ll get thrown out. Everyone is stuck. “Yeah, well, what are we going to do?”
The phone gets staticky for a second and then Alec is somewhere quieter. “What did your mom say?”
“Not much,” I tell him. “She’s just…worried, I guess.”
“I am too,” he says. “Ryan can’t even wrangle them. It’s crazy.”
Suddenly, I hear another voice. “What the fuck are you doing, man?”
I cringe. It’s Lake, and I’m already having a terrible day.
Alec’s voice muffles. “I’m talking on the phone.”
“Seriously?” Lake asks. “You’re talking to Dale, aren’t you? What happened to no bitch time?”
I clench my teeth together to quit from telling Alec exactly what I think. No bitch time? Fuck him.
Alec gets back on the phone. “Hey, I got to go.”
My mouth drops. “Seriously?” Now I sound as petty as Lake. “Fine. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Sorry,” he says real quick, but then he hangs up. I think about throwing my phone across the room, but I don’t make it that far.
There’s another day, another game tomorrow. Who knows, maybe I’ll even play.
Alec makes it up to me the next day by visiting me in my locker room while we’re getting ready for the game. He kisses me until my head spins, and then escorts me into the boys’ locker room for the pre-game talk. Lake is glaring at me from the moment I walk in. He’s been doing that all day. Here, though, I’m silenced. I might as well be wearing a muzzle. I have to pretend that we’re just one happy team except there’s one person on this team I don’t trust for shit.
Coach goes through all his normal stuff. As the season progresses, my nerves have died down. Now that the end of the season is nearing, maybe I’ve just given up all hope of getting what I wanted out of this. With a loud clap, Coach Bradley stands. He turns toward me, a smile on his face. “You’re starting today, Dale. There’s a WNBA scout in the stands tonight. Good luck.”
Everyone turns to stare at me. My eyes go wide. I’m speechless. It isn’t until I hear Lake start to argue that I say, “Thanks, Coach.”
The rest of the team files out. It’s a home game, so the there’s the whole lasers and loud music for the starters. A smile parts my lips. And I’m one of them. Tonight will be the first time I get the Baller announcement. Holy shit.
“Come on, O’Brien,” Coach says, trying to get him out of the locker room.
The Ballers are all just standing there. They’re shocked as well. Hayes has moved almost imperceptibly closer to me. Why, I’m not sure. I’m not about to get upset. I’m thrilled.
“This is bullshit, Coach,” Lake snaps.
Coach Bradley’s eyebrows rise into his hair. “Don’t mouth me, O’Brien. You got ten suicides after the game. If you stop now, I’ll put you in later.” He turns toward me, nodding in my direction. “You should be happy for your teammate.”
“That’s my position,” Lake seethes.
“You can’t play in the WNBA,” Coach says. “Or is that your new goal?”
“It has nothing to do with that. She’s…a girl.”
Alec puts a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, man. You’re making this worse.”
Lake pushes him. “Fuck you. You all don’t care. You’re all fucking her. You’ve lost your minds.”
Hayes moves completely in front of me. For a man with few words, his actions speak volumes. Except, I don’t need a savior right now. I just need my moment. He can say whatever he wants, Coach has already made the call.
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br /> “I’m not listening to this,” Coach says. “I don’t care about your personal relationships. This is my call. It’s done. Get your ass out onto the court, O’Brien or I’ll suspend you.”
He still doesn’t move. The veins are bulging out of his arms.
“Come on,” Alec tries again. He moves forward again, but Lake pushes him once more. Alec careens back into the lockers. He hits hard but stands right back up. “What the fuck, man?”
“You’re picking her over me!” He glares at each one of his best friends, noticing how close Hayes is to me. “That’s it. We’re fucking done.” Lake grabs a towel off one of the benches and storms through the door. Hayes moves with him until he’s blocking me at all points.
Coach sighs. “Well, that went well.”
“Of course it didn’t,” Ryan snaps. “Lake’s the starter.”
It’s like Ryan just threw a knife in my chest. Coach isn’t playing that game though. He moves forward. “It’s my call, Linc. When you become Coach, you get to make the tough calls. Before then, shut your mouth.”
He grabs his clipboard and then uses his forearm to swing the door open. The world is pressing in on me. The tension around me is crazy. They’re all pissed Lake’s not starting. At the same time, I’m more ecstatic than I’ve ever been. Outside the doors, the music starts playing the song the Ballers agreed on before the season started. My heart lodges in my throat. There’s a WNBA scout in the freaking stands. Holy shit.
Hayes puts a hand on my shoulder. I look into his deep blue eyes. “You got this,” he says.
I bite down on my lip. Hayes “Ice Man” Irving is warming to me. I can tell. I smile up at him. He’s right. I just need to put all of what just happened out of my head and play the game I know I can.
When they call my name, I run out there and slap hands with everyone. It’s not exactly like what I envisioned. I don’t get the welcome all the other Ballers do. In fact, the loud jeers from the Baller Bitches are loud and clear over any applause I get. I look up to see my dad in the front row though. He’s clapping, a smile on his face. I’m so glad he’s here for this. I mouth to him, “Call Mom.” He points a little ways down the stands, and I see Mom jumping on her toes. I smile even wider. They’re both here for this. I swallow my excitement down and try to get in the game for the shootaround.
Before long, the referee blows his whistle and I’m the one standing on the court, chasing down rebounds, taking shots. I’m electric. I feel unstoppable, unbeatable. The guys and I are working in sync. There’s a little bit of crust around the edges because I’ve never played with them like this, but Ryan’s an astounding point guard. He knows what he’s doing, so when we break for halftime, we’re up by twenty points. Twenty freaking points. This is our best game all season.
I walk into the boys’ locker room a sweaty mess, figuring Coach is going to pull me now so Lake can go back out, but he doesn’t. He makes a big speech about us working together as a team and if we’re not all working as a team, he’ll make decisions to make sure we do. When we go back out, he tells me I’m still on the floor. He puts his hands on my shoulders. “You’re doing great, kid. I know this is nerve-wracking, just keep doing what you’re doing.”
When I make my way out there again, it’s more of the same. I have fifteen points, two rebounds, and three assists in the second half. Counting my stats is a habit I’m going to have to stop. The coaches keep track of all that, but I like to know for myself.
After I attempt my fourth three-pointer and get fouled, the opposing team’s big man follows me on my way to the foul line. One of their players says, “Sounds like you’re the school’s favorite player.”
I don’t even engage, but that doesn’t stop them from talking.
“Are you really a skank?” another asks, his brows furrowed.
I know they’re just pissed they’re getting their asses handed to them by a girl. The guy who’s guarding me is frustrated and his teammates are, in turn, getting frustrated with him.
The referee bounces the ball to me. I dribble three times and then jump for the shot. The ball goes in. I can hear my dad yell for me in the background. I try to tune him out. I shouldn’t be hearing what anyone is saying right now.
When I turn back toward the foul line to take the next shot, all the guys are staring into the stands. I follow their gazes even though I tell myself not to. I know it’s headed right where the Baller Bitches sit. When I see what’s gotten everyone’s attention, though, I freeze. Rhonda Kyle is wearing a crown with blue panties stretched over the top. The crown says Baller Skank. She’s loving all the attention she’s getting. She laughs and then steps out onto the court stairs. She takes the crown off her head and throws it. The crown hits the court and skids. As it gets closer, my heart stops. Those panties are mine. I blink, not believing what I’m seeing, but I’m not wrong. Those are the panties I left at Sloan’s house when his mom almost caught us on the air hockey table.
My gaze flicks to his. His mouth is wide open.
Rhonda puts her hand around her mouth, “You suck, Skank!”
The referee blows his whistle. He then walks up to Coach, pointing in the stands. The guys on the opposing team all laugh. The ref though, is furious. “It’s been like this every freaking game here. Is someone going to do something about these unruly kids?”
Coach’s jaw ticks. My dad comes up behind them, his face a mask of fury. I turn away. Oh, fuck.
When I turn, I stare right into Hayes Irving’s chest. “Don’t look,” he says. The other guys huddle around me now, but it doesn’t matter. I’m so attuned to what’s going on out there that I can’t stop from hearing anything. Rhonda’s getting kicked out as well as the other Baller Bitches. They’re allowed to say whatever they want, but throwing something onto the court in the middle of a game is a no-no.
Then, I hear one of the guys on the other team say, “Wait, is that her dad picking up the crown?” Then, he laughs hysterically.
I cringe and look up to find Sloan. He’s staring down at the court. Not one of the Ballers can meet my eyes except Ryan. His eyes are challenging. I stare right back at him. If he thinks I brought this on myself, he’s wrong.
Finally, the referee walks back onto the court and blows his whistle. The commotion is gone, but it’s still in my head. It’s with every thump of my heart. He throws the ball to me. I dribble three times and shoot. Miraculously, it goes in the basket, but that’s muscle memory. I’ve had this ingrained in me since I was a little girl.
However, I’m sure when my dad started teaching me how to play the game, he never imagined a moment like this.
36
Despite playing a decent second half, my first ever start will always be tainted by what happened. My parents meet me at the buzzer and want to take me straight home, but Coach orders everyone to the locker room. I trudge in, head low. Immediately, Coach throws his clipboard. It rips through the air and slams into the royal blue lockers. “I am absolutely disgusted! To those of you who are laughing, who think this is funny, shame on you. Do you even understand how bad we all looked out there? Not just Tessa. Not at all. If anything, she looked the most heroic out of the bunch.”
“It’s not our fault,” someone says. “We didn’t do it.”
I sit on a bench and lean my head back against the lockers. Hard footsteps sound. I peek over and find Coach in Gary’s face. “Didn’t do it? No, but I see you guys snickering. You think it’s all a fucking game. Have I not taught you anything about teamwork? You think I don’t know this shit happens to her at school, too? I have eyes and ears.”
“This wouldn’t even be happening if we didn’t let a girl on the team,” Lake says. He’s sitting lazily on the bench seat, his hair still perfect, his jersey dry.
“What we did, O’Brien, was allow a hell of a good shooting guard on the team. The end. Period.”
He bypasses that comment. “Doesn’t it matter that everyone else is laughing at us? That’s the embarrassing part.”
“Spoken like someone whose nose is broke because he didn’t start. Might I remind you that it was one fucking game.”
Coach turns away, but Lake whispers, “It’s still bullshit.”
Ryan stands. I watch, leery. His eyes land on every single one of us. “We played a good game. Teamwork needs a re-focus, but it was good.”
Really? Those are his words after the game. I shake my head and look away.
“I want everyone out of here except for Tessa,” Coach says.
“But what about—” someone starts to ask.
“Out!”
The guys gather their stuff and leave. Sloan won’t even meet my eye. I swallow. I don’t want to think he did this, but how did those Baller Bitches get my panties? Alec tries to catch my eye, but I’m too busy staring Sloan down that I don’t look. Ryan leaves the locker room with his head held high. Hayes lingers. It isn’t until Coach sits next to me that he leaves. After they’ve all gone, I drop my head in my hands. I refuse to cry. Despite what happened, it was a good night. Right?
“You played really well out there.”
I look up at him. Sweat drips from my face and onto my knees. “Did they ruin it for me?”
Coach shrugs. “I doubt a scout is going to give two shits whether you’re bullied or not.” We’re silent for a moment. I’m hoping he’s right, but it sounds like Coach isn’t done with the talk yet. “I do have to ask you though. Is this worth it? I feel like I need to apologize for starting you because of all the shit that happened, but at the same time, Tessa, you were really good. Lake should be thrilled he has someone of your caliber to challenge him and make each other better. I don’t get it.”
I get it. I get it all too much. “They’re the kings of RHS,” I tell him. “They don’t like being taken down a notch.”