At the Buzzer: A High School Bully Romance (The Ballers of Rockport High Book 3)

by E. M. Moore

  I swallow. That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking. I’ve been struggling with the idea that I didn’t want Lake to get hurt, but that I also don’t want to start calling him up on the phone to get updates about how he’s doing. I can’t forget what he’s done. I won’t. It’s a part of me. It’s made me who I am, and I love who I am right this minute. I’m stronger because of how awful he was to me. I know that I can be pushed to the breaking point and still come out the other side with a bigger heart and better attitude than I had in the beginning.

  I drop my head to the seat. “Yeah, Alec. I can’t forget. I won’t.”

  “No one’s asking you to.”

  I picture myself walking into that swanky rehab center, surrounded by a bunch of doctors. “I’m going to be pressured into forgiving him.”

  “Don’t. I don’t think you should.”

  “So, what if me not forgiving him keeps him there? Or worse, makes him use again?”

  “That’s not on you. That’s on him. He’s the only one who can control himself.”

  I try to look away, but Alec grabs my face. He moves closer until we’re nose to nose. “You do what you have to do.” With his gaze still on mine, he leans forward, capturing my lips in a kiss that stops my heart. A moan escapes my throat that makes me want to die of embarrassment immediately. I feel the heat of eyes on me and look over to find Sloan’s gaze intent on mine. He waggles his eyebrows, which ultimately makes me pull away from Alec.

  “Aw, don’t do that on my part. I enjoy the show.”

  I shake my head at him and look away as Alec entwines our fingers. I lean my head against the window and stare out at the scenery on our drive back into Rockport.

  Despite all this, we have a perfect season so far. Every game day, the Ballers and I pull our jerseys on. When we do, it’s like we’re pulling on a suit of armor. Nothing can touch us there except for basketball. We run, we shoot, we score. At the end of the game, we pull our jerseys off and slip into this new skin where much of what we thought was true is actually something completely different.

  I guess that’s part of growing up, realizing that the things you thought you knew aren’t real. And realizing there are things you take for granted whether you mean to or not.

  33

  Lake’s been wanting me to come see him at the rehab place. I heard it from my dad, and I heard it from the Ballers. I’ve been pushing it off until the weekend because I just didn’t want anything to interfere with basketball. I know that sounds petty, and I’m sure everyone saw through me, but if we have to do this, we should be doing it on my terms, right?

  The Ballers are taking me up in Ryan’s Jeep. Hayes has his strong hands around me in the backseat while my heart beats against my ribs with a resounding gong. To be face to face with my tormentor isn’t something I want, even now that he’s dropped to the lowest of lows.

  “You don’t have to do this,” Hayes says.

  He’s pretty much the only one who’s told me I don’t have to. I can tell the others want me to, and I can’t blame them either. Lake is their oldest friend. If anything, I’m doing this more for them than for Lake.

  Ryan pulls up in front of a remodeled historic home. There’s a sprawling green lawn with benches sparsed throughout. It looks more like a bed and breakfast than a rehab place.

  When we get inside, that’s where I recognize the clinical aspects. There’s a check-in window that we all need our licenses for. They print us out stickers to put on our shirts to identify us to personnel. They tell us Lake is in the rec area, so we follow the small signs that are almost inconspicuous unless you’re looking for them. When we get there, we look in to find a gym. It’s a rather large area with one half of it set up with a volleyball net. On the other half, there’s a hoop with only one person playing, and it just happens to be Lake. He dribbles at the top of the key before jumping to take a shot. It swooshes in. He runs forward, grabbing his own rebound only to throw the ball back up right away for a layup that rolls across the back of the backboard and then directly down through the net again.

  “We’ll be right here,” Ryan says.

  My eyes widen. “You guys aren’t coming in with me?”

  Sloan shakes his head. “Alone first, babe. If you need us, let us know.”

  I run my hands through my hair, then take a tentative step forward. If it weren’t for the fact that he’s playing basketball, I’m not sure I would’ve been able to make my feet work. But the ball takes an odd bounce off the rim and comes my way. On instinct, I move forward and grab it. When I look up, Lake has stopped. He blinks at me, then looks behind me before returning his gaze to me.

  He holds his hands out, so I toss him the ball. He grabs it, spins it on his finger, and then tucks it against his hip. “Are they right outside?”

  I shrug. “I think so.”

  He nods. “They’re never very far away from you, are they?”

  A creepy crawly sensation floods over my neck. I don’t know how to answer that.

  “It’s okay,” Lake says. “I’m happy for them.”

  My eyebrows shoot up at that. But then my brows pull together. I’m aware of what I must look like to him. I look like I don’t believe him because I don’t. Not at all.

  He chuckles softly. “I have news.”

  I shift on my feet. This is awkward as fuck and nothing is making it better. “Yeah?”

  “I told them I wanted to tell you.”

  My heart squeezes. Shit. This is about the paternity test. No, no. No, I’m not ready for this.

  “I—”

  “Lake, don’t,” I say, stepping forward, my hand outstretched. “I don’t want—”

  “Your dad’s not my dad.”

  I stop, my mouth still open from trying to talk over him, but as usual, Lake just moved on like I didn’t exist. But what he’s said…holy shit. “He’s not?”

  Lake shakes his head. He drops the ball and dribbles it a few times, then picks it back up again. “He’s not. Science proved it.” He glances up at me. “You’re happy about that?”

  Shame washes over me. My face gets red, but this doesn’t feel like the place for lies. It feels like it’s time for some hard truths. “Yes, I am.”

  He nods slowly. “I still don’t know what to think. I really thought he was my dad.” His voice gets caught, but then he clears his throat, ever charging forward. “I thought he was for so long. It made sense to me that he was. I’m good at basketball. Your dad’s obviously good at basketball. My dad doesn’t play sports. He’s like the last person in the world who would play sports. He’s the type that would own a sports team, run one even, but he wouldn’t be the one on the court, and that’s why I just thought your dad was.”

  I can’t tell from his voice if he’s sad about the fact that my dad isn’t his. I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. Holy shit. Relief sweeps through me. He’s not my brother. Thank fuck.

  It all makes sense then, why I was praying he wasn’t. Sure, it was about my dad, but it was also because I didn’t want to hate my brother. A brother. I always wanted a sibling, but my parents could barely have me.

  There it is in black and white in front of me like I should’ve known all along. I didn’t want Lake to be my brother because he’s the exact opposite of the person I pictured when I was a little kid. He’s a monster. A recovering monster, maybe. But he’s no Dale.

  I wipe my eyes. They burn, and I can feel them fill at the corners with unshed tears.

  Lake looks away. “You’re so happy I’m not related to you that you’re crying. I guess I can’t blame you. I’ve been…” He wavers.

  “A dick?”

  His jaw hardens. “Yeah, that. I’ve been an asshole. All for something that wasn’t even true.” He laughs, and a sliver of ice rolls down my spine. “It’s so stupid, isn’t it? I was such a dick because I thought you got everything that belonged to me, and it turns out that’s not even true.”

  “No, it’s not true,” I say, my voice hardening. �
��I deserve everything I have.”

  Lake scratches his jaw.

  “I’m a great basketball player. I’m friendly. I’m nice. I’ve worked for everything that I fucking have. Yes, I have my father, but I’m sure there are a bunch of athletes out there whose kids didn’t follow in their footsteps. It’s not like I got some magical gene because he’s my dad. I worked my ass off, just like you did.”

  His gaze snaps to mine. He doesn’t comment on that. He just says, “I hear you’re going to State next year.”

  “I am,” I say, thinking about the news I got that morning. The scout came to our game last week. The womens’ basketball coach called me this morning to officially tell me I’m getting a scholarship. A full scholarship.

  Ryan, Hayes, and Sloan also got their calls too. Alec is waiting on pins and needles.

  “You’re…” He clears his throat. “You know what’s fucking ridiculous is the fact that I still have a hard time admitting to myself that you’re good. You’re good, Tessa. Not that you need me to tell you that.”

  “I don’t,” I say automatically.

  “I know,” he growls. “I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me, okay? You’re fucking good. You’re as good as me if not better. You always have been.”

  My breath catches. Maybe I did need to hear him say that because right now, tears are spilling over. The last of the Ballers is telling me that I’m good. It’s like a piece of me fell into place inside. A piece of me that I didn’t even know was out of whack.

  Lake’s face is flushed. “Fuck. This is harder than I thought it was going to be.”

  “What? Being truthful?”

  He pins me with a hard gaze. “Maybe. I don’t know.” He steps forward. He drops the ball and it bounces away. “I didn’t actually mean to break your wrist at camp. I know that sounds like a crock of shit, but I didn’t. I wanted to hurt you in that moment, yes, but I didn’t think I’d break one of your bones.” He rubs the side of his head. “It’s probably the most fucked up thing I’ve ever done. It’s unforgivable. I…” He swallows. “I can’t tell you how relieved I was to hear that you made it into State despite what I did to you.”

  My head careens back. I feel like he’s just sucker punched me. “I don’t know if I believe that.”

  “You have every right not to. Fuck, I probably wouldn’t if I were you. I probably would’ve marched right in here and beat the shit out of me.” He points toward the gym door. “Hell, if I was one of them, I would’ve run right in here and beat the shit out of me for you. If anyone did that to them, I would kill them.” He shakes his head. “I can see bullshit in other people, but it’s hard to see it in myself.”

  “If it helps, if I wasn’t in the middle of the season and worried about my wrist, I probably would’ve thought about kicking your ass.”

  He grins at that. “Always so level-headed. You’re just like Ryan.”

  I smirk at that. There’s a lot of truth to that statement.

  It’s silent for a long time. Long enough to give me the creepy crawling feeling again. “Is that it then? Is that all you wanted to tell me? Do I need to sign off with your doctor’s that I’ve heard what you had to say?”

  He rubs the back of his neck. “No. I’ll have to talk about you in therapy again though.” He rolls his eyes. “There’s this girl in there who actually knows who you are. I guess she’s a basketball player, too, and her coach got video of you and showed it to her team. Did you know you’re up on YouTube? Some of your plays, I mean.”

  I actually did know that. Not that I’ve Googled my own name or anything. “Aren’t you guys up on YouTube?”

  “Well, yeah. We’re awesome.”

  My brows slam down over my forehead.

  He laughs. The sound rips through the gymnasium, bouncing off the walls. “Come on. That was funny.”

  “If being chauvinistic is funny, you’re a regular comedian.”

  “It’s a little funny.”

  I wrinkle my nose at him.

  “What?” he asks, his hands still splayed out over his stomach like he’s trying to contain his amusement.

  “You’re still an asshole.”

  This makes him laugh again. “What, you thought a bit of rehab would cure me of that? Sorry. That’s just me.”

  “Good to know.” I wait a beat. “My dad… Does he know about the DNA test?”

  Lake’s amusement falls away. He looks toward the corner of the gym. “Yeah, he knows.”

  “He would’ve done the right thing,” I tell Lake. I don’t know why. It’s not like I owe him anything. “He would’ve done whatever you needed.”

  “I know,” Lake says, finally turning toward me again. “A part of me wanted it to be him. You know, have the fancy basketball player father with all the connections. Kind of like what Ryan has right now.”

  “My dad will still help you.”

  He shakes his head. “He doesn’t have to. I have my own Dad now. It’s weird how I can feel two different things at once. I wanted my dad to be my dad, but I was also kind of hoping it was yours. When I found out my dad is my actual Dad, I was relieved and sad at the same time. It doesn’t make any sense. I guess I just wanted to be special for once.”

  “Having a famous dad doesn’t make you special, Lake. How many children’s names of celebrities do you know?”

  He looks up at me. “Just you.”

  My stomach tightens. There’s this weird mixture in his blue eyes. They’re not as blue as Hayes’s, but like a soft, summer day blue.

  He looks away. “Anyway, that’s it. I guess you’re free to go now, and you don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

  I snort. “Yeah? What makes you think I was worried about you before?”

  He turns around to grab the basketball. “I mean, you were a little worried…about basketball. About me being better than you.”

  I shake my head. “Never.”

  “Yeah?” He holds up the basketball, and I nod.

  When he throws it to me, I dribble a few times and then shoot. The ball goes in and almost inexplicably, ridiculously, Lake and I start playing basketball…together. There’s no competition. Okay, there’s a little.

  But there’s no fear that he’s going to break my wrist again.

  Okay. Maybe a little, but whatever else I’m feeling, this feels…like it should. Like two people who are really good at basketball that want to challenge one another. It’s exactly what should have been happening between Lake and I all along.

  34

  This year… Damn, this fucking year…

  Lake got out of rehab at the very end of the season. We’re not by any means close friends, but we’re also not enemies anymore either. I no longer watch my back around him. In fact, I think he’s kind of on my side, too.

  We’re all in the locker room at RHS, dressed in our Warrior jerseys. I’m staring around at the faces who’ve stared back at me this whole season. I feel comfort here. I feel freedom. I feel an excitement I never thought possible.

  Outside this room, the Timothy Dale Court is packed. It’s fucking Championships, baby. It’s what I’ve wanted since I dreamed of coming to this school. Since I dared fucking try out for the boys’ team. It’s finally here.

  Coach walks out of the locker room, taking the second and third string with him. Alec, who got a scholarship from State for baseball, blows me a kiss before leaving, jogging out to the middle of the frenzied court where everyone is chanting “RHS! RHS!”

  I know his whole family is in the stands tonight. His sister’s wearing my jersey, not his. I only picked on him a little for that. As far as Alec’s parents go, they couldn’t be more pleased that we’re together. They really are the most loving, down-to-earth family I’ve ever met.

  “This is it,” Ryan says.

  “Fuck yeah.” Lake looks around. His eyes are bright and shiny. Not from pills. Fuck that. He’s done with those, and he’s been better off ever since.

  “It’s our time,” Sloan smil
es. His eyes are dancing with fire tonight.

  Hayes, as usual, takes this all in, his head bobbing to what we’re saying. I know he’s wracked with nerves. If not for himself, then for me. He wants to give me everything I’ve ever wanted, and this is one of those things.

  “On three?” Ryan asks. “One, two…”

  “WARRIORS!”

  The DJ is rocking the house tonight. Our music comes on, and I can feel the bass in my bones. I can feel the beat in my blood. “Your starting Power Forward, Lake O’Brien!”

  “That’s me,” Lake says. He winks at me. I can’t help but smile as he twists on his heel and runs out of the locker room door like he’s been doing it the whole season.

  That kid is still a fucking asshole. He told me that day at his rehab center that he always would be. I don’t doubt him. I know it’s true. But, you know what? He’s also one hundred percent better than he was before. He’s not trying to fuck things up for me, so really, he had very little to improve to make me not hate him.

  Plus, I got my starting spot. I’m the Shooting Guard starter. I have been all year for every single game.

  Like all the games before this one, the DJ calls out, “Quintessa Dale!”

  I rise onto my tiptoes to give Hayes a kiss. It’s short and sweet, infused with feeling and purpose. Next, I turn to Sloan who takes his time, deepening the kiss we share until it’s almost inappropriate. I feel like every time he kisses me now, it’s a big F U to his parents. They really don’t like me, and Sloan really couldn’t give a fuck. If they had any other kids, I bet they’d disown him for going against their wishes, but they’re too proud for that. Someone has to carry on the Ivy name.

  I can feel the heavy beat of the crowd outside, watching for my entrance onto the court. Ryan doesn’t wait for Sloan to finish with me. He pulls at my jersey, yanking me away until he places a kiss on me that would’ve knocked me on my ass if he wasn’t holding me upright. Since we’ve come clean to our parents about our relationship, he pretty much does this whenever he feels like now.