Me: Promise?
I’m goading him, which isn’t really fair because it isn’t like there’s going to be time for that today, but I just can’t help it. Flirting with him is fun.
Joel: Can we hang out after the game?
I’m about to remind him I’ll have Christian when he sends another.
Joel: I’d like to take you and Christian out for pizza after the game since I ruined your game day ritual.
Me: That sounds nice.
And it does. Way, way too nice.
Me: Good luck today. Break a leg or whatever the appropriate sentiment is.
Joel: I can think of all kinds of sentiments I’d like from you.
Jesus, how does he make everything sound so dirty?
Thirty minutes before the game, Christian and I make our way to our seats in Ray Fieldhouse. I had to hand off our tickets to an usher because my hands were shaking so badly I couldn’t read the seat numbers. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. I’m regretting wearing his shirt though. I’m one of about fifty other girls I’ve already spied wearing the same one. I’d felt special as I pulled it over my head and now I just feel like one of many in the Joel Moreno fan club.
“Seats one and two.” The woman hands me the tickets as she stands at the bottom row and motions toward our seats.
I take the tickets and verify she’s not insane. I’d expected seats in the student section, not first row behind the team’s bench. This is too much. Christian is oblivious, of course, and his excitement puts me more at ease as he jumps up and down with the ridiculous cut-out of Joel’s face on a stick. Christian waves it around and points to the floor where Valley is warming up. “There he is!”
Joel waves and dribbles the ball over our direction.
“You guys made it,” he says, looking from me to Christian.
“These seats are…” I shake my head. “Ridiculous.”
“Wanted to make sure you got a good, up close and personal view of how amazing I am.” He winks and I can’t help but laugh.
“You want to come meet Ray Roadrunner?”
Christian’s face lights up. “Can I, Mom?”
How can I possibly say no to that?
“Yes, but please be careful with him?” I plead with Joel, not caring in the least if I sound overprotective.
Christian rushes to the court and Joel bends down next to my son, hands him the basketball he’d just been dribbling, and they exchange a few words back and forth. My heart hammers in my chest as I watch them so easily interact. I take my seat, sitting forward so I can watch Christian as he crosses the court. Ray Roadrunner is standing on the sidelines next to the cheerleaders, and Joel leads him over and the mascot raises his hand for a high five which Christian slaps, and then Ray feigns like Christian has hurt his hand.
Next, Joel takes him around to the guys and each one gives him a fist bump. Christian’s smile couldn’t get any bigger. And then just when I think they’re about to head back my way, Joel picks Christian up like he weighs nothing and places him on his shoulders. The team clears the way and Joel steps to the basket and encourages Christian to shoot. The ball goes up and in and the team cheers. So does the crowd. I look up to see Christian and Joel being displayed on the jumbotrons for all the fans to see.
Christian is beaming when he turns in my direction to make sure I saw. I clap from my seat and can’t help but laugh at how happy he is out there. It’s a universal truth that the way to a woman’s heart is through her kids. My chest is rising and falling rapidly, betraying any chill feelings I might want to display as Joel brings Christian back to our seats.
“Mom, did you see that?”
“Yes!” I hug him against me. “That was amazing, buddy.”
Looking up to Joel, I smile. I expect him to be regarding me with a smirk and maybe a parting jab, but the expression on his face as he watches me and Christian is soft and sincere. As I prompt Christian to tell Joel thank you, and do the same myself, Joel simply nods and steps away to rejoin his team.
Joel was right, there’s nothing like being in Ray Fieldhouse on game day. Since it’s the last home game, the senior players are brought out to a lot of applause. When Wes is introduced, the place gets to their feet to honor Blair’s boyfriend who was injured earlier in the season. I look around for her and spot her in the student section jumping up and down wildly.
Much to my surprise and happiness, Christian stays glued to the action for the first half. He cheers especially loud for Joel and waves his foam finger and Joel cutout high in the air. When the buzzer signals halftime, we stand.
“Want to grab some popcorn?” I ask him and he answers by darting to the aisle. Grabbing on to his hand, I feel eyes on me and look up to see Isa smiling at us.
I wave and let my gaze flit over the rest of the aisle where Joel’s entire family sits. Kill me now. They’ve been sitting within spitting distance the entire first half without my realizing it. Joel’s father is talking with someone I don’t recognize, but Isa moves to the end of the aisle as we approach.
“Katrina, this must be your son.”
I tug on Christian’s hand. “Christian this is Joel’s mother, Mrs. Moreno.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she says to him and then smiles back at me. “I was thinking about you earlier this week. How’s the play coming along?”
Christian pulls on my hand, bored by the adult conversation.
“Good. Thank you again for answering my questions.”
“Maybe you’ll come back to the house for Sunday lunch again?” she asks, and I get the distinct feeling her motives are self-serving and that Joel would probably freak if he knew his mom was inviting girls over. “And you could bring Christian, of course.”
I let Christian pull me with him. “Oh, thank you. We’ll think about it.”
We get in line at the concession and I text Blair as we wait.
Me: I’m at the game. I saw you jumping up and down for your man.
Blair: Where are you sitting? Are you coming to The White House for the after-game party? Should be a lot of people to help celebrate Zeke and Wes’ last home game.
A pang of disappointment hits me that I can’t go and then guilt. Did Joel know about the party before he made plans with me and Christian? I can’t imagine he’d want to miss a party in honor of two of his roommates.
Me: No, Christian’s with me. We’re sitting behind the team.
Blair: Let’s catch up sometime this week. I want details about whatever is going on with you and Joel!
Me: I’ll text you this week.
I tuck my phone away, promising myself I will text Blair this week. I’ve done a shitty job of making connections with people, using Christian as an excuse. If I’ve learned nothing else from spending time with Joel, it’s that I need to put myself out there more. I’ve fooled myself into thinking it was best for Christian, but as I look at the huge grin on his face today, I know that it was about protecting me and not him.
24
Joel
Typically after a game, we make our way straight to the locker room, but since it’s the last home game, we linger on the court letting the seniors soak up the moment. I try and do the same just in case. I don’t really think I can give up another year of this, but if the right opportunity landed in my lap… well, I don’t know what I’d do.
Z and Wes hug at half court. It’s a bittersweet moment for them as seniors and because of all the shit Wes has been through this year.
Nathan bumps my shoulder. “Ready to party?”
“Yeah, gotta do some stuff first.” I nod toward the section my parents sit and I know he assumes I mean hang out with the family. I don’t bother correcting him. “I’ll see you at the house later. Try to keep things under control.”
I glance over at the sidelines looking for Katrina and Christian to let them know I’m gonna shower before we head out, but they’re nowhere in sight. My family hovers on the sidelines, Dad talking to the athletic director and my mom
watching me.
“Hey, Ma. Seen Katrina? I was supposed to meet her after the game.”
Her brow furrows. “She said goodbye and headed up the stairs. Maybe she thought—”
But I don’t stick around to hear the end of that sentence.
“I’ll call you later,” I call over my shoulder and take the stairs up out toward the exits as fast as the crowd will allow. My back is patted, and people call out to me. I mumble my thanks and keep going with a singular focus. I run a circle around the top level, but they’re nowhere in sight. I finally give up and head down to the locker room where I can grab my phone and text her, but there’s one already waiting for me.
Kitty: Congratulations on the game! Christian had a blast, thank you so much! We need to take a raincheck on this afternoon, but I’ll text you later.
Well fuck, I got blown off. That fucking stings.
I’m still pissy as I pull into the garage. Music is blasting and it annoys me for no good reason. My head is all messed up and I feel like an idiot for thinking I could convince Katrina to let me in with floor level tickets and some shitty Valley merchandise.
Nathan is in the kitchen when I walk through and takes one look at me and passes me the unopened bottle of Jack.
“Thanks. Seen Z?”
I missed him after the game and want to make sure I talk to him before I get too deep into this bottle.
“No, but I’ve got a pretty good idea.”
I nod and take the bottle with me upstairs. Z’s door is shut, but I can hear the faint sound of music coming from inside. I knock. “Z?”
“Come in.”
I open the door and find Z lying back on his bed, shooting a basketball in the air. “Missing the party downstairs.”
He doesn’t smile at my joke, which it obviously is because Z misses nearly every party.
He glances at me before he sends the ball sailing back in the air. “What are you doing up here?”
“You got Sara Icoa’s number?”
He stops and sits up. “Are you thinking of entering the draft?”
I unscrew the top of the bottle and take a swig before answering. “I don’t know, but Coach thinks I should keep my options open and the way next year is looking it might be best.”
“I thought you wanted to finish your degree?”
I lift one shoulder. “A degree isn’t really necessary for what I want to do.”
Play pro ball and then be a broadcaster. The degree is important for my parents and there is something special in being a second-generation graduate from the college my dad helped build.
He grabs his phone. “I’ll text you Sara’s number, but I’m meeting up with her next week if you want to tag along. I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to answer whatever questions you have.”
“Cool. Thanks.” I feel the vibration of my phone in my pocket and resist looking at it. It’s been going off every few minutes. I’m sure my absence downstairs has been noticed because I’m never not in the center of a party at The White House.
I don’t make any move to leave and Z lifts a brow. “Any particular reason you’re up here asking me about this now instead of getting lit and making out with half of the women’s tennis team?”
I chuckle. It was the women’s beach volleyball team and it was one blurry night that I don’t even remember.
“Ever feel like you’re not the person everyone thinks you are?”
He regards me seriously. “Every day.”
I don’t know why Z keeps to himself the way he does. I’ve never pressed him on it. Guess I assumed it was his way of keeping his focus on ball and his goals, but now I wonder if it’s something else entirely that keeps him up here while the rest of us are enjoying our thirty seconds of fame.
“Only a few months left, might want to consider sucking it up and enjoying what’s left of college.”
He shakes his head. “I’d rather stay up here.”
“Suit yourself.”
I leave Z to do whatever it is he does locked away in his room and I head down to the party.
Downstairs, Blair spots me from across the room and dashes away from Wes toward me. “I heard Katrina and Christian were at the game.” Her voice goes up ten octaves as she talks animatedly with both hands. “Can I assume that was your doing?”
When I nod, Blair’s smile is nuclear.
“I think I underestimated you, but I’m a little disappointed you’re here when you know there’s no way she can bring Christian to this sort of thing.”
“Yeah, well it doesn’t matter.”
She crosses her arms as clear a sign as any that she’s not budging until I fill her in.
I take another drink. Liquid courage. I’ve caught feelings and this sucks.
“We were supposed to go out after the game, but she canceled via text.”
“And she didn’t say why?”
“Nope.”
“Did you ask?” Blair presses.
I shake my head and she lets out an exasperated sigh that somehow still sounds chipper and upbeat. “There are a million totally legit reasons why she might have bailed. Instead of sulking around here getting wasted, why don’t you ask her? Better yet, go over there and talk to her in person.”
The fact that Blair is trying to get me and Katrina together makes me chuckle. “What happened to me not being good enough for your friends?”
“Oh, you’re still not anywhere good enough for her, but I’m really enjoying watching you fall all over yourself trying.”
I glare, but she just flashes a sweet smile. “If you’re not willing to risk it all, then you don’t want it bad enough.”
Cock an eyebrow and take another generous swig from the bottle.
That doesn’t deter Blair from continuing to speak her peace. “When’s the last time you gave anything but basketball your A-game?”
“I don’t know.”
Lie. I remember. And it’s exactly why I’m pissed I put myself in this position twice.
25
Joel
December, Senior Year of High School
The pep band is playing, and my team is already out on the floor warming up.
“Listen, Polly, I gotta get out there, but we’ll talk about it after the game.”
It’s the final night of the Valley High winter basketball tournament. Winning this tournament is all that should be on my mind, but my girlfriend has other priorities.
“But the formal is next Friday, and we have to get a limo.”
“We can talk about it—”
Two steps toward the court and she cuts me off, crossing her arms as her green eyes take on a golden tint. “Do you not care about formal? Or me?”
Polly is beautiful and outspoken and used to getting her way. I admired those qualities in her a year ago, but lately, it feels like it’s at the expense of me and my goals. Or maybe she’s right and I’ve just stopped caring. I’m five months away from graduation and with the colleges scouting me I’m guaranteed to end up playing somewhere awesome. It’s hard to care about formals and limos when I’m about to be a college ball player. One step closer to my dreams of the NBA.
But I do care about Polly.
“I love you and I will make sure it’s everything you want, but right now I gotta win a championship game, babydoll.” I brush a kiss on her pouty lips and haul ass to the court.
We win the game and the mood in the locker room is light. Guys joking around, dancing, and enjoying this moment with the team. Someone has turned on an old school Jock Jams playlist and I sing along to “Crazy Train,” air guitaring when appropriate.
I’m walking on cloud fucking nine until I step out of the locker room. Polly waits for me and the pinched expression tells me that she’s not impressed by the thirty points I racked up on the court. Still, I go for playful when I fall in beside her and drape an arm around stiff shoulders.
“Hey, beautiful. The team is heading for pizza to celebrate. You wanna ride over with me?”
&nb
sp; “Ugh. Not pizza again. I thought we could go somewhere nice. Just the two of us. Didn’t your cousins just open a nice restaurant? Let’s go there.”
Her sentiments aren’t totally unjustified. Pizza is the go-to after a win, but even with four years of post-victory pizza binges, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
“Come on.” I link our hands together and try to do my best to look charming. Normally an easy feat, but Polly’s hard features don’t soften under my puppy dog eyes. “We can make winter formal plans after we eat.”
The tiniest crack of a smile pulls her full lips apart and tip upward.
Valley High basketball players, their families, and girlfriends take up most of the small pizza joint. My parents and sisters are here and that’s where I lead Polly.
“Congratulations,” my mother says when we approach.
I barely manage to thank her before Michelle jumps up and throws her arms around my neck. Polly drops my hand and steps aside while my youngest sister squeezes in excitement. “You were amazing!”
“Thanks, Smelly.” I use her nickname and tug on the end of her ponytail. She pulls back and retreats to her seat and I turn to Polly who’s vanished. I spot her with some of the other basketball guys’ girlfriends, huddled around talking about who knows what.
I go ahead and take a seat with my family. The pepperoni pizza in the middle of the table is nearly gone so I know they’ll be heading out soon. Grab a slice and take a huge bite while simultaneously listening to my sister fill me in on the game like I wasn’t there. She’s almost as big a ball fan as I am. Though, she prefers the sidelines to playing. Something about too much running and sweat for her liking.
The Fadeaway: A Smart Jocks Novel Page 14