Page 5 of Full Court Love
“Lucy’s pretty hot, huh?”
He smirks as he says it. It’s not a question—it’s a statement of indisputable fact. She’s crazy hot. I don’t know if it was the silent confidence as she splashed threes in my face, the long blonde hair and blue eyes, or the way her whole face lit up when she smiled–I can’t seem to think of anything else.
Once again, my inability to speak gives every emotion away. Tyler is quietly laughing and shaking his head.
“Many have tried, but none have succeeded. That one is a puzzle. Definitely not an easy girl to land. She’s a dope hang, though. And she’s an absolute baller–though I’m sure you discovered that for yourself today.”
He shrugs, then grabs his pizza from the microwave. I’m locked in, mentally logging all this new Lucy intel.
This girl’s not an open book–she’s a challenge. I don’t back down from a challenge. “Good to know. Thanks, man.”
Tyler nods. “What’re you doing when you’re done playing? You know, like when all of this is over.” I look at the floor. I can’t remember the last time someone asked me that.
“I’m a pre-law major, so…” No one knows that my dream is to go to law school, so it feels weird to reveal it to a guy I barely know. Everyone usually assumes I’m going to try to “go pro,” like every other college basketball player. Apparently Tyler can put the pieces together himself.
“So, law school?”
I shrug, like I haven’t thought much about it, when in factI have a binder with well-laid plans for achieving this goal. “Yeah, potentially.”
He looks impressed. “Good for you. Well, Lucy’s unquestionably going to the League, so good luck, dude.”
He pats my shoulder as he goes by.
“You know, you might need more than a little luck with that one. I’ll be sending prayers up, brother.”
I snag a Gatorade from the fridge and head to my room, mind buzzing. My space isn’t the most comfortable place to lounge–the room is empty, except for a mattress on the floor. I think of how embarrassing it would be to bring Lucy back here. I’m a guy with virtually nothing, and basketball is my ticket out. It’s my only way to escape the turmoil back home.
A girl like Lucy wouldn’t get within a stone’s throw of the guy who has been labeled a “team cancer.” Not that any of the toxic things I bring are necessarily my fault. When your dad barges into the locker room, drunk and belligerent, after games where he feels you didn’t score enough, the coach has to protect the team.
When my last coach asked me to leave, I couldn’t even blame him. I had been good all season but not good enough to make up for my dad’s looming presence. So, I left and went to the farthest-away school that would have me. I didn’t care that I would be living in Nowhere, Nebraska. Anywhere was better than staying where he could still hurt me and the people around me.
That’s one of many reasons why I should probably steer clear of Lucy. But “should” is the key word there. What I’m actually going to do is a totally different matter.
I lie down on my thrifted mattress, feeling various lumps digging into my back. It doesn’t bother me as much as it did last night. My thoughts are elsewhere, I guess.
I wonder where I could try to bump into Lucy tomorrow.
CHAPTER 3
LUCY
Istep into the arena Monday morning feeling queasy with nerves. The official start of the season is this week. That means stepping onto the court for the first time since that day. The day that everything my life had been building toward came crashing to the ground.
Should my life be fully reliant on a game? No. Is it the reason I needed therapy after I got hurt? Yes. Am I still way too physically, emotionally, and spiritually attached to basketball and my success in it? Absolutely.
I shiver as I continue toward our locker room, the colors of baby blue and white splashed all over the walls. A giant image of a lion looms over the gym door–I’ve never understood that choice of mascot. There are no lions in Nebraska. But no one asked my opinion and I can’t say it weighed into my choice of school, so I won’t make an official complaint. I chuckle to myself at the idea of caring about something as dumb as a mascot.
Speaking of dumb things occupying too much of my mental energy, I wonder if I’m ever going to run into the guy from the YMCA again. I was so flustered, I never even asked his name. He obviously got mine, even if it was against mywill. He claims he already knew it, so I guess I never even had control over that to begin with.
If I’m able to get back to the YMCA sometime soon, I’m definitely going to dress a little cuter. I frequently wear my oldest workout clothes there because I don’t need to impress, but now… well . . . I might decide I need to put on something more flattering. Maybe actually do my hair and throw on some mascara. Not that it’s just to impress a nameless interloper–it’s also so I feel more confident. In case he’s there. Okay, it’s definitely just for him.
I truly despise what I’m becoming.
This train of thought has distracted me enough that my body has taken over. I’m now sitting in front of my locker lacing up my shoes, and I certainly don’t remember ever starting that process. Luckily I’m the only one in the locker room, so I didn’t accidentally miss greeting any of my teammates while my mind was elsewhere.
Just as I regain my faculties, Jacey walks in. She’s six foot three inches and has two gorgeous black braids that almost reach her butt. She loves switching up her look and sometimes even lets me pick the colors she incorporates into her hair.
“What’s up, Lu? You getting ready for the contest?”