Page 52 of Full Court Love
Every time I got a question right, she’d make a comment. Some of my favorites were, “I mean, you’re a genius. That’s all there is to it.” Or, as she threw the cards in the air, “You’re basically Elle Woods. We don’t need these anymore.”
Lucy instills courage in me to take on something I genuinely hadn’t ever dreamed of doing before. Me being a lawyer felt like a long shot until she came along. Once the seed was planted that this is a totally realistic option for me, I couldn’t let go of it.
Guys are starting to trickle into the locker room as I pull on my jersey. It’s a harsh reality check. I was daydreaming about Lucy and all the possibilities while my father is somewhere in this arena right now, ready to watch me play in person for the first time in a long time.
Even though it’s early, I know for a fact that he’s already here because his pregame ritual involves multiple alcoholic drinks. While I stretch and shoot, he pours and chugs. I just hope I can tune him out. He won’t be in his seat until right before game time, though, so at least warmups will be peaceful.
I jog out to the floor and scan the crowd for Lucy. She’susually here early because she’s a nerd for the game and likes to watch warmups. She says she wants to know who’s shooting well, who seems nervous, and who’s secretly injured. Apparently, it helps her analyze the game better.
I find her halfway up the row of seats behind our bench, and her smile sends a jolt of warmth through my body. She gives me a thumbs-up, then stands and points at the number on her chest.
It’s #10.
My number.
She got hold of one of my practice jerseys and is wearing it for our game.
Lucy Townes is wearing my jersey.
Seeing that confirms one thing: I definitely love this girl. I love her heart and her beauty and her quirks and everything that makes her amazing.
I want to tell her tonight, even if she doesn’t feel the same way yet. I need her to know.
I start shooting and hit a rhythm. This is a big game, and I need to be locked in. As long as I stay centered and at peace, I’ve got this.
We go through warmups, the anthem, and starting lineups. That’s when my nerves get the worst. But when the ball is tipped, it all melts away. No dad issues, no sponsorships, no pressure.
Just basketball.
And I am balling tonight.
We’re up at half, and most of it is thanks to my twenty-point first half. But as we run out to start the second, I hear a familiar voice call my name. I don’t want to react, yet I can’t help myself. I glance up, and right behind our bench are my parents.
My mom smiles, her hair a little grayer than the last time I saw her, a few more wrinkles around her eyes. But the same quiet, loving mom.
My dad yells something I can’t quite make out. Even from here, I can tell his words are slurred. He tries again, and gets noticeably annoyed when my mom tries to shush him. I glance up again and watch as he spills his drink.
Oh, God. Where’s Lucy? My heart sinks as I imagine her trying to introduce herself to them. I remember how wholesome and warm her family was. How they kindly welcomed me into their idyllic sanctuary of home. I can’t offer anything like that.
I turn back to the huddle, desperate to tune my dad out as he shouts again.
Desperate to return to my locked-in state from the first half.
Desperate to pretend it doesn’t feel like my perfect little world here is crumbling in on itself.
It doesn’t work. The anxiety about what’s unfolding in the stands makes me stiffen up. Every shot is off, every pass is wrong. I feel like I’m moving in slow motion as I try to keep up. Finally, Coach Daniels puts me out of my misery, and I spend the rest of the game on the bench.
I can’t even blame him.
We pull off the win, but barely. The team needs me, but I don’t deliver.
His postgame talk is about looking forward. I feel his eyes on me as he harps on moving on from mistakes and being smart this next week leading up to the conference tournament. He wraps it up just as I hear a commotion start outside.
I close my eyes.
Please, no.
Please don’t let it be him.