Page 65 of Courtside

They were wrapping up a two-hour practice, when David started getting them set up for four on four King of the Court.

“We’re two short, Coach,” Zephyr called out as they distributed colored jerseys.

David glanced over at the bleachers. When his eyes caught on Sage, a slow smile spread across his face. “You’re in, Lefty,” he said, nodding toward the court.

Her gut turned to ice, but she veiled her reaction with a cocked brow. “Only if you play,” she responded, trying to ignore the muffled pounding in her ears.

“That’s the plan.”

She watched as David tossed his game board down on the sideline and removed the long whistle he wore around his neck. He, like her, was dressed in a hoodie and sweats, and as the players realized what was happening, they started to whoop and shout.

“Let’s go, Coach!” Monty jumped up and down, a wide grin on his face as his braids bounced where they were tied up on the back of his head.

Fuck. She wasn’t going to be able to get out of this. And maybe, just maybe, she didn’t want to. She couldn’t deny that there was a spark of something in her chest that had her itching to test herself, to put herself up against these guys and see what she still had.

Standing up, she pulled off her hoodie and bent down to tighten the laces of her shoes. They weren’t what she would normally wear to play, but they were functional, at least.

“Alright,” David called out, looking around the assembled team. “Sage is on Black and I’m on Green.”

She put on the practice jersey that was tossed her way, assessing her team. Damian and Patrick were both freshmen guards, and then Jenks, at almost seven feet, was a true center.

“First basket wins, and winner stays,” David called, ushering his team out to start.

Sage bent her knees, trying to speed through warming up her legs as her team lined up under the basket.

She watched the first match-up, taking note of the different players, but her gaze kept snagging on David. He moved with the grace and efficiency of someone who felt as at home on the court as he did in his own bedroom.

He took up space in the high post, dishing the ball out to a guard whenever it touched his hands. And when he shot the ball —fuck, it was effortless, his form perfect, and Sage thought she’d never seen anything so beautiful in her entire life.

Sage felt her lips curve up into a smile.

“I’ve got Coach,” she said to her team.

Jenks shook his head and laughed. “Bold move, Lefty.”

Scowling, she reached over and flicked the big center’s bare shoulder. “You don’t get to call me that.”

“But he does?” He looked pointedly at David, whose team was still trying to get a basket up.

She felt her cheeks warm, but she shrugged. “He lives in my apartment complex. Sometimes I see him walking his dog.”

“He has a dog?” Patrick leaned in closer.

Sage decided right at that moment that she was going to force David to bring Daisy to practice tomorrow.

“Yeah, a huge, intimidating dog,” she said. “Really scary.”

David’s team scored, and the next group ran out as the losing team rotated off the court.

Sage’s attention returned to the teams in front of her, and she bounced on the balls of her feet. Energy coursed through her. Her hands flexed, already imagining the feeling of the smooth leather against her skin.

Five seconds later, David made a pass through the middle to Foley, who made a quick lay-up.

The losing team grumbled, but Sage tuned them out as she ran out onto the court. David stood off to one wing, bent over with his hands braced on his knees. His chest heaved, and sweat already gathered on his hairline and upper lip.

“How you hanging, old man?”

David shook his head as a low chuckle vibrated from his chest. “Where I come from, it’s bad luck to talk shit before you’re winning,” he said, his voice rough.

---