Page 44 of Loving the Legend
Just to fuck with him, I run a series of fast dribble combinations between my legs, crossing over behind my back, and reversing as I let the shot clock wind down. Every time he reaches in, it’s too slow, and the ball’s already switched over. With six seconds left on the clock, I sidestep him and charge to the rim. I slice through two Marvels players as I take flight. Just as I release the ball over the rim, a hand comes out of nowhere, smacking it away with a thunderous force.
The crowd goes wild as I hiss, “What the fuck!”
I land slightly off balance, staggering forward to break my fall.
I whip around and find Sid towering over me.
“Welcome to Miami!” he says with a wink before he races backward up-court.
I clench my jaw and glare at him.
Message received.
He knocks down a swift three-pointer despite Kaleb’s aggressive defense. On our next possession, Kaleb passes me the ball as Sid damn near pushes his own teammate out of the way to defend me. Tevin tries to free me up by attempting a screen, but Sid shoulders him, sending him flying. The crowd goes wild, seeing us play one-on-one for the first time and our teammates pander to them by staying back. Spinning, I give Sid my back tocreate space. I try to shake him by dribbling left, cutting right, then left again, but he’s one step ahead. I guess I’m not the only one who studies their opponents’ moves. I turn and he’s right on top of me, blocking any opening for a shot. He’s relentless. My speed against his bulk—I know I can shake him. I turn and dribble right, and he follows. I sidestep him, feinting right but going left, but he remains rooted in place, not falling for it. When I glimpse the shot clock, there are four seconds left. I change speed and dart left, creating a sliver of an opening. Charging off of my back foot, I race like hell to the rim. Sid on my six, I spin to evade Justin and charge into the air. I release the ball a split second before the shot clock goes off. It ricochets off of the backboard and spins around the rim. I drop into a half crouch and whip around to face the net, just as the ball swoops through the basket.
“Hell yeah!” I bark, beating my chest.
The Marvels call a time-out.
I turn to face Sid, whose expression is neutral.
“Thanks for the dance!” I quip, returning a wink.
His lips curl up slightly. Before he can reply, Idris barrels into me, bumping me with his broad chest, shouting, “That’s how you fucking do it, Rook!”
Both teams continue to battle like it’s the playoffs. In the fourth quarter, Sid hits a crossover dribble and drives through three of our defenders to float it in with his left hand, bringing the Marvels into the lead, 76–75. Fuck, that play was tough…and hot. His corded muscles and explosive drive powered through three bodies like they were featherweight. If he ever quit basketball, he’d do damage as a linebacker in the NFL. It’s damn near impossible to take that much contact without committing an offensive foul, but he has a certain finesse.
Wait—why the hell am I fanboying?I shake it off and get back into the game.
Justin fouls Idris attempting a layup. He makes one of the two free throws. We trade high fives. We’ll take whatever points we can get.
Justin misses the next shot. Double-teamed, I lose possession of the ball. I scramble to retake possession, cutting Sid off, and release a mid-range fadeaway jump shot.
Cash!
Sid responds by banking in a two-point jump shot. It’s feeling like a tennis match.
The arena is vibrating. The crowd is louder than I’ve ever heard in my life.
Harry and I move in to double-team Sid, but Harry gets jammed when Justin blocks his path, creating a screen. Locking eyes with Sid, I reach in to steal possession just as he pushes the ball through his legs. I squat low, ready to counter any possible drive. He fakes left, but I stay rooted in place. He crosses the ball behind his back and pushes off like he’s about to hit a jump shot. I jump up to block him, but his feet never leave the floor. He spins and takes off. I smack my head for falling for his jump fake!
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
I charge after him, but Kristian intercepts me. I waste no time shaking him, but I’m still too slow. Sid flies through the air and whips out an insane between-the-legs, left-handed dunk. The fucker hangs off of the rim in a grandfuck yougesture, and the crowd goes ape.
God! When he gets this hot, he’s unstoppable.
Coach calls another time-out. The Marvels are in the lead with a score of 86–82.
Sid flashes a cocky grin to Justin when he slings an arm around his shoulder and slaps his chest. So fucking smug. I don’t want to just win—I want to demolish the Marvels. I’m aching to wipe that cocky grin off of his face. I want to send their crowdslinking home full of regret for backing a team of fucking losers. The thought makes me grin. If we take this game, I’ll hit up whatever club Tev and Idris drag me to and celebrate until I pass out.
The game resumes and it’s an all-out war. We go toe-to-toe until it’s the second to last possession of the fourth quarter and we’re down two points. I rub my hands on my jersey and swipe my face against my arm to clear the sweat from my eyes. I catch the pass from Idris just as Sid moves in to guard me.
“Hey, what’s the name of that cologne you wear?”
“What?” he asks, elbowing me while reaching in for a steal.
“The one from Christmas.” I evade his reach and cross the ball between my legs.
