Page 137 of Loving the Legend
Arnaz and Tevin go head-to-head. Arnaz, in his attempt to protect the ball, loses possession and kicks it out of bounds, causing a turnover. Kaleb runs the ball upcourt but cuts it to me waiting in the wing. I kick it back to him. He immediately releases it, but Sid smacks the ball away.
Asshole.
The Royals miss their next two possessions, but I continue my assault, hitting back-to-back three-pointers and two jump shots.
Sid’s bent forward, dribbling the ball back and forth between his legs slowly, letting the shot clock wind down. Idris squats low in anticipation. With only four seconds left on the clock, Sid explodes past Idris to charge to the rim and post a floater, bringing the score to 105–92, still our lead.
Sid then moves in to defend me when I take possession. I dribble right, and he shuffles, matching my movements, squared up in front of me. I smack his hand away when he reaches in for the ball.
"Ouch!" he whines.
"Shut up!" I pull back and cross left, but still no open look. I half spin counter-clockwise, then reverse back clockwise at breakneck speed. I hold and release a jump shot over Sid’s big body, and it’s good!
The crowd goes bonkers.
"Wait—no secret handshake for me?" I pretend to gag, then turn and race away before he can respond.
Arnaz passes the ball to Sid, who scans the floor to see if anyone is open for a pass. Our team’s defense is too strong. Sid maintains possession, using the side of his body to push forward. I charge from behind and smack the ball out of his hand to complete a breakaway dunk.
I grin as he barks, “For fuck’s sake!”
Aha, fucking losers!
With under three minutes left on the clock, Coach calls a timeout to bench me for the remainder of the game. I’ve sealed the W for us. There’s no point in keeping me in and risking an injury. As I approach the bench, I’m enveloped by my team’s chest bumps, head and butt pats, and high fives. As frustrating as it’s been tonight, putting up twenty-seven points in the fourthquarter and absorbing the crowd's insane energy feels fantastic. I hydrate, then crash into the chair, burying my face in my towel. I take deep breaths to release the adrenaline. I’ll be too wired to sleep tonight, especially without Sid since we’re heading to Charlotte right after this game.
Sid effortlessly charges through our defense to post a floater. If we were on the same team, we’d be unstoppable. I wonder if we’ll get teamed up during an All-Star game. That’s assuming I’d even get selected given my shitty start to the season. Since the media still plays up our rivalry, it isn’t likely we’d play on the same team. After all, it’s good business for the league to give the media what it wants.
I’m on my feet when the final buzzer signals the game’s end. The final score is 120–112. I place a peace sign against my heart as I take to the court to high-five my teammates. Sid, being the leader that he is, takes the lead in dapping and congratulating a few of our players. When it’s my turn, he pulls me into a hug. His scent mixed with his sweat, damn. My dick perks up.
Knowing what his scent does to me, he’s grinning when we pull apart.
“You were remarkable tonight. You did warn me,” he says, chuckling while patting my chest.
“To be fair, the ref’s refusal to call fouls didn’t work too well in your favor. You put up tough shots. And that block of yours—cruel.” I punch his arm.
I spot an interviewer and camera crew posted nearby waiting to interview me.
“Thanks. Butmyblock?" He scoffs. "What about your stealthy steal in the 4th? Cold!”
I grin at that. It’s twisted how much I love beating him on the court. “Yeah, we gave ’em a show tonight.”
Our gazes lock for a beat. His eyes graze over my face, resting on my lips, and while it’s no more than a second or two, I bet he’sthinking what I’m thinking. I wish we could be together tonight. When we’re both wired like this, we spend the night making intense love until we pass out in each other’s arms. Even though things are rocky between us, I have a feeling we’d honor that ritual tonight if we could.
“Fly safely,” he says before he turns and walks away. He daps Arnaz, who’s waiting for him. I watch the two of them retreat until I’m approached for an on-court interview.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Ithrow on my headphones and hit play on Sid’s post-game interview while en route to the airport. I installed privacy screens on both my and Sid's phones months ago so we could text without looking over our shoulders. He’s rocking a fire truck red button-up shirt and black jeans with slate diagonal zippers down the front, some of which are unzipped, revealing his sexy skin. Damn. No one has the right to be that mouthwatering.
Fuck! Ireallyneed to get railed by my boyfriend.
“Sid, over here. Ned from ABC Sports,” a voice off camera calls out.
Sid scans the room and nods for Ned to continue.
“There was a moment in the fourth quarter where you, Ty, and Johan looked to be exchanging words. Could you tell us what that was about?”
The unofficial rule is what happens on the court stays on the court.
