Page 16 of My High School Rebel Boyfriend
“Uh, just a photography assignment. It’s the only time I can get the darkroom.” I hated lying, but Mom would freak out if she knew I was training beforeandafter school. She would say I was doing way too much.
It was cloudy and cold the next morning, so I gladly accepted Mom’s offer of a ride. I didn’t say anything when she dropped me off at the third gate entrance, the closest one to the photography block. It meant I had to walk back across campus to the gym, and that was going to make me a little late. It had surprised me to think that Titan trained early in the mornings, as well as after school. I guessed that the commitment to basketball was intense.
Titan was practicing long shots when I arrived. He didn’t greet me with a Good Morning, but rather his first words were, “Did you talk to Ebony yet?”
“I’ll see her today,” I said, sliding off my puffer jacket and removing my scarf. I had worn leggings and sneakers, so I was ready to go. “Shall I do a warmup?”
Titan looked at his watch. “Yeah, a few laps? Don’t want you pulling a muscle.” He laughed and took another shot. From his reaction, an exaggerated, “Ohhhh yeahhh,” I figured it went in.
I did a shortened version of our regular warmup, laps, side steps, fast feet sprints, followed by some dynamic stretches. As I announced I was ready, Titan landed another long shot, not shy in proclaiming his own greatness.
He started with me running from the side of the court and jumping up to touch the net of the basket. My first few attempts were nowhere near it, my timing all off.
“So, you think I have a chance with Ebony?”
“I think you’d have more of a chance if you fixed your hair,” I said.
“My hair?” He feigned indignation, and fussed with the top of it, implying he’d put a lot of effort in to fixing it to its precise shape. “What’s wrong with my hair?”
I flashed him a wry smile. “Just sayin’ you might make a better first impression if...” There was no need to finish the sentence; he got my gist.
The door thundered open then, and in came Mitchell, dribbling his ball across the floor. He looked a little disheveled, crumpled jeans, laces untied, hair messy. He came to a halt as he took aim, but his eyes registered shock at the sight of me and the ball went wayward. He looked at Titan with a deep stare but didn’t say anything, though it was obvious I was an unwanted intrusion.
“I’m helping Harper with her vertical jumps.” Titan sounded defensive, answering a question that hadn’t been asked. “And you know,man, you’ll probably be better at it than me.” He turned back to me. “Mitch is the center, it’s his job to block and get rebounds.”
“Doesn’t everyone just do whatever and go wherever?”
“No!”
“Well, what’s your position?”
“Shooting guard,” Titan said, “can’t ya tell?” He aimed at the hoop, it circled the rim and dropped in. He flashed me a smirk. Mitchell was taking his backpack off of his shoulders. I watched him put it over by the wall, tying his shoes, taking off a couple of layers. “Anyway, why’d you give up track?”
Now he was spraying deodorant under his t-shirt. It took me a second to realize Titan was still talking to me. “Who? Me?”
“Yeah, you,” Titan said, slowly bouncing the ball from one hand to the other. “You used to be as good as Tanchia, then you just quit.” I shrugged. I had no intention of telling him my story, and quite frankly I was surprised he had remembered. “Junior year, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah.” I looked at my watch with agitation, as if I had somewhere else to be.
“Why do you need help with your vertical jumps?” That was Mitchell, and there was no kindness in his tone. He’d wandered back over, spinning the ball on his fingertip, that familiar sweet scent wafting to my nose.
“Oh, uh, for the tournament,” I said, “I just wanted to get...better.” I sounded lame and I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks, probably matching my hair color.
“Do you lift weights?” A blunt question.
I shook my head.
“Plyometrics?” Even blunter.
Another shake, this one accompanied by a droopy lip.
“The tournament’s next week,” he said with a mocking laugh, and he stopped the spinning ball and shot for the hoop, the sound of the ball against the backboard ringing out throughthe gym.
A crushing feeling seeped through me. He’d just brought me firmly back to reality. I didn’t do gym work yet I was somehow hoping to wow the scouts with a couple of extra training sessions. Yeah, it was about as likely as me getting an award for photography. Stupidly, I could feel myself on the verge of crying.
“Are you trying to get a scholarship, Harper?” Titan asked.
I shrugged again and blinked rapidly because I was about to make a fool of myself. I wiped at my eye, pretending I had something in it—I did, tears.
