Page 40 of Off the Rim
"We were kids, you couldn't have known?—”
"I knew what Kent was like, and those other guys followed his lead into whatever trouble he could stir up. Do you remember what he was like that summer at camp?" I nod, remembering how Kent was the one that would shoot wads of wet napkins at the back of my head, using a straw like a blow dart. I hadn't grown into my ears yet, and it made me a target for guys like Kent that need to find someone to pick on to feel good about themselves. "He just got worse the older we got. Did you know he went to Clemson?"
"Yeah, he got injured sophomore year, right? But he’s still playing, up in Canada or something, right?"
Ashton shakes his head. "That's just what his lawyer and their PR team came up with. He got in trouble for some kind of cruel hazing thing within the frat. I don't know what exactly, but it had to have been pretty bad, because I can tell you from experience that those frats get away with a lot of shit they shouldn't." A haunted look passes over his eyes, and I want to reach out and comfort him.
"In that case, I'm not sure I want to know what he got kicked out for."
He shrugs, but it's more of a defeated gesture than a display of nonchalance. "Doesn't matter. People like him never pay for their crimes. He's off living his best life, playing in the G League. He'll probably make it to the NBA before I do."
"Not if I have anything to do with it," I say, taking one last sip of my drink before putting it down. I'm nowhere near drunk, but Ican tell that those things are dangerous, and it would only take one more to impair my decision-making abilities. I'm already far too relaxed. "You and me, right? We're going to take this team to the championship, show everyone what we've got. You have a real chance, and if I have anything to say about it, we'll get you there."
"So do you, you know. Maybe a better chance. You're more versatile on the court, and you make decisions like—” He snaps his fingers. "You can read me and tell what I'm going to do before I do it."
I scoff. "I can think of three times specifically that prove otherwise."
"On the court, I mean."
"Thanks," I tell him earnestly. "I don't really have NBA aspirations, though. Not as a player, anyway."
"What?!"
A huff of laughter escapes me at his incredulous expression. "I want to work for the NBA, but not necessarily as a player. I want to work in strategy and development, maybe even as a scout. There are a lot of young players out there that get overlooked because they're not on the AAU circuit, or can't afford to go to a good school with a successful basketball program, so they don't get noticed."
"You'd be great at that," Ashton says seriously. "But I still think you should play for the NBA for a little while first. Keep me company."
Ugh.Stop fucking winking at me.
"We have to get there first, then I can decide. For now, let's do what we need to to move on, so we can move forward."
"Move on?"
"Yeah," I say, nodding. "It's time to stop living in the past. Holding a grudge isn't going to get me anywhere."
I want to tell him I heard him stand up for me today, and how it made me feel. But maybe I can show him how impressed and grateful I am by moving past my hangups and offering him my friendship.
Ashton stares at my hand that I've jutted out towards him. "Friends?"
He takes my hand and shakes it gingerly. "Sure. Friends."
Neither of us releases each other's hand. Instead, we sit there with them grasped in an awkward, still handshake.
CHAPTER 22
ASHTON
"Sure. Friends."
The words taste bitter like the lie they are. I don't want to be his friend.
I think he knows that, though. And by the way he doesn't pull his hand away, I think maybe he doesn't want to be my friend either.
Palm to palm, our hands seem to fuse together. Whatever happened in the past, this feeling between us, like an electrical current, just keeps growing stronger. It was there when we snuck out to play on the outdoor courts at basketball camp, even though we were too young to really understand what it was. It was there the night everything went wrong, when we were old enough to understand that our actions had consequences, but not how much those consequences would impact our lives.
Marcus Vell deserves more than me. He deserves better than a selfish asshole whose father has an unfair vendetta against him. He deserves a more certain future than what getting tied up with me would be.
I want to be better, to do better for him.
