Page 29 of Off the Rim
Fuck. How noticeable was that? I didn’t even realize I was doing it.
Trying not to freak out, I pull away and nod to the staff before making a beeline out of the building. I need some fresh air before I keel over.
CHAPTER 18
ASHTON
"Marcus! Wait up!" I rush to slip through the door before it slams closed, nearly running into Marcus when he comes to a sudden stop just outside the door. His hands are resting on his hips, and he's breathing like he just finished doing Coach's favorite uphill sprints. "Dude, are you alright?"
"I'm fine. Or I will be. I just need a minute."
"I thought that went really well."
Marcus stares at me like he can't believe that came out of my mouth, but it did go really well. The interviewers were happy, Coach was happy. Why isn't he? I know he was nervous about the interview, mostly because of the pressure the coaches were putting on him to pretend to be something he's not, when who he is as a person outshines everyone one else on the team. That's why I put so much emphasis on his skills and what he brings to the team, because whether or not the other guys want to acknowledge it, he's fucking awesome and deserves to get recognition.
"I can't figure you out," he says finally.
"Well, that's on you. I'm not really a complicated guy," I joke, trying to ease the tension. I can barely hold Marcus' gaze. The instinct to look away is intense, almost primal. Like we're animals and he's the alpha, his intensity permeates the air between us. Goosebumps raise on my skin.
"When other people are around, you're a different version of yourself. You strut around like you're hot stuff, talking shit like you think you're better than me—the way everyone here does. Then whenever it's just the two of us, or whenever you think no one else is looking, you act like you want to know me. You stare at me like you're expecting me to do or say something to validate you the way everyone else does. And then you go and say all that stuff?—”
"It was all true, Marcus."
"And what am I supposed to say to that? What do you want from me?"
"I didn't say it because I want anything from you. I said it because it's true, and because you deserve recognition for the way you play, not because of where you come from or how you got here." I cross my arms, feeling oddly defensive about doing something nice for once in my life. "That interview doesn't just get watched by die-hard ACC fans. NBA coaches, fans, and players all watch these interviews, just like college scouts watched your local after-fame interviews when we were in high school. It's part of your resume now, and you're starting your senior year with recognition and personal appeal. It's a good thing."
"I didn't ask you to do that."
Holy fucking shithe can be fucking bullheaded. I can't decide if I want to stomp my feet and scream like a pissed off toddler or drop to my knees and beg for forgiveness.
"What do I have to do to make things right? Why can't you take the fucking peace offering?" I'm practically trembling with pent up…something.Rage. Guilt. Humility? So many unnamed emotions are tearing through me. All I want is to get through to him somehow. "It's owed to you, Marcus. I owe it to you, and so much more."
"Don't be rid?—”
"I have spent every single day for the last four years thinking about what happened that night. About what I caused by doing nothing, and how you suffered because I was the worst kind of coward. You're better than me, Marcus, both off and on the court. You always were. Then suddenly you were out of the picture, and I got everything that should have been yours." I swallow thickly. "What's worse is that I squandered it, while you never stopped working to be the best. And now here we are. I finally have a chance to change my future for the better, but all I can think about is how I can give you your chance back, too."
"I don't need your pity. Or your help. I can handle myself."
My lips quirk, trying to hold back a smile at a memory of him saying something similar when we were fifteen at basketball camp. Even back then, he'd been the only one to be blunt and honest with me. I wish more people had talked to me the way he did. Maybe then it wouldn't have been such a shock to move out into the real world.
"I know you can, tough guy."
There's a flash of recognition in the way he looks at me, but then his eyes cloud over and his scowl returns. That was the year his life changed irrevocably. I can imagine it was even worse than the year I crushed all his scholarship dreams.
"You and I are going to make it, and we're going to do it by working together," I tell him pointedly. "And I'll do whatever it takes to show you how serious I am when I say I think about that night every single day. I've thought ofyouevery single day. I've rehearsed what I would say so many times that the words don't have meaning anymore. How I would show you that I'm truly sorry."
Trying to keep the tremble from my limbs, I step into his personal space, forcing him to back until we're hidden in the shadows of an awning, and his back hits the wall. He leans his face away from me, like he's afraid I might do something stupid, like kiss him again.
"Unless you're about to drop to your knees, right here, right now—stay the fuck out of my way."
Keeping my eyes firmly on his, I do exactly that.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
Submitting.
"Showing you I'm serious."
