Page 42 of Fast Break
“That sounds like my problem. Not yours.”
“I know but somebody needs to warn you. Don’t lose yourself just because you’re lusting after the straight jock every girl in school wants. He’s not going to choose you.”
“Noted,” I say, needing to put an end to this conversation. “And I don’t want to be rude but I’m going to go now, Jace. Thank you for the dinner but maybe next time a heads up would be good.”
I pull the phone case off my phone and dig out the emergency fifty dollar note I keep there and place it on the table.
“That’s not necessary. I got it,” Jace replies.
“I insist,” I say. Then I turn and leave my friend at the table along with my half-eaten dinner and a full glass of coke and a whole hell of a lot of confusion.
I’m equally annoyed and frustrated as I make my way to my car on the back streets of South Wharf. I sit in the front seat for a few minutes as the air cools around me before I switch on the ignition. I know Jace was just lashing out about JT but a lot of what he said is kind of getting to me. Because in a way he is right. The girls do all want JT. That’s not an issue in itself because I know he’s not looking back at them—not when his attention is on me. But they don’t know that.
Nobody knows that except him and me.
I know I should be okay with that, that I shouldn’t let it bother me. But I’ve been here before with closeted guys, and it does bother me even though I know I have no right to expect JT to out himself.
Before I let my head catch up with my feelings, I realise I’ve driven towards school instead of back home and I know I’m going there because JT is playing basketball at the school stadium. I don’t know if I’m making the right decision here or whether he even wants me to show up to his game like this. But I can’t stop myself.
It's only just gone half past eight. I know his game started at eight o’clock, so I’ve likely missed half of it. I pull into the school carpark, surprised by the number of cars in the lot, and follow the bright lights and sounds of cheers to the stadium.
The game is paused for half time when I step into the stadium and glance up at the surprisingly full stands. There’s a clear divide between the away team and the local supporters so I navigate my way through the crowd, settling into an empty spot near the navy and silver Dukes supporters.
I find JT in the huddle around the coach, cheeks flushed and dirty blonde hair tussled. There’s a light sheen of sweat covering his skin which I don’t mind at all as my eyes drop to the nice set of biceps on display in that basketball top. He hasn’t noticed me yet, but I think that’s for the best. I don’t want to get in his head or make him fumble the ball like he still sometimes does when I watch him play. The team do a quick hands-in and then they are rushing back out to the play.
Trey is out there beside JT, and they do a cute little fist bump that has me smiling as they set up around Vince for the centre tip off. The siren sounds, the referee throws the ball up and Vince taps it straight to JT. He is off down the court, easily weaving around two tall defensive players before sending a neat bounce pass to his cousin who puts in an easy layup. The whole play took around six seconds to execute, and I am duly impressed as JT and Trey do another interesting hand celebration and the local supporters cheer.
JT is honestly amazing. He is a little dynamo, easily the best one out there even though he’s the shortest guy on court. He controls the tempo, dominates the play and handles the ball like he was born for it. He creates as many assists for his teammates as he puts up shots for himself and he always seems to be in the right position for a pass, like he can read the game.
I can’t keep my eyes off him, and I feel myself smiling when the crowd suddenly starts up a chant for theDouble Troubleafter JT and Trey set up another amazing double play. The Sterling cousins clearly possess that magical little talent of showmanship, that elusive x-factor that can’t be taught. It’s hard to look away from either of the Sterlings when they’re on court together.
JT scores again, forcing the opposition coach to call for a much-needed timeout. That’s when JT looks up at the stands, and his eyes collide with mine. His widen in surprise just as he trips over absolutely nothing, quickly righting himself. I stifle a laugh, but the enormous smile that spreads across his face confirms everything I needed to know. I made the right call in coming here.
He jogs to the team huddle, but his gaze keeps flicking back to me. I nod towards his coach, silently telling him to focus. He just grins before leaning in, and then the game is back on.
The Dukes cruise to an easy win, with my boy stealing the show as he and his cousin put on what I believe the sports people call a clinic. I’m relieved that my presence in the stands didn’t throw him off his game. Well, aside from that one little stumble.
JT is swarmed by his teammates, caught up in the aftermath of the game and I don’t want to impose. I don’t know how to be around him in his world, whether he wants my presence in the stands known. So I stay seated and wait for an opening.
The team huddle around the coach for his final words and then head towards the locker room, JT in the middle. A second later my phone buzzes in my pocket.
JT:
Do not leave! I’ll be 10 mins.
ME:
Take however long you need.
I’ll be here.
The crowd starts to dwindle as parents and friends and even some of the school staff head home. I notice Chanel and her group of friends in the front row but I don’t feel anything towards her. I’m the one who’ll be taking home the star player tonight, not her.
At least, that’s what I’m hoping.
Before long I’m the last one in the stands so I move to wait outside the locker room where Chanel and the team’s large group of friends have gathered. It seemed slightly less conspicuous but I’m now overly aware of the puzzled looks being sent my way. JT is the first one out of the locker room, his hair damp from his shower and curling against his head. His eyes are bright as he beelines straight for me where I wait propped up against the wall.
“You came to my basketball game,” he says, not even hiding how happy this has made him. I wish I’d come to all of them now.
