Page 25 of The Assist
“You’re like a foot taller than I am,” she squeaks and waves her hand, gesturing from my feet to head.
“I’ll even give up my good hand.” I put my right hand behind my back and walk the ball to her. She looks up at me with a cocky grin that is sexy as hell. I can see the hesitation as clearly as I can see her determination.
Pulling her bottom lip behind her front teeth she looks like she is in deep concentration as she tries to figure out her next move. I hold the ball out to her, and she reaches for it. I’m faster and move it out of her grasp as I shake my head. “If I win, I want no mention of last night’s loss to anyone. I have a reputation to uphold.”
Her brown eyes sparkle. I push away the thought that I just referred to a girl’s eyes as sparkling as she speaks. “Buying my silence?”
I nod.
“What do I get ifIwin?”
“I’ll keep tutoring you.”
I’m not even sure I’ve been all that helpful. She’s a sharp chick, she’d have figured it out on her own. I wonder if she can see through my weak attempt to see her again.
“Give me the ball, hotshot.”
Ball in hand, she telegraphs her every move, giving me a distinct advantage even with only one good leg. She has no poker face and when she fakes left while looking right, I’m already prepared for her to make a move. What I’m not prepared for is Joel standing in my damn way.
“What the hell, man?” I ask as I nearly trip over him while Blair dribbles undefended to the basket and tosses up an easy shot just under the basket.
“Sorry,” Joel gets out between chuckles, clearly amused at my expense.
Nathan calls out the score from the sidelines. “You’re rusty, Reynolds. Weak defense.”
Blair saunters back to me, swinging her little ass side to side as she dribbles like she’s just walked on to the team. She dribbles the ball right up to me. Her hair is pulled up into another high ponytail, and it flips from side to side. “One to zip.”
“You got lucky.”
I take the ball and palm it in my left hand, dribble side to side, front to back. She tracks the ball with a focus that makes me want to keep showboating. Thank you, Pistol Pete. I spent an entire summer doing ball handling drills until not having the ball in my hands felt like the loss of a limb.
The guys around the gym have stopped any pretense of minding their own damn business and all eyes are glued on us.
“Show off,” and “Steal it, Blair.” ring out in steady succession. It’s clear who they are routing for, and it aint me.
Traitors.
I make my move to the basket, spinning around her as best I can with the boot weighing down my right foot. Z steps forward just as I’m preparing to pull up and puts his big body between me and the basket. No way am I getting around him with a bad leg. Even with two good ones, he would still be a wall that is hard to break through. I get the shot off, but he’s thrown me enough that it rattles around and bounces out without going through the net. Z rebounds and tosses it to Blair.
“What the hell?” I stop and glare at my center just as Blair whizzes by me again and makes another short shot.
“This is sabotage,” I mutter as I watch Z and Blair high-five.
To be clear, I want her to win . . . but I don’t want to get my ass handed to me.
My teammates are very squarely on her side. She brings the ball back to me with a smile so sweet I want to kiss it off her . . . and then beat her. Girl or not, I have my pride, and the more she taunts me, the harder it is to let her win.
While she stands there waiting for my reaction or for me to make a move to the basket, I decide not to risk it and shoot the ball from where I stand at the top of the three-point line. The surprise on her face turns to a frustrated, and maybe impressed, frown as the ball swishes through the net.
The gym erupts with boos. I turn to the guys sitting around the sidelines and nod toward them. Wise guys, the whole lot of them. I meet Shaw’s gaze. No surprise that he’s the loudest heckler. “You keep at it, and you won’t see the ball all year, Rookie.”
He pipes down, but the rest of the guys continue to let me know how much they want her to hand me my ass.
“Aww, come on, don’t be a poor sport,” Joel says as he shoots a wink to Blair and beckons her over to him.
My “friends” huddle around her, leaning down so they can . . . fuck, I dunno, come up with a game plan?
“What the fuck? I’m only using one hand and I have a boot on my foot.”
