Page 10 of Beneath the Stands (Sugarlake 2)

6

Eli

I’m standing in the middle of the basketball court, eyeing my setup. It’s not perfect, but it’ll do. My job today is to teach Becca the basics. Introduce her to the love of my life. That is, if she even shows up. I’m pretty sure Coach told her to get here at eight a.m., but it’s ten ‘til and she still hasn’t arrived.

Doesn’t she know “on time” is late?

I kneel, smoothing the painter’s tape I put on the mid-court line. I spent all of Sunday figuring out my game plan. I’m not sure it will work, but I figured visual representation and teaching her to play is better than her listening to me talk for hours on end.

The squeak of sneakers on the polished maple floor has me looking toward the noise. Becca struts in, bookbag slung over a shoulder, barely-there shorts, and a skin-tight tee that says “FCU” across her tits.

Jesus.

At least she’s wearing better shoes today.

“Cutting it a little close, aren’t you?” I stand.

Emeralds slice through me with her glare. She tosses her bag to the floor and stomps over. “It’s not even eight yet. I’ve got…” She grabs my wrist, peering at my watch. “Four minutes to spare.”

I jerk my arm back, my skin prickling from where her fingers wrapped around it. “I don’t need the attitude, Rebecca. I need you to take this seriously.”

She throws her hair into a ponytail, drawing my eyes to the smooth, pale expanse of her neck.

“Don’t call me Rebecca. Ugh, just when I think I can’t hate you more, you go and sound like my old man.”

“I don’t really give a damn if you like me.”

“You should.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because you’re stuck with me for the foreseeable future. It’d be a shame to make your life a livin’ hell while I’m here.” She smiles as if the thought pleases her.

“I’m pretty sure being around you is the definition of a living hell.”

“Then I’ll be sure to live up to my reputation,” she quips. “Can we just get today over with?”

I point to myself and grin. “I’m running this. Not you.”

Her lips purse as she eyes me up and down. “Hasn’t it been a few years since you could even play? I’m surprised you remember how to run anything.”

My smile drops, teeth gritting as my blood heats.

Fuck her.

I lean in close. I want to grip her feisty little throat. Feel her heartbeat quicken under my fingers while I lay out how this will go. My fists clench to quell the urge. “Let’s get one thing straight. Every single thing that happens when it comes to you and this court? I control it. You can run that fuckin’ mouth of yours all day long. It’ll only make your submission that much sweeter.” My voice drops. “You want this job, Becca? You better learn to play my way, baby girl.”

My gaze swings to her lips as they part.

“I ain’t your baby.”

“No?” I smirk. “That’s fine. I’ll settle for you being my bitch.”

Her eyes flare, and satisfaction digs its way through my system, burrowing in my chest.

“Becca! Good, you’re here,” Coach interrupts.

I clear my throat, realizing how close we’re standing, my lips a centimeter away from hers. I take two large steps back. Becca’s eyes shutter, the heat dying as she looks toward Coach and smiles.

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