Page 11 of Beneath the Stands (Sugarlake 2)

“Here and ready to learn, Coach.” She taps her head.

“Atta girl.” He stops next to me and surveys the court I’ve destroyed with painter’s tape. “Inventive. Looks like you’ve got this under control.” He faces Becca. “I got your class schedule, so after you’re done here, stop by my office and we can work out your hours.”

Becca bobs her head. Coach claps me on the back, walking away.

I sigh, turning to Becca. “How long do I get you for?”

She grabs a strand of hair from her ponytail and tugs. “I have class at ten-thirty.”

“Okay.” I walk to the sideline, grabbing a ball. “Let’s start with what you know. See if you remember anything I taught you and Lee back in the day.” I grin as I dribble.

She guffaws. “Clearly, you don’t remember our childhood. The only thing you ever taught me is how to successfully avoid basketball players.”

She’s wrong, I do remember. Out of all my sister’s friends, she was the one I enjoyed teasing the most. Even back then she was a loudmouth, and I found a sick sense of pleasure in figuring out the best ways to get her to shut the hell up. Plus, there’s just something about watching that blush spread from her neck to her hairline. My dribbling slows as I think about what it would take to make that happen now.

“If I recall, your perky freshman face was at plenty of games and after-parties, hanging off a player or two.”

While Lee was never one to go to a party—at least while I was still in town—Becca was at every one, front and center. I rarely went to any, too invested in making ball my life. But the rumors grew rampant around school, and the locker room talk wasn’t exactly quiet. In the short tim

e of our shared tenure at Sugarlake High, she made quite the name for herself. The slutty preacher’s girl—wild and unruly.

I’m sure her folks have been so proud.

That thought gives me pause, stomach rolling from my judgment. It never crossed my mind what she may have gone through at home because of her reputation. If it’s anything like what I feel with Pops, I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Failing to live up to people’s expectations is a hell of a bruise.

I dribble between my legs, my eyes seeing her in a new light.

She waves me off. “That’s beside the point. Those boys served a purpose and that’s all they were good for. Kinda like you.”

My brows lift, a smile teasing my lips. “What purpose do I serve?”

“Teachin’ me the ‘love of the game.’ After that, I’ll toss you to the side just like the rest of ‘em.”

I chuckle at the fact she thinks I’ll need to be tossed. Like I would give her that kind of power.

“Okay, well this” —I hold the basketball in the air— “is a bas-ket-ball.”

She widens her eyes. “Wow. That’s amazin’.”

“It is.” I nod. “Just wait until you learn about shooting.”

“Like a pistol?” she gasps, throwing a hand to her heart.

I make a finger gun, pointing it at her. “Bingo, little lady.”

She snorts. “You’re ridiculous. Can we be serious? I need this job, Eli.”

I stifle a grin. “I’ve been serious. It’s you who needs to be ready.”

She nods, walking closer. “I’m ready. I hear you’re the best to learn from. Besides, you know what they say.”

I stare down at her, our eyes locking. If she can keep things civil like they have been for the past couple minutes, we’ll get through this just fine.

“What do they say?” I ask.

“Those who can’t do… teach.” She winks, swiping the ball from my hands and sauntering to the basket.

Bitch.

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