Page 12 of Game Changer

CLAY

“This is going to be embarrassing for you,” I growl.

“Try it.” Jay’s down in a defensive stance, eyes tracking my every move as though he’s a snake charmer and I’m a cobra.

“You’re not ready.”

“I was ready yesterday.” He reaches to try to snatch the ball midair from between my knees, and I pull my dribble tighter and grin.

“You waiting for retirement?” He demands, shaking his head and making his braids sway. “Come on.”

It’s a game within a game. The one-on-one battle of strategy, agility, and strength between offense and defence.

Jay might be one of the top guards in the world, but I’m one of the top scorers.

And I hate to lose.

He’s half a second late, and I weave past him, driving to the basket.

Atlas comes off his man to cover me, his icy eyes intent.

Miles waves. “I’m open!”

The basket looms just past Atlas’s fingertips.

I take the step back.

Swish.

The other guys on the court all groan, and I shake my head at Jay. “You can’t guard me.”

My friend and teammate rolls his eyes. “Missed you this summer, too, man. Now, let’s see you do it again.”

We run another play that ends with the ball in the basket off my fingertips.

Swish.

There’s nothing like the feeling of the perfect shot. From the second the ball leaves your fingers, you know.

It’s physics.

Music.

Poetry.

Every subject I didn’t give a shit about in school.

Swish.

Not a lot you can count on in this world, but the perfect arc of that ball from your fingertips when you’ve done it a million times before…

That’s the real deal.

Jay tries to wrench the ball from my hands.

“Foul!” Miles shouts.

“Like hell,” Jay bites out.

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