“I have nothing to say to you, Hilton,” I hiss, shooting him an icy glare.
“Can you please hear me out?”
The bruises on his face are starting to fade and I want nothing more than to give him fresh ones. But I’m already on thin ice with Coach.
Reluctantly, I get up from my seat and gesture toward the vending machines in the back corner. “Let’s talk over there.”
Once we’ve stepped away, Lucas stares at the ground and fiddles with his T-shirt. “I want to apologize for my erratic behavior.”
“You think an apology is going to fix anything?” I scoff. “I want nothing to do with you.”
“I’m truly sorry for the way I acted. What I said about Annalise was out of line.” He lifts his eyes to mine and a hint of remorse shines through. “I’m sorry for how I treated you over the years. I’ve always been in love with Annalise, and I got jealous that she chose you over me in high school.”
She didn’t choose. You were never a fucking option.
“I thought I had a chance with her when I ran into her again and found out she was single. She ended it with me the day after Chandler’s birthday party. She said she didn’t see us as anything more than friends.”
Annalise never told me when she ended things with Lucas. But knowing that she realized her feelings for me that day filled me with immense joy.
“I knew that wasn’t the only reason. I saw the way she was looking at you that night. I was a fool to think that I could ever compete with you. I just want you to know that I am truly sorry. For everything. I hope one day we can start over and be friends. Or at least become acquainted with one another.” He extends his hand to me. “Let’s put this behind us.”
He should get an Oscar for this performance, because I almost believe it. But I know his apologies are far from genuine. He hated me for years and now, all of a sudden, he has achange of heart? I don’t buy his bullshit for a second. He will always be a snake.
I want to tell him to drop out of the NBA and move far away from San Francisco so I never have to see his pathetic fucking face again—but I choose to bite my tongue.
“For the sake of the team, I will be amicable with you. But you and I? We willneverbe friends,” I snarl.
Lucas shoves his hand back in his pocket and his mask slips off. “Here I am, trying to be the better person, but of course you want to be immature and hold grudges.”
My fists clench at my sides, and red-hot rage starts building in me. I take deep breaths to simmer it down and walk back toward my friends. I refuse to take the bait.
Andrés and Elijah ask me what the conversation was about, and I fill them in. They both agree that Lucas’s apology is fake and he can’t be trusted.
After thirty minutes, Chandler’s parents come out to the waiting area to let us know we can go see him. Coach and Darius go in first, and I go in after with the guys.
Chandler is resting in bed, hooked up to an IV pump with his arm in a sling. His normally kempt blonde hair is disheveled and there are dark circles under his eyes. He is usually so full of energy and life, so it’s hard seeing him like this. But I’m grateful that he’s conscious and not hooked up to a ventilator.
His hospital room resembles a studio apartment. There’s a pull-out couch on the side, a 65-inch TV, and a fridge and microwave in the corner.
“Hey, guys,” he says, managing a weak smile. “I feel so loved, having the whole team come to see me.”
We all take a seat on the couch next to him.
“Of course, man. We were all worried about you,” I say.
“I was scared shitless when I received the news,” Elijah says.
“I hate that I won’t be playing with you guys,” Chandler sighs. “This happened at theworsttime.”
“It is unfortunate, but we’re just glad you’re okay. How are you feeling right now?” Andrés asks.
Chandler holds up a control with a red button that’s attached to a pump. “This thing has been a lifesaver. When I’m in pain, I just press this button and it delivers morphine. That way I don’t have to bother the nurse.”
“Is your nurse hot, by any chance?” Elijah asks.
“Really, dude?” Andrés shoots him a look and Elijah shrugs.
“Yeah, if you’re into fifty-year-old men with receding hairlines.” Chandler grins and a collective laugh ripples through the room.
