I watch Grant walk off the court with Will, the crowd breaking out in collectiveboo’s at the ref's decision to throw them out of the game. My feet move without my permission, the need to make sure Grant is okay overshadowing the implications that come with doing so. I reach the door that separates the arena from the locker rooms, telling security that I’m family to one of the players who was just thrown out. Luckily, they believe me and let me through.
From all the years I’ve spent hanging around here waiting on Will to finish a game or practice, I know this facility like the back of my hand. That’s why it shouldn’t surprise me that when I round the corner that leads to the team’s locker room I come face to face with Grant and Will walking through the tunnel that leads back from the court. Yet here I am, at a complete loss for words as my head frantically files through different excuses for why I’m here.
“Gen…?” Will’s eyes narrow in confusion as he stares at me from down the long corridor. Grant, however, doesn’t seem confused at all; he’s instantly draped in relief the moment he spots me, all the tension leaving his body, his lips beginning to twitch into a smile. Even through the panic of trying to explain this to Will, I register how badly I want to mirror him, to let out the breath I’ve been holding, check him for any injuries, and let him wrap his arms around me. But I can’t. Not yet.
I try to signal Grant with my eyes, silently telling him that I need him to go along with this, that I feel all the things he’s feeling, but that now is not the time. That the universe is playing a cruel trick on us because if anyone else were in this tunnel things would be different. But some things can only be communicated with words and that’s made obvious as I walk straight to Will and force myself to look him over instead.
“What happened out there? Are you okay?” I widen my eyes knowing fully thatWillis fine.
“Yeah, Genny. I’m good. But that’s a good question—” Will looks over at Grant frustration lining his features. “What the fuck, man?” The team player who I found so impressive out on the court seems to have completely disappeared as blame and anger replace whatever sportsman-like mask Will previously had on.
Grant looks at me, trying to decide how much to divulge, and he must finally see the warning in my eyes, understanding shadowing his own. “He was talking shit about a girl in the stands and I don’t know, Cap—I snapped.”
My face heats as Grant’s gaze sears me, his eyes frantically searching for that freshly sewn thread between us. The seconds that pass feel like an eternity, Grant’s eyes scouring my face for a sign that he didn’t imagine this new connection. I know Will can see that there’s something unspoken happening and even though I wish I didn’t, I can’t help but feel exposed as I turn my eyes back to him.
“Well, I’m glad you guys are okay.” I try to make my voice sound innocent but I can hear the guilt reverberating through it. The lie of why I’m really down here sitting in front of the three of us makes the air feel heavy. Will looks from me to Grant, trying to decipher the energy shift but before he can Grant pushes past him.
“I’ll leave you two to it.” He gives Will a small nod and I know I should feel relieved, thankful that he didn’t just tell Will everything, but the slight dip in his shoulders, the same one he had at Vida’s, has all the cells in my body clamoring to be back in his vicinity.
“What wasthat?” Will asks once the door leading to the locker room shuts behind Grant.
“What was what?” I fein innocence and it takes everything in me to meet his gaze.
“Come on—you guys were basically eye fucking each other.”
I let out a laugh as if to insinuate he’s being ridiculous but it’s forced, and he knows me well enough to notice. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re friends.” I don’t let my gaze waver, no matter how obvious the lie is.
“Gen—I saw who that asshole was talking about on the court. He was literally looking right at you.” My throat tightens as I take a breath through my nose.
“Will, you’re being crazy. I?—”
“So you’d tell me if something was going on?” he asks, cutting me off.
“Nothingis going on.”
I can see something simmering beneath the clinch of his fist, the way his jaw ticks and part of me wishes he would just release the accusation clearly begging to be let out. Blow our decade long friendship all over this gym floor. At least then I’d know he sees me. Know he cares.
Instead, he lets out a long breath. “Fine, Gen. I’m gonna shower.” He walks past me, leaving me to stare after him in the fluorescent lights of the hallway. Wondering why I’m more sad than relieved.
9
Grant
The steady beat of whatever song Andy turned on hums through the pretty empty locker room, most of the guys having awkwardly beelined to the showers after the loss we suffered today. A loss I contributed to by letting Gen cloud my head. Will barely looked at me when he was called back to the coach’s office, the one I just left with luckily only a slap on the wrist. Part of me wishes I didn’t leave Gen alone out there, wonders what was said. The other part is stuck on how I let myself lose control at all, how this girl seems to have barreled into my life and crowded all available brain space. Today, out on the court, I felt like I was under some sort of spell, like she possessed me, the need to defend her impossible to ignore.
It was obvious that she came to see if I was okay, which just barely made up for the fact that she, again, acted like I didn’t exist when she saw Will. Still, there was this thick tension in the air that only a total moron would fail to notice. Will is a lot of things but sadly, stupid isn’t one ofthem. I saw as his eyes marked Gen and I, suspicion so prevalent in them that I swear Gen turned a shade of red I didn’t think humanly possible.
I swipe the towel I’m holding roughly over my face, needing for one of the showers to open up so I can physically scrub this feeling away. Will comes out of the coach's office, swinging open his locker only a few away from my own. All the starters are in the same area of the locker room, for team bonding or some shit. I’d rather be with the rookies than next to some of these assholes.
“Yooo.” Josiah comes in, freshly showered in a pair of sweatpants and a towel still clutched in his hand. I’m opening my own locker to grab my body wash when another hand slams it closed beside me.Fucking Scott.
“That fight was insane! What even happened out there?” Josiah's tone does not match my mood or Will’s.
“Grant, you fucking stud!” Scott slaps my chest and I look down at him, my jaw set in a hard line. “You knocked that bitch out! You gonna get some tonight?” He winks, smiling so wide that part of me feels bad for him. I’m not sure if Scott was dropped on the head as a child or what, but he’s the worst. Somehow, for a man who's likely never gotten laid, he feels he can disrespect any woman who crosses his path.
“Incel,” Will says under his breath and I can’t help the slight upward tick at the corner of my mouth.
“Hey, not for long man—I’m about to get it after the Athletics gala.” Scott shuts his own locker and takes a long sip of his water bottle wiping his arm sloppily over his wet upper lip.
