“Please, Alex? If you didn’t know, I just started at this school and would love to see a familiar face in the stands.” He was practically begging.
I could hear my sister in my head screaming at me to say no. Accepting this was the beginning of something, and I did not need the emotional stress of letting in a guy who was actively pretending he didn’t know me. A guy who hadn’t been my friend in years, and refused to give an explanation why that was.
But how could I say no to River Moore?
“Okay, front and center.”
Chapter Eight
RIVER
“Iswear to God, River, if you make us late, I will castrate you!” Carson’s voice echoed through the apartment.
I was running through the building like a chicken with its head cut off, trying to get all my stuff together so we could leave. I picked up my duffel bag and threw it over my shoulder as I hopped to the front door, struggling to put my shoe on as I did. Carson was already in front of the door, completely ready to leave and watching me with a scowl of disapproval.
I stomped my foot on the ground to slide it into the shoe. “You can chill out. I’m ready.”
He scoffed. “We should have left ten minutes ago. Coach is going to have our ass.”
I waltzed past him with a smirk. “Maybe yours, but Coach likes me. Being a couple of minutes late won’t faze him.”
Carson shut the door behind him with a groan. By the time he locked it, I was so far ahead he had to jog to catch up to me. He multitasked, fumbling with his backpack and adjusting his clothes as he moved.
We made it to the stadium only five minutes past the time we were set to meet, so Carson’s complaints were for nothing. We still had downtime before the game. Trainers went from player to player, asking if anyone needed tape or a quick massage to loosen up. I rarely ever bothered with that because I wasn’t convinced that their actions would help my game—it was all in the head, but this time, I hesitated.
Neither of my parents were coming to the scrimmage, and the thought made me feel uneasy. They had always been my biggest supporters, from making T-shirts with my face on it to encouraging me when I was in my head and showing up to every game. This time, when I looked into the stands, they wouldn’t be there, and it was messing with my head.
So, I stuck my leg out and let the trainer wrap tape around my right ankle. Dad used to tell me he always taped his ankle before a game back when he played. Now, I had a piece of him with me.
Coach went over the plays that we’d been drilling since the start of the year. If anyone messed up, we’d all be in for a hell of a lot of conditioning next practice.
Official games did not start until November, so winning or losing the scrimmage wasn’t the end-all be-all. Though, Carson and I learned that the LSSU believed in the superstition that if we lost the first scrimmage, we could kiss March Madness goodbye.
March Madness, also known as the NCAA Tournament, was the championship game for all D1 colleges. Lone Star State University made it last year, but they didn’t win. With the added strength of Carson and I on the team, we had a better shot.
After giving a much-needed pep talk to the team, Coach pulled the starting five aside. He scratched his beard as he stood up tall, trying and failing to meet the height of us surrounding him. “Now, boys, you three have been playing for me since your freshman year. You already know how this goes and what I expect of you, but Moore and Grant are with us now. They’ve gotten used to the practices, but now we’re going to see if they can live up to expectations on the court.”
Salem, our point guard, stood on his tiptoes to wrap a firm arm around Carson’s shoulders. “They’re gonna show up and show out, Coach.”
“Don’t I know it. You five—” he pointed between us all “—you need to communicate. You’re starting off our season, and the crowd’s mood depends on you. That’s not to put pressure on you, but to get you ready. Do not think of this as a scrimmage. This is the NCAA Tournament, and you’d better play like you mean it!”
His finger stayed aimed at us as he let the words sink in. My hand swatted at the back of my neck, sudden chills washing over me. Despite only knowing him for a few months, Coach’s determined words made pride swell in my chest.
Coaches’ eyes fell on Carson. “Grant, I would bet money that you’re taller than every player on their team. It’s one hell of an advantage; use it like I know you can.”
“Yes, Coach,” Carson grunted.
Coach turned to me. “Moore, don’t get in your head with the shots. Your aim is impressive, but hesitation will kill you. Understand?”
My teeth clamped down on my tongue, and I silently cursed myself through the pain. The hesitation wasn’t something I thought anyone had noticed. I did not know where it came from or why it happened, but once I fucked up once, I fucked up the rest of the game.
His bulging eyes wouldn’t leave mine until I nodded.
“Go out there and show them how good you are, how talented you are. Otherwise, the next practice will be hell,” he roared.
“Yes, sir!” we barked in unison.
Coach shouted orders to the rest of the team to get off their asses and get ready for pre-warmups. The best part about pre-warmups was that they were open to the public, so anyone could show up early and watch us practice before the game began. Even with another hour until the start, the stands were halfway filled with people.
