Quick hug. Quick hug.Unlike the rest of the guys, who set their hand on my back and pat it once when they return the hug, Finn’s arm wraps around my waist. I inhale sharply, grateful for the water jug between us. I use it to pull away from him. My heart’s thundering in my ears when I meet his gaze. As I move to turn away, he grabs my wrist, and even though he lets go quickly, the look in his eyes makes my stomach flip.
“I texted you.”
I take another step back. “I know.”
His jaw tightens and he looks over my head, toward the court. I turn around and head over there, determined not to let him make me feel any type of way about this. I shake my arms and legs when I reach Tiago and get into competition mode. I always want to win, but knowing these people are here to watch sets me on fire. We establish the usual rules, and I run the ball down the court.
“Half court,” he says behind me.
I shoot it, make it, and raise an eyebrow at him. “Fine, but the shot counts.”
“Likefuckit does. That was full court and we’re playing half.”
“I swear to god, T, if you don’t count that shit, I’m never playing with you again.”
“You are such a poor sport.” He laughs, and then laughs harder when I launch the ball at his chest.
“What happened?” Dame shouts as they walk around to stand closer to the court.
“Nothing,” I say, at the same time that Tiago says, “Unsportsmanlike conduct.”
I narrow my eyes at him and growl when he starts dribbling again and bumps me with his shoulder. Unsportsmanlike conduct, my ass. He’s a damn cheater and he knows it. It’s comical since the man is better than me, but I can beat him one-on-one. I’m shorter than many of my opponents, and since I rarely jump to block a ball, I have to rely on other skills. Dad taught me that skill isn’t useful without quick thinking. I’m good at reading my opponent’s body, the way they move, the way they handle the ball, and I’m always one step ahead. When I get the ball back, I shoot a three. Tiago takes it and starts going back to the other side, but I manage to steal it from behind and score another three. We go back and forth like this until I score 21 points and beat him by one.
“One point,” Tiago says, hands on his knees, as he takes a breath.
“A win is a win,” I say mockingly, the way he did yesterday.
I laugh and run away when he lunges at me. I manage to dodgehim, only to run right into Finn, becauseof course. He grabs my shoulders to keep me from falling back, and when I look up at him, it’s not the expected scowl that I find, but an expression of respect and appreciation that makes my heart skip a few beats.
“You’ve got a killer three-point shot.”
“Thanks.” I grin.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he says when I take a step back and go to turn.
I stop and look at him over my shoulder. “Does it matter?”
“Does what matter?” Hamilton asks, walking over.
We both ignore him, and Finn says, “Yes.”
My heart skips another beat and I force myself to tuck away the emotions that threaten to consume me. Pretending nonchalance, I uncap my bottle and drink water.
“It shouldn’t,” I say, looking at him as I’m capping the water again.
“But it does.”
I stare at him, wishing I could read whatever is going through that complicated head of his. Finally, I shake my head. For a split second, I think he’s going to say something, maybe apologize for trying to blackmail me, but Damian walks over and interrupts.
“I told you she was good,” he says proudly.
“I’m going to buy your jersey,” Will says.
I smile. “I expect to see you at one of my games then.”
We all talk for a while. The only one who doesn’t contribute to the conversation is Finn, who’s watching me and Tiago like a hawk. A part of me wonders how long it’ll take for him to get bored of this little game and move on. The idiotic side of me hopes he never does.
18
