She flashes me a quick smile, and I double back, speeding off through the woods, my foot hovering over the brake for a split second, tempted to hang back for her.
Dude—no.
I push the thought away and hit the gas.
BY THE TIME I GETto the gym, I’m a bundle of jitters. I jump out of the car and sprint over to the court, where the game is already mid-flow and Donovan is shooting me a disappointed look that makes my insides clench.
Coach catches my eye. “Conley…! Get your sorry ass over here!”
I trot over to join him on the bench.
“I’m sorry, Coach.” I hang my head. “I got held up.”
He peers at my mouth. “Is that fuckinglipstick?”
I brush my hand over my lips. I hate myself so hard right now.
“You know the draft is in a few months, don’t you?”
I nod.
“You better play like Michael Fucking Jordan today, kid.”
Sounds easy enough.
“Unless you plan on staying stuck on the subs bench for the rest of your life.”
He’s so pissed at me, but that’s nothing compared to the self-loathing burning at my edges. I usually pride myself on being capable, dependable—this is the kind of fuckup that gets me breaking out in hives.
“Get your shit together—I mean it.”
Coach jerks his chin at the court, and I race over to join the team, pushing all the toxic thoughts out of my head. I need to tap into my inner top-tier athlete and give him space to shine.
“Better grab your tissues, boys!” I yell. “You’re about to get your asses handed to you.”
One of our opponents laughs. “Let’s see that pretty smile, Conley—just so we can wipe it off your face.”
I bare my teeth at him and return his handshake. “Love the glass-half-full attitude, Finn. It’s cute.”
Don tosses me the ball and as soon as I catch it, I’m sparking. There’s no such thing as a “low-stakes game” to me—just opportunities to win every time. And I plan on making the guys forget I was ever late.
With every minute that drifts by, every basket I sink, my guilt fades, and by the time we win the game, I’m golden.Thank fuck for that.A defeat would’ve wrecked me.
Finn ambles over to join us. “Okay, guys. How ’bout a round on you? Make up for that beating we took…”
Don grins. “Sounds fair to me.”
“How ’bout the Java?” I say, draining my water.
“Awesome—see you there.”
On our way to the bar, Don decides to grill me hard.
“What happened back there, dude? Youneverforget practice.”
I bat back a flicker of annoyance. I was hoping we’d just discuss this later.
“It’s hard, juggling the whole mentoring thing, that’s all. It’s a little overwhelming.”
