The last thing I needed was to give Dad another reason to ream my ass. I was still feeling the sting from being chewed out over the heart on my face.
“This is your year, Dalton. Everything we worked for is within our grasp. No NBA team is going to take you seriously if you don’t stop dicking around.”
“Don’t you mean everything I worked for?” I rarely spoke up when Dad was giving me shit, but after ten years of hearing it, I was pissed off.
“You don’t think everything I’ve done for you has been work? All the practices, A.A.U. tournaments, staying on top of the coaches, making sure the recruiters knew about you. You think you’d be where you are if it wasn’t for me? I’ll be damned if you’re going to waste the talent we spent all these years building.”
This was the extent of our conversations anymore. He was the reason Courtney and I had stopped being friends when we were twelve. He’d called me a fairy boy, because my best friend was a girl. He pulled me away from her and made sure all my spare time was spent on basketball. I thought once I got into Michigan he’d get off my ass once and for all. I should have known better. Now it was all about the NBA.
That was still my dream regardless of Dad’s bullshit, but at times I hated it all. I could walk away, but what would that solve? That was why I enjoyed the junior summer clinics I had taught for the past few years. It drove him absolutely nuts that I would “waste my time,” as he would say, but it was how I stayed connected with what I truly enjoyed about playing basketball. For the kids I coached, it was still a game. Not the business it had become for me.
With one last longing look at Courtney, who had fallen back to sleep, I crept from the house. The only thing keeping me going was that I’d be seeing her again later that night.
As luck would have it, I didn’t get to see her again that night or the rest of the week. Our crazy schedules made meeting up damned near impossible. Between classes, her job, and basketball practice, I was becoming increasingly annoyed. I was tempted to duck out of practice, but Coach would send out a search party and then have my head. Especially since we had the conference tournament ahead of us. My concentration was a mess. All I wanted to do was be with Courtney. Instead I was at practice going through endless drills I could do in my sleep, and yet I also felt like I was letting the team down. They expected my leadership, and my focus was elsewhere.
Courtney didn’t complain about our lack of time together nearly as much as I did. She reassured me that once the season ended, we’d have plenty of time to connect. In the meantime, we made do with endless text messages. I planned on hanging out at Gruby’s on Thursday night while she worked, but with more practices and team meetings, I just couldn’t find the time.
Friday, I was on a charter bus for the two-hour drive to Indianapolis for the conference tournament. The only solace I found was in Courtney’s text messages.
You’ve only been gone for an hour and I miss you already.
Not half as much as I miss you.
I wouldn’t bet on it.
How was work?
Slow tip day.
That sucks.
That’s all right. We’ll be busy for your game.
U work too hard.
Such is the life of a poor college student.
If I was already playing in the NBA, U wouldn’t have to work another day. The text was intended as a joke, but as soon as I hit SEND, I regretted it. We’d only been together for a week. Knowing how skittish Courtney was, I figured a text like that could send her running for cover. I was in the process of typing that I was joking when she sent a reply.
I’m sure you’ll have a whole harem of women to take care of by then. I better not quit my day job.
Obviously she was kidding, but with all the pressure I’d been feeling, it annoyed me. For whatever reason, she still doubted that I could be exclusive. Our relationship was still new, but I wondered how long I would have to work to earn her trust. To make her realize that what I felt for her was special. Somehow I would have to show her. Mom always said actions spoke a thousand words or some bullshit like that. That definitely applied to me and Courtney. I changed the topic and we continued to text for another half hour until it was time for her to get ready for work.
I didn’t get a chance to text her the next day since practice bled into some media obligations and then pregame preparations. The team hit the court and as I made my way through warm-up drills, I wondered if Courtney would be watching the game at Gruby’s.
“Dalton,” a loud voice boomed behind me. I turned to see Dad standing near the bench. He clapped his hands, urging me to focus.
“Come on, Dalton, this is your night,” Coach Riley yelled from under the basket.
“I’m cool, Coach.” I launched toward the rim, spinning into a reverse dunk for good measure, which elicited a few cheers from the crowd.
Maybe it was fate, or then again, it could have just been me dragging ass, but the first quarter of the game wasn’t my best effort. The second quarter wasn’t much better. I was laying up enough bricks to build a house. At halftime, I got my ass handed to me by Coach, who reminded me I wasn’t an NBA star yet and I’d better get to work. Collin shot me a knowing look but kept his mouth shut.
The second half went much better as I stepped up my game. That was why I was so successful. I refused to lose. The team jumped on my shoulders as I drained four buckets in a row, pushing us past the opposing team we’d been trailing the entire night.
In the end, the game came down to my final shot. For an instant, I was afraid it wouldn’t fall. The ball circled the outer edge of the rim, teasing me and the onlooking fans who waited on the edges of their seats. With one final rotation, the ball rolled inward through the net. The rest of the team erupted off the bench as the cheerleaders jumped up and down in celebration.
The players clapped me on the back, waving towels in the air. Looking up in the stands, I could see Dad’s frown from where I stood.
chapter eleven
Courtney
My stomach was in my throat the entire time I watched the game. Dalton was having an off night. My chest pinched uncomfortably each time he missed a shot. Watching the game surrounded by groaning fans made the experience even harder. I knew how important basketball was to Dalton and I found myself silently cheering him on. The second half of the game he seemed to come alive and they were able to pull ahead of the other team. The noise level in Gruby’s went up to a whole new level as the restaurant erupted with cheers with each basket. In the end, the last shot was up to Dalton. We all waited with bated breath as the ball slowly circled the rim before sliding through the net. Everyone in the restaurant roared with approval.
Amanda gave me a crushing hug as she jumped up and down with excitement. My own happiness waned when I saw the dejected look on Dalton’s face on the big screen. He was being interviewed on the crowded court by the sideline reporter, but he didn’t look as happy as you would think he’d be. His shoulders slumped and his face was completely defeated as the camera showed him jogging off toward the locker room. It was obvious something was wrong.
I had to fight the urge to grab my phone from my pocket. Even if I called to check on him, he probably wouldn’t answer anyway. His phone would likely be turned off. Besides, I wasn’t sure he would want to hear from me. Maybe our relationship hadn’t reached that point. Things were moving fast for us, but we’d only had three dates and one night of unforgettable sex. Technically we’d only been together a few weeks. I figured I’d just call him later after my shift was over.