Typically after a game, we make our way straight to the locker room, but since it’s the last home game, we linger on the court letting the seniors soak up the moment. I try and do the same just in case. I don’t really think I can give up another year of this, but if the right opportunity landed in my lap… well, I don’t know what I’d do.
Z and Wes hug at half court. It’s a bittersweet moment for them as seniors and because of all the shit Wes has been through this year.
Nathan bumps my shoulder. “Ready to party?”
“Yeah, gotta do some stuff first.” I nod toward the section my parents sit and I know he assumes I mean hang out with the family. I don’t bother correcting him. “I’ll see you at the house later. Try to keep things under control.”
I glance over at the sidelines looking for Katrina and Christian to let them know I’m gonna shower before we head out, but they’re nowhere in sight. My family hovers on the sidelines, Dad talking to the athletic director and my mom watching me.
“Hey, Ma. Seen Katrina? I was supposed to meet her after the game.”
Her brow furrows. “She said goodbye and headed up the stairs. Maybe she thought—”
But I don’t stick around to hear the end of that sentence.
“I’ll call you later,” I call over my shoulder and take the stairs up out toward the exits as fast as the crowd will allow. My back is patted, and people call out to me. I mumble my thanks and keep going with a singular focus. I run a circle around the top level, but they’re nowhere in sight. I finally give up and head down to the locker room where I can grab my phone and text her, but there’s one already waiting for me.
Kitty: Congratulations on the game! Christian had a blast, thank you so much! We need to take a raincheck on this afternoon, but I’ll text you later.
Well fuck, I got blown off. That fucking stings.
I’m still pissy as I pull into the garage. Music is blasting and it annoys me for no good reason. My head is all messed up and I feel like an idiot for thinking I could convince Katrina to let me in with floor level tickets and some shitty Valley merchandise.
Nathan is in the kitchen when I walk through and takes one look at me and passes me the unopened bottle of Jack.
“Thanks. Seen Z?”
I missed him after the game and want to make sure I talk to him before I get too deep into this bottle.
“No, but I’ve got a pretty good idea.”
I nod and take the bottle with me upstairs. Z’s door is shut, but I can hear the faint sound of music coming from inside. I knock. “Z?”
“Come in.”
I open the door and find Z lying back on his bed, shooting a basketball in the air. “Missing the party downstairs.”
He doesn’t smile at my joke, which it obviously is because Z misses nearly every party.
He glances at me before he sends the ball sailing back in the air. “What are you doing up here?”
“You got Sara Icoa’s number?”
He stops and sits up. “Are you thinking of entering the draft?”
I unscrew the top of the bottle and take a swig before answering. “I don’t know, but Coach thinks I should keep my options open and the way next year is looking it might be best.”
“I thought you wanted to finish your degree?”
I lift one shoulder. “A degree isn’t really necessary for what I want to do.”
Play pro ball and then be a broadcaster. The degree is important for my parents and there is something special in being a second-generation graduate from the college my dad helped build.
He grabs his phone. “I’ll text you Sara’s number, but I’m meeting up with her next week if you want to tag along. I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to answer whatever questions you have.”
“Cool. Thanks.” I feel the vibration of my phone in my pocket and resist looking at it. It’s been going off every few minutes. I’m sure my absence downstairs has been noticed because I’m never not in the center of a party at The White House.
I don’t make any move to leave and Z lifts a brow. “Any particular reason you’re up here asking me about this now instead of getting lit and making out with half of the women’s tennis team?”
I chuckle. It was the women’s beach volleyball team and it was one blurry night that I don’t even remember.
“Ever feel like you’re not the person everyone thinks you are?”
He regards me seriously. “Every day.”
I don’t know why Z keeps to himself the way he does. I’ve never pressed him on it. Guess I assumed it was his way of keeping his focus on ball and his goals, but now I wonder if it’s something else entirely that keeps him up here while the rest of us are enjoying our thirty seconds of fame.
“Only a few months left, might want to consider sucking it up and enjoying what’s left of college.”
He shakes his head. “I’d rather stay up here.”
“Suit yourself.”
I leave Z to do whatever it is he does locked away in his room and I head down to the party.
Downstairs, Blair spots me from across the room and dashes away from Wes toward me. “I heard Katrina and Christian were at the game.” Her voice goes up ten octaves as she talks animatedly with both hands. “Can I assume that was your doing?”
When I nod, Blair’s smile is nuclear.
“I think I underestimated you, but I’m a little disappointed you’re here when you know there’s no way she can bring Christian to this sort of thing.”
“Yeah, well it doesn’t matter.”
She crosses her arms as clear a sign as any that she’s not budging until I fill her in.
I take another drink. Liquid courage. I’ve caught feelings and this sucks.
“We were supposed to go out after the game, but she canceled via text.”
“And she didn’t say why?”
“Nope.”
“Did you ask?” Blair presses.
I shake my head and she lets out an exasperated sigh that somehow still sounds chipper and upbeat. “There are a million totally legit reasons why she might have bailed. Instead of sulking around here getting wasted, why don’t you ask her? Better yet, go over there and talk to her in person.”
The fact that Blair is trying to get me and Katrina together makes me chuckle. “What happened to me not being good enough for your friends?”
“Oh, you’re still not anywhere good enough for her, but I’m really enjoying watching you fall all over yourself trying.”
I glare, but she just flashes a sweet smile. “If you’re not willing to risk it all, then you don’t want it bad enough.”
Cock an eyebrow and take another generous swig from the bottle.
That doesn’t deter Blair from continuing to speak her peace. “When’s the last time you gave anything but basketball your A-game?”
“I don’t know.”
Lie. I remember. And it’s exactly why I’m pissed I put myself in this position twice.