Page 10 of On Merit Alone

Chapter Seven

Ira

You know that feeling when someone’s watching you?

Not to be conceited, but I got that feeling all the time. No, this wasn’t arrogance. People are literally watching me all the time. On the court, out in public, even other athletes in the Mountaineer Complex seemed to watch me sometimes.

I understood. I was a public figure. I’d signed up to be watched. And for the most part, I was used to it.

But there was something about the current feeling that was throwing me off. On top of the prickling sensation that whoever had their eyes on me was doing more than just ogling a semi-celebrity, I felt like I was being studied. Which was sort of creepy when there was no one in plain sight.

Usually, fans wanted to be seen. Creepers didn’t.

And the craziest part about this was I’d felt it before.

More specifically, I’d felt this same feeling a few nights ago during our game.

I didn’t usually peek into the stands when I was playing.

There was always too much going on for me to want to find somebody out there, plus I had a game to focus on.

But that night I didn’t have to search for anyone.

It was as if, on instinct, my senses pulled my attention straight toward the only person who could have been giving me that feeling.

The only person who could make me feel watched , even in a fully packed stadium of twenty-plus thousand others doing just that.

I knew it was her even then. Because Merit had a way of looking that was more like staring holes into you. And there she sat in the crowd, staring.

Her face was unreadable, not like I was worried about that anyway.

But just—usually, people came to a basketball game to enjoy it.

She didn’t look to be enjoying it, though.

And coming off my conversation with her in the office lobby, I had the distinct and totally random thought that Merit Jones probably didn’t enjoy many things.

Or maybe she did, but she didn’t let herself fully feel it. And I was so curious as to why.

Now, as I worked on shooting my usual pre-practice warm-up shots, I had a sneaking suspicion that I knew who was causing the feeling again.

“Are you going to show your face or keep watching me from your hiding place all day?” I called out into the mostly empty gym. No one else was around. I usually came out the hour before practices to get my shots in, so it would be at least that long before my team started showing up.

The Mountaineer Stadium and Sports Complex consisted of an arena and three practice courts.

The majority of our practices were held on the practice courts, but like Merit, I liked to get down to the arena whenever I could.

And seeing as the biggest events happening here lately have all been basketball related, the courts were still intact and usable whenever I came by.

Somewhere in the stands to the right of me, I heard a small crashing noise. It was followed quickly by a hushed curse and the sound of feet shuffling around. I don’t know why, but my lip curled in immediate amusement .

This girl was something, alright.

“Merit,” I said between dribbles. “If we keep meeting like this, I’m going to have to report you. Stalking is a serious offense.”

Instantly, she appeared, popping out from behind the stands and spreading her hands along her hips.

My smirk remained as she came into view.

Her huffiness didn’t surprise me considering her adamant denial when I teased her in the offices.

She wasn’t much of a joker, that’s for sure.

Which made her all the more fun to mess with.

“I'm not stalking you,” she called from her spot in the distance.

“You were literally hiding in the stands watching me. That is textbook stalking.”

A beat of silence passed in which I could hear her thinking. But she stepped up to the challenge like I was learning she always did. “Whatever! You don’t own the court. I work here too.”

Lifting a shoulder, I agreed. But I doubted she could even tell from the distance she was keeping. Inclining my head, I tried to get a peek at her expression from so far away. No dice. The outskirts of the court had this cast of darkness, and the stands weren’t lit up either.

“Why don’t you come out?” I asked, surprising myself with the invitation. I was supposed to be practicing. But she clearly had a reason for being here, so… “Or are you really up to some shady shit?”

“No!” she grumbled, her feet moving instantly in my direction.

So easy to rile up.

Watching her as she stalked her way across the court, I noticed more about her than I did when we were in the office.

Her long, lean legs looked smooth as they stepped into the lights.

Toned, under her team-issued practice shorts.

Her stride was easy, only becoming easier the further she stepped out on the court like she was stepping into her element.

Her long braids were pulled up into a high ponytail away from her face, a headband placed over the front of it to secure it backward.

As she walked, the long tail swished from side to side behind her; and when she stopped way too far away from me to be friendly, it flipped over her shoulder, laying there with as much attitude as I assumed she was ready to give me.

“Will you stop it with the stalker stuff already?” she asked predictably.

I picked up a ball to busy my hands, balancing it on one side and then the other as I tried to hide my amusement. “Stop stalking me then.”

“Ira, I—” she stopped, but for some reason, I didn’t want her to. Not when she said my name so hesitantly and looked at me so seriously.

For whatever reason I wanted to let her know that it was okay to talk to me. That I’d enjoy a smile too. But I kept it to myself.

“You, what? C’mon, I was kidding, Six. Stop taking everything so seriously,” I said.

She bit her lip, drawing my attention to the contrasting colors of them. A mix of dusty rose and neutral brown that distracted me. I cleared my throat as I tore my eyes away from them. She was saying something. Something that had her tightening her stance and wringing her hands just slightly.

“Well…” she hesitated. Shutting her eyes tight, she blurted, “I was sort of stalking you. The other day, I mean. Not today.”

I couldn’t help it. I sputtered a laugh. “I don’t think it matters which day , Merit. You were what , now?”

Groaning, she covered her face, embarrassed. “It wasn't like that! I promise.”

“Please tell me what other way ‘I was stalking you’ could possibly be,” I pressed, enjoying this more than I should. “It seems pretty cut and dry.”

“Well, it’s not,” she said, dropping her hands and beginning to pace. “I was honestly in the office the other day because I had a meeting, and I honestly had no idea those were your shoes. ”

“Uh-huh.”

“But then I heard some people talking about how you were there and I?—”

“Waited for me in the shadows while staring at pictures of me on your phone,” I said.

Curiously, the same look that crossed her face when I teased her a little too much in the lobby and she tried to walk away, crossed her face now.

It was obvious she was bothered because her entire face fell, morphing from expressive and spirited to complete stone.

Her posture went rigid, and her jaw clenched visibly tight.

She was like a robot as she pivoted her shoulders and began her escape.

Shit . I didn’t know how little or how far I could push with this girl. Dropping the ball, I jogged up to her and lightly grasped her shoulders.

“Woah, woah.” I stopped her.

She halted, but her shoulders hitched at our contact.

Her elbows went in tight to herself, and her head ducked just a bit.

I released her immediately but didn’t miss the feeling of my face constricting, my eyebrows pulling down in confusion.

Rounding her front, I held up my hands as a sign of apology.

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “You were saying.”

“Nothing,” she said, moving to step around me. “I wasn’t saying anything important.”

I stepped with her, trying to stay her movements—I swear she was like a caged animal. “Woah, hey. Easy, Six—take it easy. I’m here, you’re here. You might as well spit it out.”

She crossed her arms around her middle as she looked away. Unlike the challenging way she crossed them over her chest, this was much more vulnerable and avoidant. I resisted the urge to step into her line of sight, and after a handful of seconds, I let out a sigh.

“Alright, well,” I said, pausing to see if she would talk. She didn’t, so I puffed more air. “If there’s nothing, I gotta get back to practice. ”

A few more seconds and still nothing. She actually turned her head further away from me, and I couldn’t help the frown that scrunched my face. She’s the one who literally admitted to stalking me, and somehow she was playing shy?

I wouldn’t make her uncomfortable, though. I’d probably done enough of that already between the time I’d given her unsolicited advice like some jerk and the two times I’d teased her enough to make her want to run away. I could take a hint. Leave Merit Jones alone .

But about halfway back to my side of the court, I heard her speak again. “I was waiting for you. But only because I wanted to tell you that I took your advice. You know, from that other night.”

“Oh,” I said cautiously. I wouldn’t say I was disappointed that’s all she wanted.

I was just put off. Especially because she already brought this up, and just like before, the mention of me being a jerk that night made me feel bad.

It made me want to retreat like her. Picking up my discarded ball, I continued toward the hoop, suddenly desperate for the slight space between us.

“Yeah, about that. I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me that night.

I don’t usually run my mouth so much about other people's business.”