Page 57

THEO

It was hard to believe that we’d finally made it to what was the game of the regular season. We’d spent all season preparing for Point Brook—learning their plays, talking strategy, keeping up with their shit talking.

This was the game.

Instead of going into it nervous, every nerve in my body was lit up with adrenaline.

I knew I needed to go into this game ready for a fight.

It wasn’t going to be an easy win, no matter how much we prepared.

But I knew there wasn’t a single chance I was letting Point Brook and Cam Kerr get bragging rights—mostly because I knew Cam would be insufferable about it.

GJ had been keeping everyone’s energy up from the locker room to warm-ups. By the time we were out on the court to warm-up, it was obvious we were buzzing. It made me optimistic the game would be a good one.

Once warm-ups were done and we had to start clearing the court, GJ threw her arm over my shoulder. “Are you ready?”

“More than anything,” I said .

One of Point Brook’s practice balls came flying in my direction and I caught it. I was about to bounce it back when Cam approached me instead, closing the gap between us.

“Not too close,” GJ threatened and I snorted.

Cam was just as effortlessly cool as I’d always remembered.

We were about the same height and same build, the brunette to my dark blonde.

We were two sides of the same coin in a lot of ways—she was just as loud and competitive on the court as I was, just as prone to collecting techs and picking fights with refs when we were certain we were right.

She just brought it off the court in a way I preferred not to.

We hadn’t been physically in the same room in a long time. I could see in her face that she’d grown up, but also she looked just like how I remembered from last season—and from when we used to play against each other as kids.

I thought about her going through a similar trajectory as me—a little girl growing up with dreams of getting to play in the big leagues.

There were pictures of her floating around online as a child wearing Point Brook T-shirts, posing with Point Brook players after watching them play.

She was the girl who’d gotten exactly what I’d always wanted, the girl I’d spent my entire childhood trying to be.

When it was announced she was going to Point Brook, I’d spent a lot of time wondering what it was that she had that I didn’t. I still didn’t know the answer. But in a lot of ways, it felt really fucking good to know that I’d still come out on top, even after everything .

“You ready for the game, McCall?” Cam asked, her voice deep. Her cocky half-smile was firmly planted on her face as always.

GJ waved her off. “We’re going to the locker room.”

If Cam was offended, she didn’t show it on her face. “There’s no beef here. I just gotta put on a performance. People like a show,” she said. “You’re good, McCall. Looking forward to playing against you.”

GJ was about two seconds away from sticking her tongue out at her or doing something else equally as childish.

But I thought the words were nice. And it was true—I was looking forward to playing against her, too.

Even at our level, it sometimes felt like we were running laps around a lot of the other players we went up against. We didn’t make it to being considered first round picks for nothing; we were the best. And playing against the best and being challenged in that way was a hell of a lot of fun, even if it was also a lot of pressure.

“You too, Kerr,” I said. Cam two-finger saluted me as I tossed the ball back to her. She jogged away to join her team, who was heading back to their locker room.

“I hate everything about her,” GJ said.

I laughed, throwing my head back. “Be careful, you might end up becoming teammates in the future.”

Just as we were about to head down the tunnel to the locker room, I glanced up at the student section.

The stands had been quickly filling with people as we’d been warming up.

It was obvious how excited everyone was about this particular match-up.

Point Brook was a huge draw; getting to see the two top picks of the WNBA draft duke it out was going to inevitably be a lot of fun.

I scanned through all of the faces, looking for one face in particular. There were so many people here, but there was only one person I really cared about watching my game.

But I didn’t see her in her unusual spot in the student section.

When my eyes fell on Iris and an empty seat next to her, my stomach dropped. There wasn’t time to be genuinely upset about Maya not coming, but I knew I’d feel it at some point after the game, once the adrenaline wore off.

I didn’t know what to do next when it came to Maya. I’d already said my piece; I didn’t know at what point I was supposed to accept defeat and when I was supposed to push harder. I’d never really had to chase a girl before. And honestly, it didn’t really seem like she wanted to be chased.

I shook all of it away, knowing that I’d have to deal with my feelings later. My quote for the foreseeable future would have to be: There’s no crying in basketball. Especially with the tournament buzz going from a theoretical, near-future issue to an immediate, right now issue.

After hyping each other up in the locker room and running through our approach and game plan going into the game, we waited to be called out onto the court.

I tried not to get emotional as the stadium lights flashed and the music pumped through the arena and the announcer called out the names of the starting line-ups.

But I really was so lucky to have this. This was everything to me, it always had been.

All of my hard work had led up to a season like this and the guarantee that I’d be going pro.

It was hard for me to accept—or want to accept—that Maya wouldn’t be with me for the next part.

She’d only been around for one season of my college career, but it’d been my best one.

It’d always felt impossible to have a busy schedule and be seeing someone, but Maya made it feel effortless—the early nights in because I had practice, the late nights meeting her back at her place after an away game.

The times I was tired in class, the times I couldn’t text her because it was hard for me to find a second between games and school and travel and brand deals and whatever else.

She never made it seem like it was too much for her.

It seemed like we’d found a routine that worked.

But maybe she’d just been a really good actress.

GJ went up for the tip-off and I brought myself back to the game. Nothing else existed to me right now—it was all about the chess pieces on the court.

GJ got her hand on the ball and sent it toward Mags.

Unsurprisingly, Coach came out with all of the big guns.

For a game like this, she was going to go with her strongest starting five, the same one we’d had pretty much all season.

Me, GJ, Mags, Gemma, Nia—we were a well-oiled machine by this time in the season.

Point Brook was able to keep up, though.

Every time we scored, they seemed to come immediately back with the same momentum.

Balls were rebounded and sent flying down the court, shots were landing left and right.

Even though it was nowhere near the end of the game, the crowd was already practically on their feet, watching every single move carefully.

We were playing the kind of game where no one wanted to leave to use the bathroom or get more snacks; there was nonstop, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it action.

And it felt fucking incredible.

When I had a rhythm like this going, I was certain I could play forever and my body would somehow never get tired.

It was like the most incredible runner’s high of my life; this feeling was what made playing so addictive for me growing up.

I loved the competitive energy and the excitement from the crowd and how I felt when I was playing. I never wanted it to stop.

By halftime, the score was a tight 34-31, with Point Brook holding a slight lead over us. Cam Kerr had been making us work; our defense was having a hard time locking her down and she was killing us both on points and assists.

“It’s annoying how fucking good she is,” Mags said shaking her head as we stood by the bench, ready to run onto the court again for the second half. She squeezed her water bottle into her mouth and tossed it back. “She’s running laps around us.”

“It’s refreshing to have you directing your attitude toward someone else,” I said.

Mags turned to look at me and we exchanged small smiles. “You know I’ll miss you,” she responded.

“You sound almost genuine,” I teased and she punched my shoulder. “I’d say I’ll miss you but I’ll be around. Our seasons won’t overlap so I’ll still have plenty of time to coach you from the stands.”

She groaned. “Okay, never mind. Sentimental moment over.”

I laughed as we headed back into position for the start of the second half.

There’d been a few substitutions throughout the game, but we were back to our starting lineup.

We had to get back out on top; the score was close and I imagined the gap would never get that wide, but being even one point down meant we’d lose it all.

And while this wasn’t the game that would determine if we’d make it to the tournament, it was the game that would decide how we’d fare if— when —we made it that far.

Rolling out into the third quarter, it was obvious Point Brook had gotten a talk in the locker room. They had a renewed sense of energy and were coming out swinging. Cam was dropping three-pointers left and right, creating an increasingly wide-point deficit.