Tyler
The ball slammed hard against the ground with a sharp echo.
“Again!” Coach barked.
I caught the pass from Aaron and dribbled toward the free-throw line, my shoes squeaking against the polished floor.
The ball slipped out of my hands for the third time and landed with a loud thud, rolling past my foot.
“Sinclair!” Coach’s whistle shrieked through the gym.
“You planning to play basketball today or just audition for a circus act?”
Low chuckles rippled across the court.
“I got it,” I muttered, jogging after it even though I clearly didn’t.
Normally, practice was the one place my head stayed clear.
The one place where everything else faded, and it was just the ball, the hoop, and the court.
But my brain refused to cooperate today.
The gym smelled like sweat, rubber, and the faint sweetness of whatever cleaning spray the janitor used.
But nothing stuck with me because my mind was stuck in the hallway.
On Sydney’s face when I stepped up to her locker.
“Do you…do you need something?” Sydney’s voice had been quiet—cautious, like she expected a punchline to follow.
And you know what?
She’d been right.
I dribbled harder this time—at least I tried—pivoting and taking the shot.
But the ball just bounced off the rim.
I missed.
“Jesus, Sinclair.” Michael snorted.
“Your grandma shoots better.”
”Shut up,” I muttered.
I jogged back to position, running a hand through my hair.
Alright, you caught me.
I wasn’t actually looking for Brooklyn.
But what would you have me do when Sydney was in my mind all through the night and I just couldn’t help but crave hearing her talk.
And not just the quiet sorry or excuse me, she muttered to people in the hallway or cafeteria.
I wanted her to talk to me.
I swear I hadn’t meant for it to go that way.
But then Aaron’s stupid voice had cut through the hallway.
“Flirting with the fat girl?”
And suddenly everyone was looking, waiting for what they expected me to say.
So I’d done what I did best—made it worse.
“Sinclair!” Coach’s whistle pierced through the gym.
“Eyes on the court!”
”Yeah,” I muttered.
The ball was tossed toward me again.
I caught it automatically and moved toward the basket.
“Girls, Brooklyn is throwing a party for her birthday.” Tracy announced, setting her pom-poms on the ground.
They were supposed to be practicing on the sidelines, but somehow, they’d done nothing since we started. Find the original chapter at novelping.com.
“Really?” one girl gasped.
Squeals followed.
“Finally!
think it’s overdue at this point.”
”I swear it’s going to be all over Insta when it’s over!” Tracy chirped.
The ball hit my chest, and I caught it just in time, bouncing it twice before shooting.
It slipped through the hoop.
“Yeah!” I muttered.
One guy clapped.
“That was weak, Sinclair.” Coach said.
“Do better!”
But it felt like that was the best I could do at that moment.
Because no matter how much I tried not to listen, the girls’ chatter still found its way into my head again.
“We’ll need decorations.
Something that will scream cheer captain.”
”Yeah,” the girl’s voice dropped low.
“She’ll invite guys from Redwood, right?”
There was a pause, and the bouncing of the ball threatened to tear my attention.
“I’ll add that to the list!” Tracy said, like some underpaid event planner.
It was no surprise that they were excited about Brooklyn’s birthday.
They basically worshipped her.
“But will her sister be there?” Another girl asked.
“I mean, if Brooklyn wants a show, she can afford one.”
The girls giggled.
My grip tightened around the ball.
They really weren’t planning to put Sydney aside, were they?
Brooklyn wouldn’t allow that.
Right?
“She’ll be there.” There was an edge in Tracy’s voice, but my frown smoothened out, anyway.
“I mean, she’s allowed to come, but there’s a high chance she won’t show up.”
The ball slipped out of my hands again.
“Sinclair!” Coach’s whistle blasted so loudly it caused a ringing in my ear.
“Come on, man!” Dean yelled.
But coach folded his arms, staring at me like he could see through my skull.
“Run the play again.” He said.
The ball reached me again.
I drove forward, but my eyes flicked to the sidelines again.
“…did you see her makeup yesterday, though?” one cheerleader whispered.
“Yeah, looks like she’s trying.”
”Trying what?” another girl snorted.
“To get guys?”
My chest tightened.
The ball bounced wrong again and rolled toward the sideline.
“Alright, enough!” Coach’s voice thundered across the court.
The gym fell silent except for the echo of the ball rolling to a stop near the bleachers. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
He walked towards me slowly, his sharp eyes watching me closely, his arms still folded.
“You’re sloppy, Tyler.
What’s going on with you?”
I avoided his gaze and rubbed my hands on my shorts.
“Nothing.” I said evenly.
“You’re distracted then.
You missed three shots you could have made in your sleep.”
Even the cheer squad stood watching at this point.
“I’m sorry.”
Coach just exhaled, shaking his head.
“Pack it up.
We’re done for today.”
The guys groaned.
“Oh, come on.”
”If this is the energy my captain is bringing, then there’s no use.” He turned towards the gym’s exit.
“See me in my office, Sinclair.”
I just exhaled and turned away, just as Brooklyn walked in.
The energy was thick in the air, and no one needed to tell her something had happened.
“What’s going on?” She whispered to Tracy.
I didn’t even wait for the reply.
I just pushed through the gym doors, and headed for the locker room.
But Dean clapped me on the shoulder as he passed.
“Damn, cap,” he laughed.
“Forgot your balls at home?”
I forced a small scoff.
But setting my eyes on Dean reminded me about chemistry.
When the teacher announced the project partners, I’d thought nothing was funnier than Sydney getting stuck with Dean.
Dean hated anything that required thinking.
Which was ironic for someone who was one of the best players on the team.
But he also hated Sydney.
He always made jokes about her in the locker room and laughed loudest at my jokes.
The bottle of water tightened in my grip as a memory of his words flashed through my mind.
“She looks like a badly crafted pillow.”
Sydney isn’t shapeless!
I knew that cause I noticed.
“Man,” Michael said, walking up beside me, “either that bottle personally offended you or whatever’s going on with you today is serious.”
My gaze dropped to the bottle which I’d almost completely squeezed at this point.
I tossed it into a far off bin.
Perfect shot.
“I’m fine, Micheal,” I said with a smirk.
But as I pulled my jersey over my head, one thought kept coming back.
Sydney’s face when I said those words to her.
The way her shoulders dropped in chemistry class.
And for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t sure I liked the role everyone expected me to play.