35. Charlie
Charlie
G ods, the sight of my omega wearing my jersey makes me hard as a rock.
It also makes me distracted as hell, and I let the ball get stolen from right under my nose.
"Williams! Head in the game!" Coach Whitlock calls out, and I shake my head, jogging towards the other side of the court.
This may be practice, but Coach expects one hundred and ten percent at all times.
He's kind of a hard-ass. Which we all love, but at times like this, it would be nice to have a little leeway.
Hannah sits where the court-side seats would be, her now shorter hair pulled half up and wavy with little pieces framing her face in the front.
She already looks cute as fuck, but then add in my jersey, with my name and number on it?
She's swimming in the blue and white fabric, but she has it tied in the corner to show off her waist, and a pair of ass-hugging leggings and pink high-top Converse make her my teenage wet dream.
This morning, when she rolled over and asked to come to practice with me since she doesn't have any clients today, my heart nearly burst in my damn chest. All I could think about was her wanting to spend time with me, one-on-one.
I found an extra jersey and gave it to her to wear, knowing I'd need some form of claim on her if she was going to be in a room with my whole team.
What I didn't think about, however, is how I wouldn't be able to keep my eyes off her.
She's on the edge of her seat, watching the scrimmage play out, and I can just hear the things she wants to scream at us. She always has been a very… vocal basketball watcher.
That's the thing, too. Ever since we sorted our shit out in the hospital, it's like little glimpses of who Hannah used to be are coming back. No more timid, unsure, afraid-of-being-rejected-Hannah. Kick-ass Hannah is on her way back to town and I can't wait to see her in all of her glory.
My teammate, Berkley, catches the rebound after Daniels misses his shot, and passes it to me.
I dribble, keeping the ball bouncing in a steady rhythm.
My eyes dart to Hannah as my team sets up on the other side of the court.
She widens her eyes and jerks her head towards the basket like, What are you looking at me for? Play the game, Golden Boy!
Chuckling and shaking my head, my eyes scan the court, looking to see who's open, and what kind of play we can pull.
Putting two fingers to my chin, a symbol we came up with just for the scrimmage, and dip left.
Berkley sets up a screen on Henderson, letting me get by, but when I go to pass to Medina, he's being blocked by Carrillo. Now Landry is on me, his arms up. Fuck.
Then Hannah's voice filters in. "Number twenty-three is open! He's right fucking there, Golden Boy! What are you doing?!"
My teammates around me freeze, and I can hear the sound of stifled laughter as fucking Landry tries not to lose it. My eyes shoot to Hannah, wondering how Coach is going to take her sudden interruption, but he's standing right there next to her, his arms crossed as he looks at her with approval.
"What are you waitin' for, Williams?" Coach smirks at me. "Your omega is spot on."
His words bring a little bit of levity to the situation and just like that, the tension is zapped out of the game. Suppressing a laugh, I pass to number twenty-three, Thompson, and he shoots the basket.
Coach blows his whistle. "Alright, I can see we aren't going to get much else done today. You guys hit the showers." My brows shoot up, and Henderson, Medina, and I exchange a look. Coach has never let us out of practice early. He's a notorious hard-ass.
We're not going to argue with being let out of practice two hours early though, and while the rest of my team heads to the locker room, giving mutters of, "Golden Boy needs to bring his omega around more often," I break away to where Hannah is sitting on the sidelines, wiping the sweat off my forehead with the bottom of my t-shirt.
She's talking to Coach about something with an animated expression while he looks at her with something like…
nostalgia. Coach is an older alpha, somewhere in his sixties, but he's a legend.
He got drafted straight out of high school, played for the Pleasanton Timberwolves for ten years before trading to the Starbrook City Meteors and playing another fifteen.
Then he retired and became assistant coach for the Meteors, and now, twenty years later he's head coach for that same team.
"He used to really have a problem with his footwork, you know," my omega is telling Coach like she's the one who played professionally for twenty-five years.
"He used to have my brother and I pretend to be players on another team and block him however we could, though I wasn't very successful.
" She frowns. She actually frowns at the fact her fifteen-year-old, five-foot-two self couldn't block an alpha over a foot taller than her.
"What kind of trouble are you getting into, mags?" I ask, coming up next to her.
"Trouble?" She gives me an exaggerated look of shock. "Me? Never. Coach walked past and heard me muttering to myself and told me to not hold back."
Ah. That makes sense. It was optimistic of me to think that she was actually holding back her commentary.
"Anyway," she gives me a grin, "I'm going to run to the little omegas room while you get showered."
"Okay. Meet me back in here?" I ask, feeling a little uncomfortable at the thought of her being in this stadium by herself, but the doors are locked and closed to the public, so it should be fine.
"You got it." she gets on her tip-toes and pulls me down to kiss my cheek, and I'm left staring after her as she walks to the restroom.
"She reminds me of my omega," Coach says wistfully, shaking his head.
"Had big opinions and an even bigger heart.
" Something about Hannah must be softening him because next thing I know, his hand is on my shoulder.
"Don't wait, son. Make sure she knows how much you love her before it's too late.
" His face flashes with regret, and with that, he leaves me, heading to his office and I'm left wondering what the hell happened to his omega to make him talk like that.
Whatever it was, I know I don't want to be left feeling the same way he does in twenty-five years.
I need to make sure Hannah knows just how much she means to me.
"Where are we going?" Hannah asks excitedly, nearly bouncing in her seat. We're driving on the freeway, her eyes catching on every sign and billboard we pass. I wanted some time alone with my omega where I wasn't running around and sweating with other guys, so I've swept her away for the afternoon.
I almost let out a laugh, remembering the text conversation between me and the guys.
Me
Taking mags out for the afternoon. Don't wait up
Noah
I'll wait up if I want to, asshole
Me
Fine, lose sleep, douchenozzle
Enzo
Good. She's going to need to feel connected to all of us before her heat hits if she wants to bond us.
Austin
Tell her I'll have her favorite chocolate chip cookies waiting for her when she gets home, no matter what time it is.
My friendship with Noah kind of reminds me of the one I had with Kieran growing up. Constantly giving each other shit, but also there for each other when it counts.
"You're just going to have to be patient," I tease my omega, squeezing her hand over the center console.
"That is not one of my better qualities." She huffs, and I bark a laugh. She's right on that one.
But then I'm taking the exit that leads us to the freeway that lines the coast, and she's frowning at me. "It's too cold to swim at the beach."
"Who says we're swimming?" I ask, arching a brow.
"You're right. Duh. We don't even have our suits. So where are we going?"
"Hannah," I warn, "I said be patient."
She doesn't have to be patient for long, though, because then we're pulling into the parking lot that backs right up to the beach. It's empty this time of year, not another soul to be seen. "Aha! So we are going to the beach!" She points an accusing finger at me.
"Mags." I roll my eyes. "I said we weren't going swimming, I never said we weren't going to the beach.
" She gives me a blinding smile and hops out of the car, and then I'm chasing after her as she takes off running towards the sand.
"Hannah, wait!" She doesn't, and my feet sink into the sand as I follow after her.
She throws her head back and laughs, the sound of it making my heart nearly burst. "You'll have to catch me, Golden Boy!" The sun is low in the sky, hovering just over the skyline, and the golden light reflects off her face, giving her an ethereal appearance.
I flash my teeth at her. "Then you better give a good chase, mags." She lets out a little squeal and picks up the pace, her feet kicking sand up behind her.
Her cute little ass draws my attention as she runs, and my fingers itch to dig into the plump skin, but I let her get a little bit ahead of me before I take off. She makes it near an outcropping of rocks where the waves crash before I catch up with her.
She lets out a surprised yelp when I grab her by the waist, but then I lose my balance, falling to the side, taking her with me.
Turning so she lands on top of my chest, I nearly have the wind knocked out of me when my back hits the sand.
I get over it just as quickly, flipping us around so she's beneath me and my hands are braced next to her head. "Caught you."
The only sounds around us are the crashing and roaring of the waves, and even if there were other people on the beach, we're hidden from view by the rocks.
"You caught me," she breathes hard. "The real question is…" her lips quirk up at the sides, "are you going to keep me, Golden Boy?"
She looks like a goddess, her hair splayed out in the sand, her cheeks flushed from running, her lips plush and pink and waiting to be kissed.