Not the game I play #2
The official closest to us, a man in his fifties who has clearly been screamed at by better-informed people than me, turns his head and looks directly at me. Curious. The way you'd look at a dog that had barked in a museum.
Half the people in my immediate area are staring at my blonde hair sticking out. Great. Let’s get some attention for justice, shall we? Besides, I have never in my life backed down from a position I invented forty seconds ago and I am not starting in Pennsylvania.
Beside me, Claudia is already applauding, openly, with her hands over her head.
“He's ON THE FLOOR,” I inform the referee, the section, and greater Philadelphia. “He's ON THE ACTUAL FLOOR.”
“He is on the floor,” Claudia backs me up.
Down on the bench Nate has turned all the way round and is giving me two thumbs up with his entire arms.
And Will has one hand over his eyes. Which is fine, honestly. That's fine. It's a normal amount of hand over the eyes.
“Was that a foul?” I ask Claudia, sitting down.
“I have absolutely no idea,” she says. “It was fantastic though.”
“It was not a foul.” The man in front of me finally turns around to deliver his verdict in a deeply annoyed face.
Right. I stop calling foul for the referees and stay respectfully quiet for the rest of the game.
Until the final buzzer goes and we win.
I find this out from the scoreboard so I came in twenty seconds late in the cheering.
The bird-man has stopped.
Two hours. Somebody should give that man something.
When I turn around, Claudia is already gone from the seat before anyone else moves. A woman who doesn’t waste a second of inefficiency.
I love her.
And I love— My eyes find my housemate hovering around Claudia near the court.
I am not okay. I had wanted to run over to congratulate Will and my housemates, but he is definitely having an important conversation of his life. So my feet stays planted near the stairs instead of moving.
Oh my Madonna. Did I just share a pretzel with a scout from the LA Lakers?
But she didn’t even know the rules. She was faking it the whole time? Strategic woman. A scout from one of the biggest basketball teams is talking to my Willy Wanker.
Will’s broad shoulders come up half an inch and stay there. The guy goes suddenly and completely polite. There’s a warm smile across his face when he nods twice.
I tilt my head to watch him better. That smile is Will in private. Sometimes he has it when he looks down on his phone.
Then there’s a jaw thing that they both do at the same time, standing three feet apart like they’re putting something away. Claudia pats his arm a few times and with another charming, golden smile, she turns to leave.
I get to Will before the tunnel does. “Nice sitting.”
Will has been watching me walking down the stairs and has not looked away once.
“Thanks.” One corner of his mouth lifts. “Natural talent.”
“Very commanding. Real authority in that chair.” I come closer and poke his arm.
“I can’t tell if you’re mocking me or if that’s a real compliment.” He scrunches his nose.
“Some men can't pull off a chair, Willy. You made it look effortless.” I look him up and down, slowly, and entirely on purpose. “Genuinely. Best bench work I've seen all season.”
“You've seen three games.”
“And you were the best seated man at every single one of them.”
He is trying very hard not to smile again and losing, and there's a graze of colour along his cheekbone. “You drove here.”
“Athlete relations.”
“Sure. I’ll believe that. You hate driving.”
“Willy.” I put one hand flat on his chest, in front of Leon, Rory and an entire Saint Joseph’s cheer squad. “Do you want me to have driven here for you, or for reasons? Because I can do either, but I only like one of them.”
His hand comes up and closes around my wrist, holding it right there. My heart beats calmly under my palm.
“So what did the scout from Lakers say?” I beam in excitement.
“Who?” Will widens his eyes.
“Claudia.” I grin even bigger. “I saw you talk to her just now.”
Will stares at me for a solid five seconds, then his jaw does something.
“That's my mum.” His lips curve.
My jaw flies open. Immediately.
“You were sitting with my mum for two hours,” he adds.
“Claudia is not a scout?” There are other words available to me somewhere.
Will barks out a laugh. “No, Maddy. What did you two talk about for two hours?”
Oh. What? Did I just explain basketball back to the mother of a basketball captain? A woman who has probably been driving him to practice since primary school and knows more about his career than his own coach does?
“Mm?” is all I can manage.
The alternative involves cursing and bolting. But I’m staying still, making sound and looking only mildly bewildered, so. Progress.
“Mercer!” Coach calls from the tunnel. “Bus.”
Will looks at me for one more second, still smiling then finally releases my wrist.
“I’m getting the full report at home.”
“No.” I blurt out.
His grin widens. “See you at home.” Then he turns towards the tunnel.
“Yeah.” Another nod as I watch him go.
Of course Claudia is his mum. How the hell did I miss that? The jaw. The hair. Oh My God, the nose scrunch. The way both of them look completely calm while clearly having seventeen opinions they have chosen not to share.
Damn it.
I let the Tesla drive me home on the ugly ninety-five with Pirates soundtrack playing at full volume.
Ugly highways remain ugly after sunset.
And I am doing eighty on a road I hate to save ten minutes getting back to a house with a guy who didn't even score tonight.
Not one point.
Apparently, that wasn’t the point.
My phone buzzes on the passenger seat beside my pink Chanel and three textbooks.
Will: so did u settle on the price for cuddles?