Chapter 24
CLAY
They say the all-star game is a perk, not a competition.
But life is a competition.
I’m playing with the best in the league. It’s a chance to test myself against every talented, hardworking, genetically blessed guy who ever picked up a basketball and dreamed he could make this his life.
That’s the real fun of the entire weekend.
Now, in the huddle around me, there are four other guys representing the best of the Western Conference. Including Kyle Banks, one of LA’s stars.
“Hey, Wade. This is gonna be fun to be on the same side for once.”
He’s not wrong.
We head onto the court and let loose.
The first play up the court, Kyle takes it and tosses an alley-oop to our point forward. On the way back, the East puts on their show with a pump fake chased by a fadeaway.
This is like the Oscars. A celebration of the sport and what we all can do.
The next trip up, I do my part, weaving and dodging before I put it down with a thunderous dunk drowned out by hollering and applause.
Normally, we sub out every few minutes, so when our coach for the night nods at me to sit in exchange for another player, it’s performative and not personal.
“Rumor says we might be playing together sooner than later.” The voice has me looking over to see Kyle grinning from down the bench. “Need someone ruthless in my camp.”
There’s respect between us, but he’s never been my favorite person. His game has an extra edge mine doesn’t. If he can’t win straight, he’ll win dirty.
Still, I meet his fist with my own before shifting back in my seat to wipe the sweat from my face and enjoy the view. But when I look over, it’s Nova in the stands that makes my chest tighten.
She’s wearing my jersey and watching the game intensely.
When our eyes meet, she smiles and mouths, "Hey."
"Hey." I beam back at her, feeling giddy like a schoolkid.
Last night, Nova said she loved me.
She let me drag her into my room.
And each touch of her skin, every breathy moan from her lips, the taste of her sweetness when she came in my mouth, and the feel of her squeezing my cock was damned near perfect.
I wish she’d said yes to me asking her to move in, but I get that it’s a big deal. I’m trying to be patient and not take it as rejection.
The game carries on, and every few minutes, I sneak glances at her. Each time, she’s still there, watching me just like before.
My heart thuds harder. I didn’t think this moment could feel better, but she’s it—the missing piece.
I want her in my life. I need to convince her she matters as much as basketball, and it’s not as simple as moving my trophies to make room for her art.
“Wade, you’re up!”
We go back and forth for the next couple of hours.
Ten sweaty pros playing like kids, laughing and grinning and showing off.
The money and the calculations fall away, and it’s just love of the game. Ours and everyone else's in this building.
The West wins by five. The charities for both teams get huge donations, so everyone wins.
Still, we get a trophy. Media flocks to do interviews. A bunch of players and ex-players descend, and after I speak to a couple of outlets, a rumbling voice accompanies an arm around my shoulders.
“That knee feel as good as it looks?”
I glance up to see Zane Carter, a Hall of Fame player, watching inquisitively.
“It’s better.”
I hold out a hand, and he grabs it. I’m still in my jersey, and he’s in a designer suit custom fitted to his six-six frame.
“Hell of a game, even for one of these,” Zane says.
“Appreciate it.”
The guy is a legend in the truest sense. I had his basketball card as a kid. His poster was on my wall.
I catch sight of Nova behind him and can’t help smiling.
He follows my gaze. “I hope you make better choices than I did. I got a lot of rings. Only one I couldn’t hang onto.”
I don’t much follow guys' relationships, but the tabloids made a big deal of a couple of his divorces.
“You always reminded me of me,” he says.
“That’s a high compliment.”
“It’s a good thing for basketball and a bad thing for you.
See, you’re relentless. Never see anything outside the court.
By the time I looked up, it was too late.
I came over because I was relieved to see it doesn’t look like that’s the way things are anymore for you.
Kept seeing how you looked up at the stands, like you’re head over heels. Don’t lose that.”
Another group of guys comes over to congratulate me, but I’m focused on Zane’s words.
I can’t lose her. I won’t.