The Transfer

Chapter 1 Reagan

ONE

REAGAN

Stepping out of my white Jeep Wrangler and onto the campus of Carolina Tech University, I take a deep breath and glance around the familiar surroundings with a smile.

CTU is one of North Carolina’s oldest universities, and the weathered brick buildings, towering trees, and stone walkways combine to create the ideal Southern campus.

I turn to face the athletic facilities, and my steps instinctively take me to the Titan practice gym.

The double doors creak a little as I open them, and I am instantly hit with the smell of sweat, floor polish, and the hint of basketball leather.

Since I grew up in a basketball family, it’s a smell I have known my whole life.

I hear the squeak of shoes and the bounce of a ball and spy my twin brother, Jordan, pulling up for a three-point jump shot. It goes in, barely grazing the net as it sails through.

“Nice shot, brother!” I shout. It must startle him a little because I see his shoulders jump. Then he turns toward me with a smile on his face.

Walking over to Jordan, I catch his next shot as it falls through the net, reminding me of the millions of times I was his rebounder growing up.

I like to take a little credit for his insane scoring statistics.

If it weren’t for me, he’d never have gotten up the hundreds of shots that perfected his shooting form and eventually earned him a scholarship here at CTU. Well, that’s what I tell myself.

“Hey, little sis. Glad you came by before class.” My brother gives me a sweaty side hug, and I cringe away from him.

“First off, I’m older by two minutes. Second, you’re disgustingly sweaty and gross. Don’t touch me.” I’m mostly joking, but I really don’t want to smell before my first lecture of the day.

Laughing it off, he ruffles my hair before someone says his name.

“Jordan Mills, just the man I was looking for.” It comes from the university’s athletic director. He’s in charge of all the sports here at CTU. He’s speed walking through the gym, like a man on a mission.

“Mr. Lowe, it’s good to see you.” Jordan puts on his polite face even though he hates dealing with him.

“I saw your shooting drills today. Looking like your father out there. We’re expecting a championship season this year!” Yikes. That’s the wrong thing to say to my brother.

Our dad is Everett Mills, Carolina Tech legend and champion.

When he played here over twenty years ago, he was the MVP and won conference championships as well as a National Title.

It’s the last time the school had one, and the pressure is building for Jordan to lead our team to another one, especially since it’s his senior year.

My twin hates being compared to the “Everett Mills.”

Ignoring the first part, he gives Mr. Lowe a forced smile. “Yes, sir. We are ready to bring the championship back here where it belongs.”

“Good man.” He slaps Jordan on the back and walks off, probably to annoy some other player or coach.

“I hate when people do that,” he says to me, shoulders slumped just enough to let me know he’s bothered.

“I know, J. Just keep doing you and ignore the rest,” I tell him. It’s the same thing our parents have said time and time again. As soon as Jordan started showing promise as a player, the media locked onto him, and the comparison game between him and Dad began.

Before I can say anything more, Jordan tips his head up. “There’s Coach.”

Jake Hart is one of the best men I know, and the reason Jordan chose to play for CTU despite knowing the pressure would be intense since our dad played here.

He’s an incredible coach who loves his players.

He also treats me like a valued part of the team and recognizes the important role I play as a manager and statistic tracker.

Coach Hart walks toward us from across the gym, and I start to do the same but instantly stop in my tracks.

Looking up, I lay eyes on a gorgeous man.

He is the most attractive guy I’ve ever seen, no lie.

He has to be about six foot two. His dark hair falls over intense green eyes that are stuck right on me.

Tan skin, muscles for days, and oh my gosh, did I mention his lips? Perfect. Full. Kissable. He’s perfect.

Until I see the number on his practice jersey. He’s number 15, just like my dad, and that perfect moment deflates. Maybe it’s a coincidence. Doubtful.

“Rea?” Coach asks, and I freeze. I have no idea what he just said because I couldn’t keep my eyes and thoughts off the man next to him.

“Sorry, what did you say?” I ask, as my cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“I said, this is Riggs, my nephew. He transferred this year and will be our new point guard. He’s a senior too, so I was hoping that you and J could show him around this week.” Coach looks at me with a smirk on his face.

“I got this, Coach.” My brother jumps in before I can even start to answer. He gives me a scowl and turns to Riggs. Even his name is hot.

“I’m Jordan Mills, the shooting guard you’ll be passing the ball to all season. This is my twin sister, Reagan, or Rea. She’s off-limits, so don’t get any ideas.” My head flies to my brother, and I instantly glare at him.

“Jordan!” I shout. Coach is now chuckling as he walks off to his office, and Riggs stares right back at my brother like he can’t tell if he’s serious or not.

Slowly, he smiles, and wow, is it beautiful. “Hey, man, I’m Riggs Hart. Excited to ball with you guys this year.” While he may be insanely hot, he’s still a basketball player, and they are nothing but trouble off the court.

Before I can think better of it, the words fly out of my mouth. “Why do you wear number 15?”

Jordan coughs a laugh, knowing I don’t do well with the fanboys or fangirls who constantly try to use Jordan and me, wanting to meet my father or get an autograph.

Then a horrible thing happens. Riggs turns that gorgeous smile to me. “You must be Rea? Everett is your dad, right?”

“Yeah, I’m Reagan, and my dad is Everett.” Ugh, here we go.

But then he says something that makes me think he may not be like all the others chasing my last name.

“I’ll be honest, your dad has always been my favorite basketball player, and I have worn 15 since I was seven. But don’t worry, I’m not looking for an intro or autograph. I can imagine that really sucks for y’all.”

Riggs looks at me with an intensity that makes my heart race. Calm down, I tell myself.

With my most confident voice, I respond to the Adonis before me. “You pretty much nailed how it feels living as his kids.”

“Uncle Jake said you work with the team? Something about keeping statistics?” His question seems genuine, but again, he’s a charming basketball player.

I do have to smile that Jake talked about my position on the team. I’m proud of being a part of the CTU squad. “I keep statistics for his game analysis, like points scored, a shot chart, rebounds, and assists. I also try to help manage the chaos behind the bench if needed.”

Looking down at my watch, I realize how late it is. “I love being part of the team, but right now, I’m running late for class, so I’m going to head out. It was really nice to meet you.”

Turning to Jordan, I give him a side hug. “Bye.” I walk away as quickly as possible. My heart is beating fast, and my insides are a fluttering mess from that encounter.

A loud, deep voice pierces the air, causing me to freeze in place. “I’ll be seeing you, Sunshine.”

“Sunshine?” I ask. I slightly turn to face the man behind the voice, and my breath hitches at the sight of him.

“Yeah, like a ray of sunshine. Seems appropriate.” I’m stunned silent, and my face turns bright red.

I give myself one more second to look behind me before basically running out the double doors and into the brutal humidity of North Carolina in August.

“He’s just another arrogant basketball player,” I whisper to myself as I slow down my pace toward my first class of the day.

As I sit down inside the lecture hall, my mind drifts back to the last bigheaded basketball player I got close to back in high school, and I promise myself right then that I will not go down that road again.

When class lets out about an hour later, I’m grabbing my bag and hoisting it over my shoulder. I feel a tap on my arm and turn to see a girl staring back at me with a hopeful gleam in her eye.

“Hi, you’re Reagan, right?” I’m hesitant to answer at first.

“Yeah, I am. What’s your name?” I’m polite as ever, but warning bells are going off as she smiles back at me.

“I’m Maci! I wanted to invite you to a party this weekend at my sorority house. It’s Friday, and things get going at nine o’clock.”

I perk up a little at that. I don’t want to be in a sorority, but they do throw some fun parties, at least that’s what I hear. I’m a homebody for the most part.

“Oh, yeah? Sure. Sounds like fun!”

In my head, I’m hoping she stops there, but I start the countdown nonetheless, 3…2…1…

“You should totally bring your twin with you!” And there it is. She wants Jordan at her party, and she thinks inviting me will help get him there.

“Oh, shoot. He won’t be on campus this weekend.” I lie just to see her reaction.

The light in her eyes dims, and you can tell she wants to rescind the offer but thinks better of it.

“Well, you can totally still come. Maybe bring some of his teammates with you.”

“Maybe,” I say and turn on my heels to walk out the door.