Chapter 12 - Riggs
TWELVE
RIGGS
Iam up way too early on a Saturday, and my body hates me for it.
I already stopped at the local Krispy Kreme to grab doughnuts and snagged a Dr Pepper, telling myself that I would get breakfast for anyone I was working with.
Yeah right. Reagan and I have also been texting some, especially at night. Just doing what friends do.
I’m pulling into my parking spot when I see her get out of the white Jeep she shares with her brother.
It doesn’t matter how hard I fight; I can’t force myself to look away.
Tight black leggings paired with a white cropped T-shirt that hangs off one shoulder and Easter Candy Nike Dunks that have so many colors they’re almost blinding.
Reagan Mills is easily and effortlessly gorgeous, and she doesn’t even know it.
Her hair is in a messy bun that allows me to get a clear view of her beautiful face.
Stop drooling, idiot. You aren’t for her.
I jump out of my car and jog to catch up with her. “Hey, Sunshine, I got you something.” I hand her the drink and open the doughnut box as her eyes light up.
“Oh, bless you, Riggs! I didn’t have time to eat, and I was dreading a concession stand breakfast.” She takes a huge bite of a chocolate-iced doughnut, moaning with a sound that makes my jaw drop.
I cough to clear my throat and hopefully erase that sound from my mind because it did something to me. She gives an embarrassed giggle, and we head inside.
We walk into the Titan practice gym and sit down to get things ready. I turn on the scoreboard and ensure all the switches are working.
She walks up to both teams as they warm up, and all these high school boys and their coaches take immediate notice.
I can’t blame them. Totally oblivious to her own beauty, Reagan makes everyone around her take a second look.
She grabs their roster information and comes back to me with a grin on her face.
“I think today is going to be fun!” I nod, grinning back at her like a complete moron. I glare at all the others staring. She may not be for me, but she’s not for them either. I’m just doing what Jordan would want, protecting her. Even I don’t believe myself right now.
Just when I’m about to respond, I hear a deep voice pierce the air. “Reagan Mills.”
I instantly narrow my eyes at the person striding to the table in a referee uniform. He looks familiar, but I can’t quite place him. I send a plea out to the heavens that he isn’t paired with us for the rest of the day. It shouldn’t matter, but it does.
Reagan is frozen in place. Her face has gone pale, and a slight tremor shakes through her hands. It takes only a few seconds, then she is able to relax, but that reaction was telling.
“Drew,” Reagan responds, and I still. That is the name of the guy she was so upset over a while back. Realization slams into me as suddenly I am reminded of why he looks familiar. He is the star of our cross-town rivals, the Durham College Wolves.
About ten miles separate our two schools, and there is no love lost between them. Not to mention that he and Jordan have had a friendly rivalry forever. They played both high school and travel basketball together, but didn’t end up attending the same college despite rumors to the contrary.
This guy had Reagan in tears, so I instantly hate him. Just being a good friend, camaraderie and all that. My inner voice rolls his eyes at me.
“Who is this?” Drew points at me. He doesn’t look thrilled to see me. Same, bro.
“I’m Riggs Hart. Just transferred to CTU,” I say as I glare back at the eyes shooting daggers at me.
“Ahh, Coach Hart’s nephew. Nothing like a little nepotism to get you a starting spot?” His eyes are alight with humor and something darker. I want to wipe the floor with his face.
“Who are you?” I ask with an answering glare. This isn’t about Reagan; it’s about basketball. Yeah, that’s what I’ll keep telling myself.
Before he has a chance to answer, Reagan steps in to end the ego clash before it really gets going. “This is Drew Cole. He plays for Durham College, and we went to high school together.”
Clutching his chest, Drew responds, “Ouch, Rea Rea. I think there’s more to our story than that. You know I only agreed to referee today if Coach Hart put us together. We have things to discuss.” Then he leans in and whispers something to her that sounds an awful lot like “I miss you.”
I glance at Reagan, and she looks surprised. No, she looks completely shocked. “Drew, this is not the time, okay?”
Before I can even wrap my mind around what she just said, the coaches approach, telling us they are ready to get the game started.
“Reagan, just don’t shut me out yet. Five minutes, okay?” Drew wears a hopeful smile on his face.
I don’t know what I expect to see on Reagan’s face, but she gives him a small smile in return. Watching this interaction leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. What is wrong with me?
Running to center court, Drew blows his whistle, and the game begins with a jump ball.
Both Reagan and I are focused on keeping the scoreboard and stat book accurate, so there isn’t a ton of talking.
She does look over at me a few times, and I give the best smile I can muster.
She hasn’t done anything wrong. I’m not mad.
I’m just, well, I’m jealous and curious about what this whole thing is between them.
Once we get into the groove of the game, I break the silence. I need to know where her head is at. We are friends, so I'm just checking in on her, right? I haven’t been able to decipher what she might be thinking and feeling about what Drew said to her earlier.
“So how exactly do you and Drew Cole know each other?” I ask even though I already know. Drew is an NBA prospect, and the travel team he and Jordan played for won nationals multiple years in high school.
She looks over at me quickly, then returns her eyes to the game.
“I’ve known him since we were thirteen, I think.
We went to high school together, and I was his tutor during junior and senior year.
He and Jordan also played on the same travel team.
I always kept stats for them, so the whole team became good friends, even if we’re technically rivals with Drew now,” she says casually, as if he didn’t just plead for her to talk to him.
Knowing she left a lot out, I try to nudge her in the direction that will hopefully give me answers I may or may not like. “Did you date or something? He seems to be into you.”
“Or something,” she says in a tone I’ve never heard from her before. It’s a little angry and a lot hurt. That’s all I get. She’s shut down, and my questions will only make it worse, so I quit, for now.
“Oh, okay. Well, Sunshine, whatever went down between y’all, he’s an idiot if he let you get away.” A blush creeps up her cheeks, and she gives me a genuine smile. Take that, Drew Cole!
“I don’t know about all that,” she responds. I think it only adds to her allure—the fact that she is oblivious to her beauty and that every man in the room has had his eyes on her.
“Trust me, it’s true,” I say quietly, but she startles just a little, so I know she heard me.
We get a lunch break after the first two games, and I’m relieved. Drew has had his attention on her more than the games he’s supposed to be refereeing. The idiot has blown a few calls, and I love watching the coaches ream him for it.
Looking next to me, I see Reagan pulling her bag from the floor, and I decide to try to spend some time with her. “I was thinking we could grab lunch. My treat. You pick wherever you want to go,” I tell her, just as Drew shows up at the scorer’s table again.
“Sounds perfect,” she says as she stands from the uncomfortable chairs we’ve been sitting in all morning.
“Yeah, sounds great. I’m starving!” Drew pipes up, giving me a death glare.
I turn and see it on Reagan’s face that she feels guilty. I guess I’m going to lunch with Reagan and Drew freaking Cole.