11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

"I don't even know you anymore," Savannah jokes.

I laugh as we stop outside of the university's gargantuan basketball arena. Legions of people are going by us to enter the building. The air is buzzing with pre-game excitement. Signs hanging above the doors announce that this afternoon's team scrimmage marks the official start of basketball season, but signs aren't needed; this event has been advertised throughout the region for days, and from what I heard on the news, the arena is nearly sold-out.

Funny how, up until now, I never knew this annual scrimmage was a thing.

"Okay, okay, it's true," I concede to Savannah with another laugh. "This is the first time in our lives when I've invited you to attend a sporting event rather than the other way around."

"Oh, trust me, I know." Savannah zips up her puffer coat to fend off the autumn chill. "I suppose, though, that falling for a guy does have a tendency to hurl one's personal universe upside-down and make one do strange things."

"I'm not falling for anyone." I quickly tug my coat more tightly around myself. "I'm merely assessing the situation in order to be better prepared for when I have to play here at the fundraiser."

Savannah fixes me with an I-know-better look. "Danielle, we're standing outside a sports arena, and we're about to go watch a men's basketball game at your request. Not to mention, you've had a star-struck look in your eyes all month, and that look has been particularly pronounced ever since you spent time with Joel at the Fall Festival earlier this week . . . rather romantic time together, I might add, from what you told me about it." She grins. "So don't think for a second that you can fool me into thinking we're here solely for practical reasons."

I'm about to attempt another deflecting reply, but I don't. Savannah is my dearest friend. She knows me better than anyone else does. It's not like I can fool her.

I sigh. "Fair enough. I admit that Joel isn't the conceited jock I assumed he would be. He's . . . wonderful, actually." I have to pause as the dam that was holding back my emotions seems to crack. "Sav, he's smart, thoughtful, caring, and funny. He's incredible."

Savannah clasps her hands to her chest. "Oh, Dan, I'm so happy to hear you say this! I knew there was the potential for something special between the two of you! You guys had chemistry from the moment you met."

My smile fades.

Savannah drops her arms to her sides. Her smile disappears. "What's wrong?"

"Pretty much everything is wrong." I groan. "Joel isn't interested in romance, and I don't have the time to devote to a relationship. In other words, our lives are totally incompatible." I attempt a nonchalant shrug. "Not that it matters. When October is over, Joel will move on, become an even bigger superstar, and forget all about me."

Savannah's eyes are glistening with sympathetic tears, and she gives me a hug that conveys more than words ever could. I smile appreciatively, take a moment to collect myself, and give her a nod to indicate that I'm ready. We then head inside the building, becoming drenched in the lively pre-game anticipation. The sensation instantly takes me back to all the sporting events I attended with my family over the years. I'm again shocked to realize that, although I never grasped what I was feeling at the time, I had a sports-loving streak inside of me all along. In fact, I kind of think that sports are . . . awesome.

Yikes. Savannah wasn't kidding. Falling for Joel really has turned my personal universe upside-down.

We enter the main part of the arena and stop at the top of a steep staircase to scout out where to sit. Music with a heavy beat is playing loudly. The enormous scoreboard that's hanging from the ceiling is flashing pictures of all the basketball players. Colorful spotlights are being projected onto the court in hypnotizing, swirling patterns. Fans are rushing to claim the best seats. And out on the court, the players are warming up; half of the players are wearing white tank tops with dark blue shorts, and the rest of the players are wearing blue tank tops with matching shorts. The coaches and trainers are walking the sidelines. Hoards of media personnel are clogging the areas under the hoops, and the cheerleaders are performing a dance routine.

It takes me only a second to spot Joel down on the court, and at the sight of him, scorching heat rushes through me. There's no question that he's a man who's totally in his element. He's taking practice shots at one end of the court with the other players who are wearing the white tank tops. His gaze is focused. His movements are intoxicatingly athletic, and the massive muscles of his arms and legs are on vivid display.

"Earth to Danielle."

I jump and snap my head toward Savannah.

"Enjoying the view?" she asks, grinning once more.

I blush. "Maybe a little bit."

"Good for you." Savannah chuckles before pointing to the first few rows of seats that are directly opposite Team White's bench. "Let's head there. If we move fast, we still may be able to get the front row."

In a blink, we're back in motion, charging down the stairs in a frenzied, determined effort to reach the front row before it fills up. We get there just in time to claim the two chairs nearest the aisle, but we stay standing and begin clapping along with the music like everyone else. I smile again as I gaze around the arena. I have no idea how many people this building holds, but . . .

This arena. This massive arena where I'm going to be competing.

My stomach churns.

"Hey, Danielle," I hear a guy say over the ruckus.

I emerge from my thoughts and realize that Kaden has come over to this end of the court from Team Blue's side. He's standing on the edge of the court so he's only a few feet away from where Savannah and I are situated. He's watching me with an arrogant grin while casually spinning a basketball in his hands. He winks as he goes on talking to me:

"I knew you would come. You can't keep away from me, can you?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Savannah hit me with a questioning glance.

"Hello, Kaden," I state his name with deliberateness so Savannah will know he's the guy I've been moaning to her about. The guy who's trying to steal Joel's starting position. The hotshot against whom Joel and I are competing at the fundraiser. The son of Angela Cox, the woman who wields the power to banish me from the medical world for eternity.

"You're sitting with the wrong crowd, by the way." Kaden tips his head to his right. "Down there is where the students who are cheering for Team Blue are located."

I smile politely. "Actually, this is precisely where I want to sit."

"Suit yourself." Kaden winks again. "I know you're secretly cheering for me, either way."

With a swagger to his step, Kaden heads back to the other side of the court. As he clears from my line of sight, I discover that Joel has stopped shooting, and his eyes are shifting between Kaden's retreating figure and me. Before I can react, Joel resumes firing off shots with his meticulous, steady precision.

"Goodness, that Kaden guy is sure a piece of work." Savannah shakes her head. "In all the years of watching the men's basketball games, I've barely noticed him, but it's evident that he's even more obnoxious than you described."

" Obnoxious is definitely a good word for him." I take off my coat. "And that's why I want to make it clear that I'm not cheering for him."

Savannah's jaw drops as she sees my shirt. "Holy smokes. You're wearing sports merchandise? You're wearing Joel's sports merchandise?"

I giggle at her shell-shocked expression, and I glance down at the t-shirt that I have on. I bought it at the student store yesterday. The shirt has Joel's jersey number on the front and back, and his last name is printed across the back in big writing.

"If Kaden thinks I'm going to cheer for him, I intend to make it abundantly clear that he's wrong," I state.

"Nice!" Savannah gives me a high-five. "This is one of the coolest things I've ever witnessed you do, Danielle Gillespie. I—"

An announcer's booming voice radiates out from the speakers, letting the crowd know that the scrimmage is about to begin. Everyone bursts into applause. The cheerleaders start a new dance. The lights dim while the spotlights dramatically illuminate the teams' benches. The announcer begins reading off the names of the players, cuing each player to jog to center court. When it's Kaden's turn, he puffs out his chest and struts to the center circle to join the others.

"And now," the announcer declares, "as the starting point guard for Team White, he's last year's leader in points and assists, and he's a three-time first-team All-American! So let's give it up for Joel Lambert!"

The audience goes berserk. The cheerleaders commence with a back-flipping bonanza. The media folks are taking pictures of Joel as though their lives depend upon it. Amidst the frenzy, Joel high-fives his coaches, goes out to center court, and fist-bumps the other players on Team White. He then turns to Kaden, who's waiting at the center circle. Kaden barely shakes Joel's offered hand.

The arena's main lights come back on, and the intense music fades. The players regroup at their respective benches to huddle with their coaches. The announcer explains that each squad will be directed by one of the team's assistant coaches, and the head coach will be watching from the scorekeepers' table.

The five starters for each squad return to center court. The head referee says a few things to the players and then tosses up the opening jump ball—and suddenly, the scrimmage is underway with Joel directing the expected starters against Kaden and others who are fighting to take over a starting position. The court becomes a flurry of blue and white in what rapidly proves to be a fast-paced and intense game.

Joel is incredible out there. Concentration burns in his eyes as he dribbles, surveys the court, passes, defends, and takes shots from the perimeter. Every time he scores, the fans go ballistic while reporters clamor to get more photos of him. By the end of the first quarter, Joel is the high scorer for all players as well as the leader in assists. Yet there isn't an ounce of ego about him. He has that natural leadership quality that simply can't be taught, and he lets his skills speak for themselves. He really is made for this.

The second quarter is as feverish as the first. Joel makes another trick-pass to Seth, who slams it home to add another two points to Team White's score. Kaden is glaring, throwing elbows, and committing cheap fouls as he scrambles to keep up with Joel.

I tear my attention from the court to scan the audience, and that's when I notice that Felicity and the rest of the women's team are seated a few rows behind Team White's bench. As if she senses me watching her, Felicity peers my way. Her eyes drop to my shirt. I hastily avert my gaze, only to have it land on Angela Cox, who's seated in the VIP row behind the scorer's table. She's accompanied by Elmer, Lindi, and her business-suit-wearing entourage . . . and she's currently skewering me with a pursed-lip, narrow-eyed look.

"Who's the petrifying woman who looks like she wants to cut off your head?" Savannah asks me.

I groan. "I'll give you three guesses, and the first two don't count."

"Oh my gosh, that's Angela Cox?" Savannah's eyes widen with realization. "I've never seen a picture of her, so I didn't know what she looks like."

"Yep, that's her." I cringe. "The president of University Hospital, and the mother of the rival of the man whose jersey I'm wearing."

Savannah grimaces. "That's a lot of drama you have going on."

"Tell me about it." I sigh again.

A blaringly loud horn signals that it's half-time, and Team White is in a commanding lead. Applause rings through the air as the two squads jog off to the locker rooms and the cheerleaders start another routine. Soon, Savannah laughs and points upward while saying:

"Dan! You're on the scoreboard!"

I lift my eyes to the sky-high ceiling, and I blush when I see my face being projected onto the enormous screen. I laugh and wave, waiting for the camera to pan away. Instead, though, the shot of me zooms out to reveal the shirt I'm wearing, and then words appear on the screen:

Joel Lambert's girlfriend!

I freeze. Savannah freezes. Everyone else in our row freezes, too. People start taking my picture; even the reporters swivel their cameras toward me. More and more people are cheering, and all I can do is stand like a statue with an increasingly panicked smile on my face. Mercifully, the players emerge from the locker rooms for the second half, causing the cameras to finally shift away from me while the fans' attention goes back to the court.

"Well, congrats, Dan, you've officially joined the WAG club for the men's basketball team." Savannah sounds extremely amused.

I fix her with a bewildered look. "The what club?"

"The WAG club. You know, the Wives And Girlfriends club." Savannah gestures to my t-shirt.

I roll my eyes. "You're not making this any better."

"Sorry." Savannah puts on a more serious expression. "The good news is that people have short memory spans for gossip. The fundraiser will be over soon, and you won't be subjected to the insane attention any longer."

"I suppose that's true." I'm not sure if I feel relieved or devastated. Or both. "It will be over soon."

The horn buzzes again, and the third quarter gets underway. As the scrimmage resumes, it's evident the players are determined to either cement their positions as starters or overtake those who are ahead of them in the lineup. No one, though, is playing dirty like Kaden. He's hogging the ball and shooting with increasing desperation, fouling harder, and glaring at Joel in a way that makes his mother's icy expression appear saint-like.

The fourth quarter launches with Team White ahead by fourteen points. Joel sinks a three-pointer as if he's just getting started for the night, causing the fans to explode with more fanatical cheers. Kaden is visibly fuming as he receives an in-bounds pass, dribbles across the center line, passes the ball, and runs right into Joel, hurling him to the floor. Joel's head hits the hardwood. The ref's whistle pierces the air as a foul is called on Kaden. Team Blue asks for a timeout, and the players move to the sidelines.

Joel, however, doesn't get up.

As people start realizing what's going on, an anxious silence grips the arena. The trainers and coaches rush onto the court and surround Joel. I'm barely breathing, and I'm clinging to Savannah's arm as I wait. At last, the throng around Joel parts, and I glimpse two trainers helping him to his feet. The audience cheers. I nearly faint with relief.

As Joel is assisted over to the sideline, the refs start speaking with the Team White coaches. Based on what I recall about the rules, the refs are probably inquiring if Joel will stay in the game and shoot the flagrant-foul shots himself, or if a teammate will shoot them on Joel's behalf.

My focus returns to Joel. He's now talking with the trainers and coaches. Suddenly, he looks past them, his eyes finding mine across the court. He does a double take when he notices my shirt, and he breaks into a dashing grin. He then shifts his attention back to his coaches and signals that he's all right. The fans go crazy. Joel continues grinning as he strides to the free throw line. The ref passes him the ball. He sets up to shoot and glances my way once more. He then calmly makes both foul shots.

The game starts again. Kaden has been benched, leaving Team Blue without their strongest player. The rest of the scrimmage goes quickly, and when the final horn pierces the air, the scoreboard confirms that Team White won by a large margin.

Celebratory music begins playing. Spotlights are gliding around the arena. The cheerleaders hustle back to center court to dance. The fans are chatting excitedly, posing for pictures, and filing out of the building. Media personnel line up to interview Joel and the coaches. Through the mayhem, I see Kaden storming toward the locker room alone. Meanwhile, Angela is also departing with her entourage trailing behind her.

"So are you and Joel still having your own shooting practice after this?" Savannah puts on her coat.

"That was the plan." I sling my coat over my arm. "According to Joel, the arena will remain open for a while, and so we thought it would be a good idea for me to get some experience shooting on this court."

"Sounds good. While you practice here, I'll take the bus back to our place." Savannah's eyes flick past me. "By the way: your rather handsome, famous teammate is on his way over here."

I whirl around. My insides quiver, and my heart skips, when I spot Joel walking our way as he's putting on his warm-up jacket.

"Hi, Danielle. Hi, Savannah. Thanks for coming," Joel greets us in his friendly, genuine manner. It's like he isn't even aware of his superstar status.

I, however, am so flustered and star-struck that I can't utter a sound. Fortunately, Savannah comes to the rescue by quickly piping up with:

"You're welcome. You had a great game."

"Thanks." Joel casually ruffles his hair. "The pre-season scrimmage is always a good time."

A fan calls out Joel's name, causing him to look over his shoulder. Savannah uses the opportunity to nudge me in order to get me out of my mesmerized haze. When Joel faces us again, Savannah promptly begins acting like she's checking her phone. Joel's attention settles on me.

"Hi," I say, finally finding my voice. "How's your head? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. I was stunned, but I didn't black out." Joel shrugs. "Kaden may have tried to get me out of the game, but I'm still here and only slightly worse for wear."

"I'm glad you're all right."

Joel peers right into my eyes. "Thanks."

There's a pause.

Savannah clears her throat. "Okay, I know you two need to practice, so I'll head out. Again, nice game, Joel."

She gives me a last glance, waves to both of us, and starts climbing the stairs for the exit. As I watch her go, I note that the arena has mostly emptied out now, which makes this building seem even more gigantic and intimidating.

"What's on your mind?" I hear Joel inquire.

I look his way. "To be honest, I'm thinking about how big this place is. More specifically, I'm thinking about how crazy it is that I'll be trying to make a basket on this court."

"Whenever I travel to another team's court, I remind myself that no matter the size of the building, the size of the court doesn't alter." Joel smiles. "If you can score a basket in the practice gym, you can score a basket in here, too."

I sense myself relaxing. "That's a good way to think about it."

"I'm glad it helps." Joel is still smiling as he holds out a hand to me.

I place my hand in his, allowing him to assist me down the step to get onto the court itself. He then slips his hand from mine, and we walk to the middle of the court. Our footsteps are the only sound as they echo throughout the cavernous space.

"I stashed some women's basketballs over here before the scrimmage." Joel jogs over to what was Team White's bench, reaches under the chairs, and pulls out a few basketballs.

"Wonderful. Thank you." I set my jacket and purse on the vacated scorer's table, and I face Joel squarely. "So what should we practice first?"

Joel doesn't reply. Instead, he unexpectedly breaks into another grin while passing me a ball.

I peer at him curiously. "What's so amusing?"

"I like your shirt, that's all."

"Thanks." I giggle. "I wanted to make it clear—especially to Kaden—that I'm cheering for you. After all, like you've said, we're teammates, right?"

Joel's gaze becomes deeply focused. He strides across the court, stops right in front of me, and replies:

"That's right."

And just like that, the fire of attraction reignites within my core, and suddenly all I can think about is how much I yearn for Joel to kiss me. My breathing hitches. I don't dare to move or speak. He doesn't say a word, either, but he doesn't have to; the look in his eyes makes it clear that he understands precisely what I'm thinking. He places one hand on my cheek while his gaze moves to my lips. I―

The sound of a locker room door slamming shut reverberates through the air. Joel and I jump apart. I nearly drop the basketball before I sputter:

"H-how about I practice shooting from the right elbow, since that's the basket I can never make?"

Someone clears her throat.

I jump again and spin in the direction of the tunnel that leads to the locker rooms. Felicity is standing there, staring at us closely. How long has she been around? What did she hear? What did she see?

I glance at Joel. His eyebrows rise momentarily, which is the only indication that he's as caught off-guard as I am. He then casually grabs a men's basketball from the nearby cart and starts dribbling while saying:

"Hey, Felicity."

Felicity smiles. "Hi, Joel. Forgive the interruption. Kaden asked me to get his things, since he forgot them when he left after the scrimmage." Her eyes trace over to me and zero in on my shirt. "And hello, Danielle. It certainly was interesting to see you labeled as Joel's girlfriend on the scoreboard during the game."

Joel stops dribbling.

"Um, yes. Yes, it was." I clear my throat. "It was definitely, um, unexpected."

Felicity studies me a beat longer. She then walks to the bench that was used by Team Blue and picks up a bag that's on a chair. She faces us again. "Well, I'll let you two get back to practicing―and whatever else you were doing."

She shows Joel another gorgeous smile before she walks away. A strained quiet follows. I shift toward Joel. His gaze is turbulent as he uses both hands to do a hard dribble of the basketball against the ground. Without him uttering a thing, he makes his point clear: he doesn't want to get caught up in romance . . . or false rumors of romance. I don't blame him. After all, in many ways, this situation is even messier for him than it is for me.

"We don't have to practice today," I remark. "I'll do my own session tomorrow, and I'll concentrate on shooting from the right elbow then."

Joel exhales. "No, we should practice here while we can. It's a good idea for you to get used to this arena."

And in a blink, Joel and I revert to being nothing but business partners. He's polite and formal. I'm respectfully responsive to his advice. Gone are the shared glances that light fire in my core. Gone are the sizzling smiles, the accidentally-on-purpose moments when our hands brush, and the shared laughter. Gone are the near-kisses that make me believe he might really . . .

It's for the best, though.

Isn't it?