12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

ISABEL

Cheering filled the gym with the next night's game, and I threw my hands in the air, standing up to scream and shake my pompoms as Tucker made another basket. His game was completely on point tonight. I just hoped his hand held up throughout the game since his knuckles were still ugly and bruised from his fight with Zane.

I caught Annie's gaze in the neighboring section, but instead of the enthusiasm I expected to see, she glanced at Nic who was sitting behind her with Jet and rolled her eyes. I sighed, wishing I knew why they butted heads so much.

"Sanchez!" I cringed as Coach Larson's booming yell filled the gym.

"Ugh…" Emma groaned from where the cheerleaders stood at the sidelines, just a few feet away from my seat in the stands. "He's making himself look like an idiot out there."

"It's Mateo." Megan shrugged. "What do you expect?"

"I just wish I knew why he does that," Emma complained as Coach pulled Mateo from the game, and we watched as he scowled and threw himself onto the bench on the sidelines.

"Because he wants to show up Tucker, but fat chance of that," Megan said, missing the look that crossed our friend's face as she bent for her water.

I gave Emma a reassuring look, and she gave me a small smile back. Mateo wasn't bad, he was really good, actually. He just turned into a ball hog at times trying to show off.

"I just want this game to go well for him since recruiters are here," Emma murmured quietly to me, and my smile turned sympathetic. I got that.

We turned back to the game then, and I watched with undivided attention, my pulse racing each time Tucker scored. He'd even made a couple of three-pointer shots, and we were still in the first half. He was in the zone, his passion flaring through with determination as he played. You could feel how much he loved it just watching him. The fact that his dream was on the line last semester because of me and our daughter struck me then, but even if we hadn't lost Zoey, I would have refused to let him give this up. He lived for this, and as much as I was not a sports person, I loved watching him play. He came alive on that court. Like I did with dance.

I watched him pivot and dodge another player before making the perfect jump shot, and the crowd cheered, the cheerleaders going into their next chant. In the commotion, I caught Zane's gaze from the other side of the gym, and he winked and sent me that sexy, charming smile that now only made me sick. Before I could look away, I watched him do one of those guy handshakes with one of the players on the other team .

I frowned. Because that was weird even for Zane. Unless it was someone he knew? I eyed him, watching him slip back around to our side just as the buzzer sounded, signaling the start of halftime.

TUCKER

The vibe in the locker room was nuts. The whole team was pumped, we were so far ahead. Well, everyone except for Mateo. I downed some water and finally shot him a glare.

"Enough. If you can't take advice or listen to Coach, then it's your fault you got pulled from the game."

Mateo glared and scowled, ducking his head in his locker to mumble under his breath.

Shaking my head, I finished off my water and took a seat on the bench when Mateo sat. "Bro, seriously. You need to chill out. You know Coach isn't going to put you back in if you don't get your attitude in check."

"Shut up, Pierce. You just don't get it. How are the scouts supposed to notice me when you're out there? This could be my last shot. If we don't win this game, the season's done. They have to see that I can be just as good as you, or I can kiss my chance at a scholarship goodbye."

I shook my head and lowered my tone, needing him to hear me. "You're kissing it goodbye by trying too damn hard. Quit trying to show me and everyone else up. You're a fucking ball hog out there, and no scout is going to want to add a guy to a team if he can't play with a team. Just play the game, and they'll see that you're good because you are good. You're the best player out there after me when you get out of your head."

Mateo just scowled, and I rolled my eyes as I stood. Can't say I didn't try. "That's my advice. Take it or leave it, but, so far, your method doesn't seem to be working." I gestured to the bench. "So, maybe it won't hurt if you try mine."

I walked off then, leaving Mateo stewing, and went to join the rest of my team in the huddle before the next half.

"So nice of you to join us, Pierce. I'm sure your teammates are thrilled to see that you're taking an interest in the game."

"Sorry, Coach." I held back a wince.

"Well, isn't that just peachy for the rest of us? Now, since you're through playing mommy and kissing Sanchez's booboos, here's what we're gonna do…"

I brushed the sarcasm off as Coach started his pep talk, knowing I had to get my head back in the game, and Mateo joined us a minute later, focus and determination replacing the frustration in his demeanor.

"Hands in," Coach directed.

"Go! Fight! Hustle! Win!" we yelled before running back out onto the court, and just like in the first half, my adrenaline pumped, fueling me as I raced back and forth down the court, but the other team had picked up their game and our lead was slowly slipping, the pressure of trying to pick up the slack falling on my shoulders.

Coach called for a timeout, giving us a chance to revamp, but when I heard the assistant coach tell the others to get the ball to me as much as possible, I was pissed. It wasn't a fucking one-man show, but sure enough, the ball made it over to me as soon as it was back in play, and when my teammates fell back, I knew it was on me.

I raced down the court, dodging other players, and I made two more baskets before one of the other team's players came out and managed to glue himself to me in a way I couldn't shake. I turned and backed into him, inching my way to the basket as I looked for someone to pass the ball to, for one of my teammates to step up, but no one was open.

Pivoting right then left, I managed to hold the guy at bay along with my frustration. I hated it when a coach told the team to rely on me like this. It was like code to the other guys to back off and let me handle the show, five against one.

Get the fuck over it and deal. Stewing wasn't going to help anything. Keeping my mind in the game would. Finding my zone would.

Focusing on my surroundings, I searched for a loophole, needing just a few inches of space. The guy behind me seemed to favor my right side, so I faked a move that direction and darted to the left instead, stepping around and jumping to make the shot. My eyes stayed on the ball, but I didn't get the chance to see if it went in. Something jabbed hard into my stomach, sending air gushing from my lungs as I went flying backwards onto the floor of the court, straight into another player's legs.

The guy lost balance from the impact and stepped back, directly onto my fucked up hand. I yelled as my fingers screamed and yanked them from under the other guy's foot, throwing off his balance again. He toppled over me, managing to knee me in the stomach as he crashed to the ground.

Whistles blew, and the crowd roared in outrage as the refs rushed in to clear the scene. I was doubled over, clutching my fist as I struggled for air. It took me a minute before I could breathe enough to make it over to the sidelines, and I watched from my spot on the bench as the guy that had jabbed his elbow into my gut got reamed out by the coach on the other team.

Pulled from the game, the guy sat on the bench once his coach was done yelling and looked over at me. I glared at him for taking a cheap shot just to get me out, but he just smirked with a shrug before looking away.

What the actual fuck?! I was fuming, barely registering as the trainers looked me over, removing the tape from my knuckles to inspect my hand.

Coach Larson hovered nearby, waiting for their verdict. If his star couldn't play, he'd have to replace him, and I needed back in. This was the game I'd worked up to for years, maybe even my last high school one ever. My lungs burned, air still struggling to get through, and my knuckles throbbed. I winced when one of the trainers pressed against them.

"Well?" Coach asked.

The trainer that had my hand looked up. "Nothing's broken. He can play, but I'd let him sit out a bit. His breathing is still off, and it wouldn't hurt to ice his hand."

Coach nodded and looked over at the players he had left on the bench. All I felt was relief that I wasn't fully pulled.

"Put me in, Coach!" Mateo jumped up. "I've got this! "

"Yeah, I've seen how you've got this tonight, Sanchez. Sit back down."

"No, really. I've got it under control now. Let me play," he pleaded, standing tall and staring Coach straight in the eye, determination covering his features.

Coach hesitated.

"He's got it, Coach! Let him play," I called out, sucking in a gasp of air.

Coach looked between us, assessing, before he finally nodded. "Alright. Get in there! Prove me wrong!"

Mateo bounded out onto the court, but I caught his wrist as he passed. "Just play the game." He nodded, running out to join our team.

Izzy caught my gaze as the game got back underway, surprising me at the level of concern across that beautiful face, and I gave her a reassuring smile, letting her know not to worry. I wouldn't be out for long. She gave me a small one back, and I felt my tension start to ease as I watched hers do the same.

Pressing my hand to the ice, I turned back to the game, relieved to see the turnaround in my friend. Mateo was playing to his full potential now, and he might really have a shot at a scholarship if he kept it up. My eyes combed the bleachers to find the university coaches next. I found one watching Mateo out on the court but another was watching me. My whole body went on alert, hoping that sitting out right now wasn't hurting my chances. I wasn't that hurt. I just needed to regroup.

I put my focus back on the game, needing them to know I was serious, and watched Mateo make an easy basket after someone passed him the ball, but when the quarter came to a close, I couldn't help but wince when I glanced at the scoreboard. Somehow, we'd gotten behind, the other team now ahead by three baskets.

Itching to help out my team, I started to fidget, my legs bouncing as my heels drummed against the floor. Coach must've read my mind.

"Pierce, get back in there!"

Fuck yes. He didn't have to tell me twice. I ran back out onto the court where I belonged, relieved to be off the bench, and dove back into the game, ignoring my swollen hand. I stepped back a little when I could, letting Mateo shine and staying near for the assist instead, and when the end of the game approached, we were only three points behind. I had the ball, but there was no way I was making the shot we needed to tie the game, not with my hand all screwed up.

Everyone was blocked, and just when I thought I'd have to try for the shot anyway, Mateo broke free of his guard. I passed him the ball, and he jumped, flicking his wrist to send the ball flying overhead into the perfect, nothing-but-net shot that sent the game into overtime.