Alley-Oops I Think I'm Falling in Love (With the Wrong Guy)

[45] Ball Never Lies

Aziz sulked in the backseat, no doubt feeling like I'd usurped his place in the hierarchy, except that I didn't belong to the hierarchy. The way he was glaring at me wasn't good—Aziz could be a petty little bitch.

Blessedly, the world seemed to tilt back on its proper axis once I got on the basketball court—no one could touch me there, not even the Dark Lord of Hoops.

I twisted handfuls of my jersey and rested my fists on my hips as Amari and Preston squabbled over a traveling violation.

"Just shoot for it." Devonte growled, throwing a hand towards the hoop. "The ball never lies."

Amari sneered at Preston, elbowing past him to toe the free throw line. He dribbled three times, then let it go.

"Travel!" Preston coughed, just as the ball left his fingers. Unsurprisingly, it clanged off the rim and Amari lunged at Preston.

Roscoe lazily tossed the ball to the top of the arc, signaling to everyone that the debate was over. The King had rendered his judgement, so naturally the scuffle just fizzled out.

I raised a withering eyebrow at Roscoe—for all his bluster, he sure seemed eager to pair up with Devonte. It might be standard procedure, but why go through the hassle of dragging me out of bed if he wasn't going to show out?

"Too afraid to guard me after yesterday?" I asked coolly, the words leaving my lips before I could stop them.

Roscoe stopped talking mid-sentence and wrinkled his nose at the absurdity of my claim. Devonte thumbed his nose, a grin peeking out beneath his hand. Amari whistled, waiting to see Roscoe would handle such a threat.

"She had you beat, man. And she was in a dress." An achingly familiar voice called as everyone giggled over the thought.

Roscoe's golden eyes darkened, not at the jokes, but at the speaker... which didn't make sense.
Confused, I pivoted around, wondering if I'd misheard.

Taylor greeted me with a smile, seeking approval for the assist. I nearly gave it to him, but then I remembered what he'd done—who he really was. His grin faltered when he saw me stiffen and look away.

"I want in next game." He announced, plopping down on the bench and kicking off his Nike slides. I pointedly avoided looking in his direction.

The game ended quickly, mostly because Roscoe obliterated everyone just so he could rub it in my face. Admittedly, I was a little distracted—I was not prepared to play against two Princes of Pepperwood, not after the falling out we'd just had.

As we lined up to shoot for teams, I tried to soothe my racing heart. Someone poked me in the spine. All my muscles tensed because I knew who it was.

"Are you trying to turn me into a Mr. Where's My Hug Guy?" Taylor teased. He wore an easy smile, but the corners of his eyes were tight with apprehension.

I gave him a weak smile, but couldn't help but snort, my temper flaring. Taylor's brow furrowed and he grabbed my wrist in an effort to reel me towards him.

"Aria... don't be mad at me..." He pled playfully, letting his head fall to the side. My cheeks reddened—not from his attention, but at the spectacle of it. Not here, not at ball, this wasn't me.

I tried to retract my arm, all too aware of all the eyes on me. Where else were they going to look? We were all lined up to shoot.

"It's fine." I said curtly and turned back around. Taylor sucked his teeth. I thought he'd drop it, or at least postpone that discussion, but Princes aren't accustomed to hearing no.