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

[45] Ball Never Lies

He draped his girthy bicep over my shoulders and pulled me into him. "At least tell me what I did, I miss you."

Preston winced and Amari made a silent gagging face, to which they all started chuckling.

It was mortifying.

I felt like "my boys" had just caught me doing baby talk on the phone. We didn't do that lovey dovey shit here.

Mildly panicked, I did the only sensible thing I could think of. I jabbed Taylor in the chest and twisted his nipple. He yowled and lurched away, cradling his chest.

I flipped my braid over my shoulder and shot him a warning look. Taylor blinked at me in surprise, his mouth twitching like he didn't know whether to be offended or intrigued.

At least the whispers stopped. This they expected of me—ruthlessly crushing any unsanctioned physical contact. I shoved the complicated soup of feelings I had for Taylor into the deepest recesses of my mind, determined not to fall for his charm.

I sighed, relaxed my shoulders, then put the ball through the hoop.

"I got Aria." Taylor proclaimed as soon as we were done shooting for teams.

I whipped my head towards Taylor, towards Roscoe. I thought for sure we'd go toe-to-toe this round, but he merely shrugged.

I didn't give Taylor the satisfaction of a response, but inside I was crumbling. The gig was up, why was he still pursuing this?

"Is this about Whitney?" Taylor whispered as he followed me down to the block. I tensed at the sound of her name. "Because if so, I can explain. It's not what it looks like..."

I wanted to ignore him, I should've ignored him, but curiosity got the best of me.

"Let's hear it then." I said, straightening to look him in the eye. I couldn't look at him too long or my heart would start doing summersaults.

He paused nervously, holding the breath in his lungs. His trepidation was discomfiting—Taylor was a carefree doofus, one need only look at his grades for evidence of that. If he were afraid to tell me something, I probably wasn't going to like it.

"Okay... we made out, but—" He started in a rush, cupping my upper arms.

My stomach turned to lead and plummeted like a rock. Logically, I knew we weren't exclusive, but a girl could dream. Part of me still held out hope that Roscoe had lied about everything. Getting down with Whitney though? That shit stung.

I twisted out of his grip, disgust curling my upper lip.

"I was faded... and my dad was being an asshole and she was just there. I don't know what she told you..." He rambled, but I held up a hand, cutting him off.

I wanted to tear into him, but I was so flustered I couldn't form a coherent sentence. I settled for silence—let him think I didn't care.

Turning away, I ground my teeth and my eyes burned.

I had two princes to destroy today.

I sprang out to the wing, calling for the ball. My first shot was a masterclass in motion.

Taylor scrambled after me, literally mired in guilt. I caught additional snippets of an apology whenever he came near, but all I heard were excuses.

I knew Whitney Drew had always had her sights set on the Princes of Pepperwood—honestly, I was surprised it'd taken this long. I wondered which she preferred, having tasted both.