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

[45] Ball Never Lies

Taylor tugged on the hem of my jersey, shaking me from my jealous thought spiral. I batted his hand away.

"Let me make it up to you." He pressed, his voice expectant. I didn't have to look at him to know that he was grinning sheepishly, banking on his dimples to do his dirty work.

I don't know why I did it. I suppose I wanted to hurt him like he'd hurt me. I wasn't the vindictive type, but ya girl couldn't catch a break.

"You're not my man. I made out with someone too, so drop it." I blurted, nostrils flaring.

Taylor jerked his chin back, his smile evaporating on the spot. For someone guilty of the same crime, he sure looked upset.

"With who?" He demanded immediately, but his heated gaze automatically panned over to Roscoe.

My chest tightened—why would he assume it was him? But inside, something uncomfortable stirred.

The next possession, I put a hand on his hip. I had to, don't get it twisted. I needed to keep track of him and the ball. He was oddly silent now, unmoving. So much so, I stole a glance at him.

The muscles of his jaw worked as he stared at Roscoe with a far-off expression. Roscoe dribbled and spun through every defender on the court, but there was no reaction over the beauty in the execution to earn that basket.

The velvety allure in Taylor's eye was gone, replaced with an austerity that was incongruent with his nature. I rolled my shoulders—his feelings weren't my problem. In fact, I only gave as good as I got.

I was surprised when he snapped back to attention on the very next play, a wry smile curling his lips.

"Not gonna lie, I'm a little shook." He admitted ruefully, biting his lower lip.

I backed him down into the paint with my forearm. He could have easily stopped me, but instead he curled around my touch. I furrowed my brow at him, at his persistence.

"Why? You don't think I can get a dude to kiss me?" I asked harshly.

"No, I know you can get any dude in here to kiss you." He rejoined matter-of-factly.

I immediately turned red. I almost laughed—if he only knew. Luckily, I had enough sense to keep my mouth shut.

Avoiding his gaze, he continued, "I always thought I'd be your first."

His words landed like a punch to the gut.

I froze, sure I had misunderstood him. I was so thoroughly distracted that the ball bounced right next to me and I didn't even notice.

Preston yowled in a wordless rebuke, but I didn't hear it. My brain was experiencing an existential crisis.

TAYLOR ARROYO WANTED TO BE MY FIRST KISS?

Like, specifically my first kiss, the most romantic and memorable kiss of my life? I didn't think he kept track of my punch card, let alone wanted to get on it. Why was I just now finding this out?

I sputtered like an idiot as we jogged back down the floor. He got a pass, could've gone to the rim, but he waited for me to catch up. He paused long enough for me to get in front of him, then he dished it back to Roscoe, who seemed annoyed by the waste.

"Don't leave me hanging, DeLang." He muttered as he moved towards the basket, keeping an eye out for a rebound.

Even if I could speak, what could I say? "Actually, Taylor, I lied, I still want you to be my first kiss?"

Nah, I couldn't walk it back now. Besides, I shouldn't even want to. He was a scoundrel.

... But I did still need to lose my virgin lips by the end of the year, lest I be cursed as an Honorary Dick member for the rest of my days...

Looney Toons, I was in a pickle...

But then, I had an idea—a horribly, stupid, reckless idea.

The ball never lies.

As I back peddled down the floor, I gave him a nonchalant shrug, "You beat me, I'll add you to the rotation."

"The rotation?" He balked, and again his eyes trailed towards Roscoe. "I'm going to need more than that."

I shook my head, "Take it or leave it."

"If I win, you have to kiss me in front of everyone here." He countered, a hungry glint in his eyes.

Normally, I'd blush if he looked at me like that, but the cool expression on my face flickered, fear fluttering in my chest. That seemed like my worst nightmare for more reasons than I could count.

I couldn't risk it.

I scoffed, "Uh, no."

He snorted and turned away from me, his stance cold. Taylor was upset. This wasn't like him. If warmth were a person, he was it. Except for now he wasn't, because of me.

The only logical reason for him to care this much, was because he liked me. I couldn't believe it.

He ignored me completely for the next two plays, refusing to even meet my eye. For someone I was supposed to avoid, I found it unbearable.

Taylor was the literal man of my dreams. I had him on the line. What was I doing? I couldn't waste this.

"Fine." I said shakily as he came to stand beside me. I pinched my eyes shut, the blood in my veins feeling jittery.

I just had to make sure I won, that's all. I couldn't believe look like the good guy, but with no real risk.

Taylor beamed at me.

"For real?" He asked, giddy as a school girl.

My mouth was too dry to speak, so I nodded. My fingers flicked wildly at my sides, my anxiety mounting.

"Alright, next game then." He said, eagerly rubbing his hands together.

As the game point rattled around the rim, I couldn't shake the sick feeling brewing inside.

Basketball was my happy place, this type of emotional turmoil didn't happen here. I was overthinking it. Worst case scenario, I got a kiss from Taylor.

How bad could it be?