| ROSCOE |
Aria DeLang was a giant pain in my ass.
Something had pissed her off, who knew what. Normally, I'd be delighted to see it — that wrinkle between her brows that only appeared when she scowled with her whole face. That expression was becoming easier and easier to elicit these days and it hadn't lost its luster yet. Except today. Things had gone too far, that lunatic had almost wrecked my baby over it.
I guess I shouldn't be surprised, I knew better than most what she was capable of. It'd been years since she'd flipped the switch on me — sending Whitney to tell me to come kiss her and then reacting like a feral cat once I did — and despite the passage of time, it still hurt my pride.
Aria was the only person that had ever done me dirty. I hadn't missed her.
So when I walked in and saw her at my practice, saw her schmoozing with my coach — like she did with every other authority figure — I'll admit, I got a little salty.
We weren't kids anymore and I made damn sure she knew it. When a guy gets posterized, he knows it's more than just basketball — you've been disgraced, pommelled, conquered. If it happens more than once... shit, I guarantee every dude looks at you with sickened pity, like they look at the village drunk making a fool out of himself again.
Aria understood this play for what it was. She knew not to show her face round these parts. For a while everyone looked at her like the wad of chewed gum that sticks to the bottom of your shoe, but not anymore. They were starting to like her, it was those underdog vibes. I couldn't have that.
She needed to go.
I scratched my head and stared at the empty driver's seat. My ears rang and my head buzzed, and not for the first time, I regretted my decisions from the prior night.
Last night I could've sworn that she'd take me up on my offer. I thought she'd leap at the opportunity to boss me around. My friends had me so convinced I ain't even sleep, instead I posted up at her doorstep.
Damn, that's some simp shit.
I sucked my teeth and yanked on the door handle. I could go home and get a nap in, but the likelihood of waking up in time for practice was slim.
I couldn't afford to be late again, I needed Coach Brown to see that I was for real.
There were two things I carer about: basketball and my mama. Everything, and everyone else, could suck my dick.
It gutted me to hear that Coach was questioning my dedication. He knew me, he knew the hours I'd clocked with my old man to get me here. Ball was all I had left of him. Ball was my ticket out of here. I took that shit seriously.
But no matter what I did — I could score every point for my team, break every state record, bring home "W" after "W" — and Coach still wouldn't look at me the way he looked at Aria DeLang.
Damn I hated her.
... But that's exactly why I needed her.
I could endure her presence temporarily if it meant that Coach's believed in me again. I mean, it could be worse. She could be grating as hell, and an eyesore. Sometimes, when I caught glimpses of those long legs, I could almost forget who they belonged to. They probably only looked nice against the backdrop of hairy, man, legs. Yeah... that seemed more likely.
Grumbling under my breath I circled the car, crouching to check for damage. Luckily, she'd taken the curb at an angle so the bumper wasn't scratched. Once I was satisfied that my car was fine, I swung into the drivers seat, fired up the engine, and backed off the lawn.
If Coach saw my car on the grass, he'd add a reckless driving accusation to the list of my many inadequacies.
What was with that anyway? Aria was normally so... meticulous. It made her good at everything she did. But not something as simple as driving, apparently.
I smirked to myself, pleased by the thought of a flaw marring that careful persona of perfection that she worked so hard to cultivate.
With my grand plan in ruins, I had to decide what I wanted to do. I could scrap it, start over. I should do that.
But...
Why hadn't she taken the bait?
I gave her everything she wanted — a chance to flex on me, private basketball lessons, and don't hate me, but... I could change Aria's life. She was a lone wolf. I could bring her into the pack.
All my interactions with her pointed to these pressure points as my ticket in. What was I missing?
Who the freak knows with Aria, bro.
I couldn't help but grin as I strolled into the gymnasium, Aria was about to lose her shit.
The Lady Panthers were sprawled out across the court, doing their morning stretches. I made a pointed effort not to get distracted by Ashanti's round ass that was practically waving at me.
She made bending in half look easy. Why hadn't I hit that yet?
I made a mental note to holla at her after practice, then I scanned the floor for my girl.
Sure enough, her fiery green eyes were already clawing at me, demanding that I leave. I winked at her and her she scowled. There it was, that wrinkle — told you it didn't take much.
I ignored the furtive whispers and approached Coach Casey. She turned to me, her stern face a mixture of surprise and curiosity.
I slipped my hands into my pockets, cast my eyes about the gym, then puffed out my cheeks. "Hey Coach." I said, clearing my throat. She gave me a half-smile, eyes narrowed, waiting for me to go on. "Mind if I scrimmage with you today?"
She blinked at me, then gave me a quick once over, no doubt mentally comparing my size and skillset to theirs.
"Did Coach Brown send you?" She asked, glancing at her assistant coach for confirmation. Her assistant shrugged, having received no such request.
"Ahh... no, ma'am." I said and scrubbed a hand over the back of my neck. "I just wanted to get some extra runs in — see how you ladies do it." I gestured towards the group of girls strewn about the hardwood.
She pursed her lips and bobbled her head as she waffled on the idea, then finally she said, "Fine. But if you dink around or distract my girls, you're gone."
I gave her a little bow of appreciation, "You won't even know I'm here."
She jerked her chin towards the halfcourt line, telling me to get a move on. I needed no further prodding. I wove through the girls until I found just the right spot to settle in.
I plopped down right next to Aria DeLang and pulled my knee up to my chest, mimicking her stretch. She glowered at me, irritation and a little anxiety radiating off her.
Her friends gaped.
Peer pressure always worked to my advantage. I'd win the court of public opinion by the end of the hour and Aria would be boxed in on all sides.
"I don't know what you're up to, but you can't be here." Aria hissed.
I smoothed my features, creating a mask of pure innocence. I pulled my other leg to my chest in perfect unison with the rest of her teammates. Aria's nostrils flared.
Maybe this was the answer to my problem — invite myself in and overstay my welcome. It sucks to have your sanctuary invaded by feisty librarian-chicks, or in her case, incredibly attractive, chiseled, roguish, hilarious, star athletes.
I completed every stretch and step of their warm-up routine in silence. Her teammates watched me, their eyes darting quizzically between Aria and I, hoping to deduce the nature of my visit and how I was associated with the team recluse.
Coach Casey led us outside to the track and instructed us to run around the oval. After each lap, we were to scale the stadium steps.
I wasn't here to show out, but I did have a reputation to maintain and a lot of these girls were better looking than I remembered. I had to give the people what they wanted.
In another life, my wiry frame and the natural spring to my step would've made for a successful track career. I started off strong, but before I finished my first circuit, my hungover reared its ugly head.
I ended up puking my guts out behind the bleachers. My skin was clammy and my whole body trembled as the alcohol was leeched from my system.
Coach Casey eventually came to check on me and did little to conceal her judgement.
When she saw me slouching against a metal beam, clutching my stomach, she clicked her tongue, "I had no idea the best player in the state was so out of shape!"
She laughed at the embarrassment that flashed across my face. "I might need to talk to Coach Brown about what kind of organization he's running over there."
"I guess this means I need to come back." I said feebly, aiming for a lightness that I did not feel.
She smiled, then beckoned at the school building behind her, "We're done out here. I'll understand if you'd like to call it a day." And with that she spun on her heel and disappeared around the corner. A second later, I heard her blow her whistle.
I pushed off the pillar I was leaning against and ambled after her. I needed redemption and that wasn't going to happen out here.
To my chagrin, Aria fell in line beside me as we made the trek inside. She was practically preening at the sight of my haggard appearance.
"Now I know why it takes you an extra hour to finish practice every day." She remarked, a cruel twinkle in her eye.
I bit back the snide retort that so wanted to spring from my lips — she still had something I wanted. I needed to remember that.
"Good thing I have you to nurse me back to health." I replied. One of Aria's teammates, a short, dark-haired, girl with two fancy braids, shot Aria a look, her eyes bulging.
Aria frantically shook her head, denying whatever question had passed between them. I filed this tidbit away for future use. It's almost like Aria seemed embarrassed by me, which amused and perplexed me all at once. If anything, I should be embarrassed of her.
"It's... uh... it's not going to happen, Tate. So drop it." She stammered, eyes tight, a rosy hue spreading across her cheeks.
Clutching my stomach, I turned to her friend. "DeLang crashed my car this morning."
Aria sucked in a breath. Her friend's jaw dropped. She latched onto Aria's arm, pulling her to her hip.
"This sounds like a story I need to hear about." Her friend announced, eying me up and down. Then she twisted to Aria, "When did you get your license?"
Aria stiffened. She suddenly refused to look my way.
"You don't have your license?" I demanded, gritting my teeth in forbearance. Her friend winced and gave her an apologetic shrug.
Aria tilted her chin up at me defiantly. I scrubbed a hand through my hair, willing patience back into my body.
"Why the hell didn't you say that before you volunteered to drive?" I asked, muscles tensing. Images of a mangled car flashed before my eyes.
She tucked her hands out of sight, but I could see the faintest ripple of her forearm muscles twitching, like she was doing something with her fingers. She did that whenever she had to talk to someone — that weird hand thing — it must be a nervous twitch.
She bit her lip, but when she caught me staring, her eyes hardened. "You didn't ask."
My temper flamed, she was so vexatious. She made me want to gouge my own eyes out. Gah... How was this on me?
"I shouldn't have to ask, it's common sense." I snapped. Aria's friend was blinking a lot, likely feeling awkward at witnessing our argument at such close proximity. Her reluctance to meet my eye, stopped me from going all in.
"I can think of a lot of things that are common sense..." Aria quipped. I clenched my fists, preparing for whatever barb she was about to send my way. "... Like not passing out drunk on a stranger's doorstep."
I flinched — I didn't think she'd go there, not publicly at least. The dark-haired girl gawked at us.
A low growl rumbled in my chest, but I punched down my irritation. I smiled sweetly and watched as the girl's shock melted into concern.
"What can I say? Even wasted me was worried about you... walking to school, alone, in the dark." I said ruefully, peeking at Aria out of the corner of my eye.
She wrinkled her nose. Her upper lip curled into a sneer. She knew I was full of shit, but to deny me in front of witnesses would only lower her social capital.
"Aria, why didn't you tell me you and Roscoe were such good friends?" The girl asked, elbowing Aria in the hip.
I waited with bated breath.
Aria wet her bottom lip, glared at me, then turned her attention to her friend. "Katie, we aren't—"
I cut her off, "Don't let her lie to you. We go way back."
The girl — Katie, by the sounds of it — folded her arms and cocked her head at Aria, demanding an explanation. Clearly this wasn't the first time they'd talked about me. Aria was ruthless to my face, let alone behind my back. I knew she hadn't gassed me up.
I pulled the door open and stepped aside so that the girls could enter ahead of me. Aria's seething glare burned a hole in me as she passed. Then she caught hold of the interior handle and yanked the door shut before I could squeeze through.
Sighing exasperatedly, I gave the knob a little tug, but she was literally holding it shut on the other side. I heard a click and then the door wouldn't budge at all.
She'd locked me out.
I shook my head. Then I laughed. This level of petty deserved more respect.
I was a freaking saint for putting up with Aria DeLang. This meant war and I was determined to win.