All We've Got Is Basketball (Blake Griffin FanFic)

Chapter 90

"What the hell are you doing here?" I asked, stuffing my jersey into my duffel. Blake and I sat in the locker room with the two people I despised most. "You need to go home. Now. You can't be here. Not with me. Not here. Not with everyone here."

"I'm your mother," the lady with red hair said as I shook my head.

"No, you're not," my palm covered my forehead as I paced back and forth. Blake grabbed my hand and thigh to steady me. I felt like I was boiling. It was so hot I could barely take it. I don't know whether it was the sight of my parents again, or that Team Westbrook had just won the Degree Shooting Stars event my very first year.

"You need to sit down," Blake told me, trying to pull me onto the bench, but I retreated. I kept on pacing back and forth, as I was hyperventilating.

"Thank you for taking care of her," My mom said, placing her frail hand on Blake's thigh, "She really never let anyone do it for her."

"No," I said, shaking my head, "don't talk to him, don't touch him and don't care for me. You don't care for me." She took her hand off Blake's thigh, as Blake outstretched his hands to me.

"Morgan--" I cut Blake off, to save his breath.

"Save it," I interjected, "I can't do this here, I really can't. Please... please go home. Don't talk to me. Don't think about me." I grabbed my duffel bag, and made a move for the door, Blake following me out.

"I'm sorry," I could here Blake mutter to my parents, as he ran out with me. Blake opened my mouth to talk to me, but I shook my head. I didn't want to hear it.

"Blake, we are supposed to have a good time here. I don't want to think about them or my past," I said, looking into his eyes.

"Guys!" Someone called, as I turned around to see DJ. "What's going on? The three point contest is about to start." I replaced my frown with a smile to DJ. I grabbed Blake's hand, interlacing our fingers, as I pulled him back into the stadium.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom first and I'll meet you two down there?" I asked, smiling so cheesy. DJ knew something was up. He nodded, as him and Blake went into the stadium. I moved into the bathroom, and brushed the strewn hair from my face and splashed cold water onto my face, wiping some of the sweat off me. I took a deep calming breath, to try and calm me down. I was shaking horribly, as I grabbed onto the counter to steady myself. Thank God this bathroom was vacant.

"Morgan? Can we just talk?" I heard my mother's voice from the door, as my stomach starting churning again. I took a calming breath and stood up onto my legs, taking a deep breath. The deep breaths weren't working.

"Talk about what?" I shot at her, "talk about how you left me? You both left me? About how you kicked me out all alone in DC? About how a needle came before me? For me, there's nothing to talk about. Everything is quite clear to me now. It's been eleven years. I'm over it and so are you." I moved past her but I knew this wasn't going to be the end.

"How is Little DJ? Is he here?" She asked, her voice frail and quiet. Almost innocent.

"You don't need to see him." I said, flatly. "He's doing just fine. So am I."

"Morgan, can we talk? Sometime, somewhere else?"

"No," I answered honestly. She huffed and dropped her purse onto the counter, digging through it intensely. She found a pen and grabbed for my hand. She wrote a phone number.

"Please call me if you change your mind," I looked up at her and then the number. No way in hell. I rolled my eyes as a few girls came into the bathroom.