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

One final shot. One more shot at the foul line, before we win this game. I can break records. I can change what everyone thinks about the WNBA. I can put the Los Angeles Sparks on top. I dribbled the ball twice at my feet and gazed up to the white net, with the orange rim, which had become my best friend over the course of my rookie year. I blocked out all the noise, the screaming, the chanting, the yelling, the booing. Until I could only hear my heart beat,  my steady breathing, and the feel of the ball in my hands. I bent into my normal position, and pretended I was in my backyard, on my basketball court, on a regular sunny, hot day in Los Angeles. I took a deep breath, and let the ball be airborne. It was as if everything had slowed down, everything was in slow-motion, there was no more noise, no more anything, just the sound of the ball circulating in the air, going for the back board. Swoosh. The crowd went absolutely wild. Chanting my name as my teammates beamed to me, and fistbumped me. My teammate and good friend, Maya Moore, gave me a huge hug and cheered along with every one else. There was only a second left in the game, we were up by one, and there was no way the Miami Sol could come back now. They dribbled the ball down the court and just when the buzzer was about to go off, Ruth Riley chucked the ball from half court, missing it by a long shot. The crowd went crazy. This is what they loved, and what I loved to do, to make them happy. I raised my arms as everyone chanted my name and I beamed to the crowd. Purple and yellow confetti pieces rained down onto the court, and everyone cheered. We were advancing to the championship. Reporters were now racing down onto the court to interview Maya and I, but instead I walked away, slipping through the crowd, with pats of my back and high fives, into the quiet locker room where nobody remained. What a great way to start off on a rookie year. In a couple minutes my teammates would run through the door, the locker room being filled with yells and screams. I opened my locker, quickly, trying to get away before everyone came in. I took off my jersey and took a towel to wipe off all the disgusting sweat. I changed into my faded tye dyed t-shirt and extra pair of basketball shorts. I took off my basketball shoes, replacing them with my Lebrons I had just got. I threw everything into my bag, grabbing my phone and turning around to leave, almost bumping into Maya. "And where do you think you're going?" She asked me, her arms folded across her chest, and tapping her foot. I sighed and rolled my eyes. Busted.

"I was just heading out, I'm really tired and I have stuff to do, ya know?" I smiled and tried to walk past her, but she pushed me back to where I was. I rolled my eyes, prepared to hear the same talk she gives me after we win each game.

"What like turn on the lights in your backyard and practice until you drop dead?" She asked, sitting down on the wooden bench, her arms still folded.

"Practice makes perfect," I added.

"Yes, it does but not practicing enough to make you die. C'mon, you just broke a record for rookies in WNBA history and you won't even go out and talk to the desperate news reporters." She pointed to the door, and I shook my head.

"I don't want to talk to them," I said and she rolled her eyes.

"Fine, practice is at 10 tomorrow at the Clippers training center. Tonight, you're coming with me and we're going to party." I shook my head. "C'mon it'll be so fun, you haven't been to an after game party this whole year. Please? For me? The Clippers team will be there, and there are plenty of single men on the Clippers team."

"No, thank you, I just need to focus on my career, no partying, no guys, for a little while," I said, and she made a dissapointed frowny face.

"You've been saying that all season. You're coming. Wait for me and let me change, we'll get clothes at my house." Instantly, the players began to flood  the locker room, and Maya stood up as if on cue. "Wait for me in the parking lot, if you leave I'll skin you alive." I rolled my eyes and left the locker room, after everyone congratulated me. I gave everyone fake smiles, and walked out. Through the lobby, I went pushing through desperate fans and everyone else. I slipped on sunglasses, meshing into the crowd, appearing as a normal being, wishing I was. I walked around the building, it was dark outside, the streetlamps alluminated my way to the back parking lot, where all the players, coaches and owners parked. I reached in my bag for my keys, finding them, and turning to my red Aston Martin, which was ready to go. I threw my bag into the trunk, and slid into the drivers seat. I turned on the car and waited patiently for Maya. I so wasn't ready for what I was about to get in to. A few minutes later, Maya appeared, and slid into the passenger's seat.  "Thank you," she chimed, giving me a dazzling smile, and I fake smiled back and rolled my eyes. That's just become a habit now. I left the parking lot and took a back road to get too Maya's house, which was fairly close. "Make sure you get drunk tonight so a player will have to drive you home," Maya said scandolously. I shook my head.

"No way, I can't do that!" I protested, and Maya rolled her eyes this time, earning a laugh from me. I pulled into her long driveway, revealing her gorgeous three story, stone mansion. I parked and she stepped out, running up her steps, and she unlocked the door. I was trailing slowly behind her, not really wanting to do this.

"Hurry up!" She yelled, "We don't have much time!" I jogged to meet up with her, and she slammed the door behind me. "Let's get to work."

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A half hour later, Maya had my hair in beach curls, my nails painting a new color, my makeup done, and me in this fabulous dress and in stilletto heels. She was almost done, and I couldn't even recognize the person staring back at me in the mirror. This was the best I had looked in a while. Except the fact I could not walk in heels. "Why can't I just wear Lebrons?" I begged her and she shook her head.

"No way, now let's go, vamanos." She ushered me down the stairs, be barely being able to go down, and then shuffling to the door. "Walk normally for christ's sake." I laughed and put my phone into the clutch she had given me. I turned on the car, as she slid into the pasenger seat. "I'll give you the directions."

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Twenty minutes later we arrived at a club called Knockout, the music was blaring, there weren't too many people, but this wasn't my cup of tea. We stepped out of the car, as I handed my keys to a valet parking person. I never trusted them, especially with my new car. I walked/shuffled behind Maya who beamed and said "Hey!" to random people I had never seen before. As soon as the two bodygaurds at the door saw both of us, they removed the red velevt rope, and one directed us into the back room, with a bar, a seperate dance floor. It was like two clubs in one. This was the VIP room and Maya directed me to the bar. "Sit, and be nice." She said, acting like my mother. She introduced me to a few players, Ronny Turiaf, Reggie Bullock and Chris Paul. They were all nice guys and they all gave me compliments on breaking rookie records, and I thanked them. But what I kept aiming for was the door. "Sit tight," Maya whispered in my ear, quickly, knowing I was about to make a shuffle/run for it. Maya ordered me a Red Bull Vodka shot, which was placed in front of me twenty minutes ago, before she went off with other people. I hadn't even smelled the liquid, I just swirled it around in the shot glass. I felt someone sit next to me at the bar, but didn't look up.

"Clubs aren't your thing either?" I heard a voice ask and I looked up to see someone oddly familiar. I smiled. "Morgan, right? you were the one that broke the records tonight, everyone is here for you. I'm Blake."

"Of course I know you," I said and shook his outstretched hand, "and yes, unfortunately I got dragged here by my wonderful social butterfly friend over there, who was ditched me not to mention, Miss Maya Moore." He chuckled at my sense of humor.

"Comedian, are you?" he asked looking at the drink I was swirling in my hands.

"I tend to be a little witty here and there." I answered him, laughing along at my own response. he smiled. Boy, did he have one hell of a smile.

"We've only talked for about thirty seconds and I like you more than anyone I've talked to all night." I smiled.

"Thanks, but I've already gotten too many compliments tonight. I'm so sick of everyone talking about me I think I'm going to scream." He pursed his lips, and laughed which turned out to be more of a snort.

"Rookie year is a big deal," He said, and  I nodded. He looked at my drink. "You are a partyer." I loved that he used the word "partyer" as a label.

"Nah, first club I've ever been too."

"Word of advice, don't drink that, it'll have you so drunk, you'll be hungover for three days straight and throwing up for about two." He grabbed the glass from my hand and tossed it into the trash, not caring he threw the glass away, and for a second, our fingers touched, and we both looked up for a second, and then I looked down, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

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