The Player Next Door ✓

50 | No Interruption

Chapter 50: No Interruption

The basketball court was draped in darkness. An eerie stillness filled the room, except for the athlete in center court. His muscular build was outlined by the darkness behind him. Every inch of his body was sculpted and toned.

I looked around the glimmering floor and at endless bleachers. I imagined how they were usually packed with cheering crowds and how the lights shone down on the game.

He was alone now. No fans, no spotlights.

Just him.

I watched him do figure-8 drills. He dribbled the ball through and around his legs, moving it from right to left hand as he went. He owned the court. He handled the ball like an extension of his own arm.

I stepped forward with a lot of hesitation. The sparkling floor squeaked under my shoes, while I kept my eyes trained on his moving form. The closer I got to him, the more I admired his energy, his speed, his strength.

The ball swished through the hoop without touching the rim. He went to pick it up when he glanced my way and-

Froze.

Luke stared at me like he couldn't believe I was more than a mirage. And, slowly, he removed his headphones. "Millie?"

It was both a question and a statement. It's not often that I take Luke Dawson by surprise. I walked towards him, stepping over the large painted letters of POHS (Preston Oakes High School).

"What are you doing here?" he asked me, stopping the ball from rolling away with the heel of his foot. "How did you get in?"

"The doors were unlocked," I said.

It wasn't Mission Impossible.

"I'm happy you're here," he responded, "And surprised. We've been off lately, probably something I've said."

"I didn't come here to talk about that," I admitted, feeling guilty that I was about to bring Jake's name up. Luke was looking so hopeful. "I came to let you know that I accepted the date with Jake. I wanted you to hear it from me first."

Luke sighed. He threw his headphones onto the towel draped over one of the bleachers and ran a hand through his hair.

"I'm not going to talk about that until we talk about us," he said.

"Us?"

Just saying us had me feeling some type of way.

"Why are you mad at me?" he asked.

Sweat glinted off his smooth skin and his bright eyes shone against the darkness of the room. He looked hurt. Again. I couldn't believe I could be the one to hurt him.

"Don't you get it?" I asked, my own pain coming through. He'd hurt me too.

And I'd been trying to keep it in but couldn't anymore. "We had something that was obviously more than friends. But then you're rude to me when I'm invited to your home and you go on sleeping with other girls. Jamie came over to your place the night I was there for dinner."

The words rested heavy in the air between us. It's true we never got together, but how could we if I couldn't trust him?

I didn't expect his reaction. 

He closed his eyes. I looked at his tranquil face as he breathed out, "That's why you've been different around me."

He said it in a way that sounded relieved. Like there was more to the story.