4
"Tomorrow evening at 6 O'clock I need you here so we can work on that defence. For now shoot some free throws and then we call it a day." Coach blows his whistle signalling the end of practice which is heaven for me. I have been running everyday for the past 6 months but I'm sure this full sprint suicide drill just kicked my ass. Judging by the look on the approaching Coach's face, I'm not the only one who noticed. "How are we doing Charlie?"
"Good. We're Fine." I double over and rest my full body weight on my knees as I try to get the maximum amount of air into my lungs. When I feel like I can finally breathe again, I straighten up and swallow "Nothing you need to worry about."
"I'm your coach. It's my job to worry about all of you." Which is not unlike Coach Riley who isn't just a coach to me or the other guys on the team. I think we all have a different story when it comes to him. For each one of us he symbolises something different but something similar in the sense of things we've lost. For me, he's the closest thing that I have to a father figure and he has been there for me more than my own parents have which is saying a lot.
Coach brings the broken pieces in us together and makes us whole-makes us a family. I'd kill for everyone on this team and so will Riley. I guess that's why his teams always work so well together.
His green eyes scan me worriedly-like he also thinks me being here is a bad idea "I spoke to Schumacher, he doesn't think you're ready for this."
F**king Schumacher. I should have known having Riley's friend as my therapist was a bad idea.
"So much for doctor-patient confidentiality huh?" I say half-jokingly, half serious and Riley chuckles slightly "how often am I the subject of your weird bingo club conversations."
"You come up a few times when we meet up for drinks not bingo. We're not that old."
"Tell that to the 40 pounds hanging on your belly coach."
Coach laughs, his eyes crinkling at the edges "You might have to be a comedian after I drop your ass from the team for fat-shaming the coach."
"You know who else thinks I'm funny? My PT. You should start having drinks with her because unlike Schumacher, she thinks I'm fine."
"She thinks your body is fine."
"And that's all I need Coach. I'm in good shape. I've been eating clean-well, mostly. I may or may have not kept the alcohol to a minimum. Everything's great. With your help, I'll be ready before midnight madness."
"And we are going to keep putting in all the work you need but I can't let you stop seeing Schumacher." I open my mouth to speak but Coach cuts me off "I know you think you're fine and no ones disputing that but you gotta work through your issues. I've seen you play and the person I saw today is not the same Charlie who owned the championships two years ago."
I see Dante waving me over to him and a few of the guys with the corner of my eyes but ignore him. I focus on the middle aged man in front of me "Alright, I'll try."
"You'll thank me later."
"Yeah I sincerely doubt that." I mutter under my breath as I walk towards the locker room where the guys are waiting or me.
"What was that about?" Dante asks, worry etched on his face as I walk up to him. "You okay?"
"Yeah." I push open the blue door that leads us to the locker room, throwing him a confused look over my shoulder "why wouldn't I be?"
"Dude, you looked like you were about to pass out all through practice and then coach pulls you aside. What'd he say?"
"Nothing serious." The lie slips out easily and I shrug to prove my point "come on guys Chipotle on me?" I holler just to get Dante off my back and the boys cheer loudly.
I've been friends with Dante ever since I stepped on UCLA soil 4 years ago and I'm pretty certain he knows I'm feeding him shit but I'm glad he respects my decision enough to not question me. Instead, he gives me a long look before nodding.
"F**king missed you." Sawyer jumps on me, his hands wrapping around my neck to put me in a chokehold as he ruffles my hair. "Glad to have you back on the team sucker."
"Get off me." I push him off me and roll my eyes "like we don't live in the same house idiot."
Twenty minutes later, I follow the team out of the locker room to the parking lot. Since I didn't bring my car with me, I end up getting a ride with junior, Ryan Murphy, in his Mazda Mazda3 with Dante. But Neal Mcbride, a freshman and one of the latest additions to the team, who's also hitching a ride left his phone inside so Ryan and I are outside the car waiting for him to get it because we can't stand being next to Dante while he watches some crime documentary on his phone. Mcbride is taking his sweet time in there and Murphy's willing to leave him behind.
"Show some team spirit Ryan. Chipotle is not running away. Jesus."
"I'm starving. I haven't had shit to eat with all these classes and then practice."
"Me too." I look away from my phone "doesn't mean I want to be a d*ck and leave a teammate behind."
"Whatever." He rolls his eyes and I turn back to scrolling through my messages.
Reading old messages isn't my style but it's the only thing I have left of Robin-and the stupid Yankee's cap. At first I was furious at Mum for selling everything she owned until I realised in some messed up way, that's mum going through her own grief and I can't blame her for not wanting her dead daughter's old shit lying around. That'd be another painful reminder that Robin isn't here anymore.
"Hey are you coming with us to the North Pole tomorrow?" Murphy asks, cutting my thoughts before they can spiral.
I lock my phone and slip it inside my pocket, promising myself not to go on Robin's chat again. Remembering Sawyer asking his dad if he can have the VIP section of their club to himself, I shrug. His dad had replied him with a whooping no. No businessman in his right mind would shut the VIP section of one of the hottest spots in LA on a Saturday night-millionaire or not. And although Sawyer did manage to snag a VIP booth to himself, I haven't decided on whether I'd be going or not.
"Don't know yet. It's 50/50. Why?"
"We're all going to be there, there's going to be a lot of girls and alcohol."
"Well, if the team's going to be there then so will Bradley and Alexis." I hate to admit it but my best friend and ex girlfriend are now people I want absolutely nothing to do with. Not after I found them tangled up in each other a year ago. The image alone makes me want to punch Bradley in the face until his head explodes-but I can't do that. That will get me in a lot of trouble with Coach and unneeded attention from the Dean.
"You're still not over Alexis? It's been a year."
"Firstly, I'm over her. Secondly, it's none of your business so stop being so f**cking nosey."
Ryan raises his hands up with a lazy smile on his face "Just checking. But you still have to think about it. You're a serious chick magnet and-"
"Murphy, I'm not going to be your wingman." I roll my eyes. Ryan's an even bigger f**kboy than Sawyer and I put together when we were juniors which is saying a lot. The guy will sleep with any female that looks his way. He's one of the reasons the rumour of the teams's promiscuity is going around campus. It's a surprise coach hasn't forced the bunch of us to enrol in Sex Education class like he had to do when I was just a freshman.
"I wasn't asking you to."
"So what are you asking?"
"I'm just saying with you around there's a 98.9% chance of guys like McBride getting some action that's all."
"And why are you so concerned about McBride getting p*ssy? Haven't you got something else to worry about? Like the fact that Riley was grilling your ass about your layups?"
"You know my layups are fine, coach was being a b**ch because I was late." I chuckle at his statement and shake my head. "I need to fix up McBride. He's got serious self esteem issues but the boy's got potential."
"To f*ck around?"
"I was going to say to be able to get any chick he wants but I guess we can go with that."
"You are such a f**ktard." I shake my head unbelievably. "When are will you stop being such a slut."
"Coming from the king of f**kboys himself."
"I was rebounding. What's your f**king excuse?"
"All I'm saying is, those sorority chicks in gymnastics team will be there and we both know you like them flexible." Ryan wriggles his eyebrows before laughing at his own dead joke. He pulls up an Instagram picture of the gymnastics teams and shoves it in my face. The group of nine girls are wearing leopard print leotards that's revealing more than it's covering, wide smiles on their faces. "Look, they totally have f*ck me eyes."
I let out a low whistle in agreement "they totally have f*ck me eyes." I take his phone and scroll through the rest of their pictures. The girls are hot. Some of them I've seen around campus before and I'm sure I've thought about having sex with them one or two times. I guess I'll just have to beg Bronte to keep Mila for one or two more nights.
"Excuse me?"
Ryan and I have been carried away as we scroll through Instagram that we didn't realise someone had walked up to us. We both look up to see a girl standing a few meters away from us, a polite smile on her face.
"Damn, she's hot." Ryan whispers under his breath so I'm the only one that can hear him.
He's not wrong at all.
My eyes blatantly roam the familiar looking girl. From her body in the slightly baggy blue jeans and cropped, grey polo top that's showcasing her tanned belly and slim waistline, to her brown locks and face. She's got a white bag hanging on her left shoulder and a cup of Starbucks in her right hand.
It's the coffeeshop girl.
Insane popularity is a part of being an athlete and I've come to accept that since I was a freshman in high school. But this also means knowing and meeting lot of people. As time goes by, the faces start to blur and the names begin to fade. I'm not one to remember someone-but not this girl. I can't seem to forget her face. Maybe it's the I'm so confused I don't know what's going on expression she wears most of the time. Or that resting bitch face that has scared most of the guys I know away from her. Her face just sticks.
Realisation flashes in her eyes when they hold mine but she masks it, looking away from me to Ryan.
"Are you lost?" Ryan asks, his hunger long forgotten. Lorraine just happens to be one of those chicks that boys steer clear off on campus. Not because she's unattractive- the girl has got qualities that any guy would want in a girl -but simply because of the fact that she doesn't seem to want to be with anyone. She has only ever kept to her group of three friends and has shown no interest in boys. At least none that I know of.
"No. I'm looking for Charlie Murtaugh?" She clears her throat. It's my time to have a confused look on my face because is she joking? "he's supposed to be a member of the basketball team."
Supposed to? I am a member of the team.
Ryan bursts out laughing and I throw him a glare, not getting the joke. I stay silent, watching this confused girl as her frown deepens. Is she pretending to not know me? "what's funny?" She asks before I can tell Ryan to shut up.
"Why are you looking for Murtaugh, freshman." Ryan questions with an evil glint in his eyes. I can tell he's ready to tease her.
"Sophomore actually." She corrects. I can also tell that Ryan's starting to piss her off even though she's trying to hide it. He knows she's not a freshman even though she's in that freshman stat class.
"A sophomore who doesn't know who Charlie Murtaugh is." Ryan continues being a d*ck "where do you live, under a rock?"
"No, I actually live in a complex not too far away from here." It's hard to know if the reply is innocent or she's trying to be sassy. Her blank expression is giving absolutely nothing away which I don't like. "Are you going to tell me where he is or not?" She adds impatiently.
"Well-"
"What do you want?" I cut in before Ryan can say something extremely douchey to chase her off. I don't want to see this play out much further. Especially when she looks like she's about to make a run for it. Ryan sniggers and I throw him a seriously cut it out look.
"F**king finally." Ryan mutters when Neal finally shows up. He's waving his phone in the air like it's a bloody souvenir "What the hell took you so long?"
"Had to take a shit." He replies before hopping in the backseat "and then coach asked me-" the rest of his sentence is cut off by the sound of the car door slamming shut as he enters.
"See you around freshman." Ryan winks at her before muttering a be quick Murtaugh to me and disappearing into the car.
"Ass." I hear her grumble under her breath before turning back to me. "You're Charlie?"
I watch her intently, from the way her arched eyebrows twitch slightly and her sweeping eyelashes blink in confusion all the way down to her tapered waist and burnished complexion. My eyes linger far too long on the outlive of her small breasts. I can't help but wonder how good they'll look in my mouth.
"Can you stop staring at me like that?" Her voice calls my attention back to her pretty face, my eyes settling on the outline of her heart shaped lips before moving to her eyes.
I smirk "Like what."
"Like you've seen me naked."
Now, that would be a nice view wouldn't it.
"You say that like it's a bad thing." I say pushing my luck with her.
Although she rolls her eyes slightly, her cheeks fill with pink and I can tell she certainly pictured herself being naked in front of me. I feel blood rush south, my d*ck hardening in response.
"It's never going to happen." She says firmly, her hands folding under her chest defensively.
"Never say never sophomore." Her eyes hold mine and I can swear that her pupils fucking dilate. She's staring at me with slightly parted lips. I know she's racking that pretty head of hers to come up with a comeback "What do you want?"
As if she's just remembered the reason why she's here, she opens her mouth to speak.
"Ah, um yes." she clears her throat "I'm Lorraine Perabo from the Daily Bruins. I'm here to get an interview for your article."
"So you're a journalist?"
"To be, yeah." Vivid brown eyes hold mine for a second-like she's expecting a reaction from me "I'm just a student interning at the college paper because it adds to my grade at the end of the year."
A student. Of course she's a student. She's in my stat class. But I'm pretty sure I made it clear to Melissa I want her name at the bottom of my article. No one reads an article by some amateur intern who quite frankly doesn't look like she knows what she's doing. Plus the girl doesn't even know who I am. How's she supposed to write about what a great basketball player I am if she doesn't even know me. This article means too much to me and I won't let anything f**k it up. No matter how hot that thing is.
"I don't know how to say this." I sigh tiredly when Ryan honks, a reminder that the others are probably already waiting on us at Chipotle. Plus Murphy's hungry as a bear.
"You don't really have to say much. I've got the questions-"
"Forget the questions sophomore." I didn't think blowing a chick off could be so difficult, especially when I've done it a thousand times before. But there's something about the way her eyes are watching me. Fuck, snap out of it Murtaugh. "When I asked Melissa to write an article about me I kind of thought she'd be the one doing the writing." Her mouth forms an o shape as the meaning of my words fully register. "So you can tell her that I don't want a no-name intern on my article, no offence."
Her lips straighten into a thin line, her eyes devoid of emotions "None taken."
"I'm sure you're great at what you do Lorelli. But I just have to do what's best for me and that's Melissa Huntley. Good talk though."
I shouldn't have called her that.
I expect her to say something snappy but I'm shocked when her face breaks into a smile-fake but a smile nonetheless "I'll be sure to pass on the message. Have a nice day." She turns around to leave and before I know it, she's disappeared into the corner.
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