The Beginner's Guide to Henry and Gabriella

| 34 | how am i supposed to close the door when i still need the closure?

Henry's POV

We're down by 10 points. Ten, and it's nearing the end of the second quarter. Riley is a menace on the court, leaving me to suspect he knew Jeffery's weirdly attractive cousin was recording him during practice. His crossovers were quick and agile, breaking our defense like it was his calling. I can't say the same for his teammates, especially the huge blonde guy who looks like a 30-year-old divorcee and most definitely not a high schooler. He fouled Adam thrice and caught once by the referee.

"Don't let them shoot the damn ball!" Coach yells. "Keep an eye on the clock. 45 seconds!"

After a miscalculated pass from Jeffrey to Adam, Riley intercepts it. Everyone runs down to Monroe's basket. Adam stays glued to Riley above the middle line.

"Stay with your man!" Coach shouts. "35 seconds! Don't let them shoot."

Riley smoothly crosses over, but Adam is also quick on his feet and manages to stay in front of him, level to the ball. Adam attempts to reach for it, but in that split second, Riley crosses over again, this time leaving him behind. He passes the ball to the player on his right—number 21.

"Who's guarding him?" Coach yells. "Who's guarding him?"

That's Jeffery's man, but before he can guard number 21, Riley cuts down the middle, giving number 21 an open chance to throw it back to him. The path is clearly open for an easy lay-up, but to our surprise, Anthony blocks the shot.

"That's what I'm talking about, Anthony!" I cheer from the bench. I look at the clock. 15 more seconds. That's enough to make at least one more shot. It seems that Adam reads my mind because he's already running down towards our basket, calling out Anthony's name. Anthony sees and launches the ball overhead. Adam catches it, dribbling down the court with three Monroe players following behind.

Adam makes the lay-up just as the buzzer goes off. The room goes wild.

"JEFFERY YOU HAD two turnovers in the first half of the game," Coach states. "One more and you're sitting on the bench. Play smart, Jeffrey. I know your family is here. I get it, but right now, your focus should be on the game. Leave the nerves here. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, Coach!" Jeffery answers as a soldier would to their commander.

"Adam," Coach redirects his attention. "Are you tired?"

"No, Coach."

Although he's too prideful to admit it, Adam is tired. With me sitting on the bench, he's had to double his weight. His entire face is rosy, and he chugged both his water bottles before we got inside the lockers.

Coach doesn't seem convinced either. "Catch your breath. You'll sit for the first two minutes."

Adam didn't fight him on it.

"Brooks," Coach calls. "Are you ready to be Captain?"

I straighten my back. "Yes, Coach."

"You were keeping the bench warm for half the game. What did you see?"

I didn't hesitate to answer. "We can't play man-to-man. Riley is too fast. We need to shut him down. They depend too much on him."

"Okay," Coach nods. "What do you suggest?"

"We play three-two. Jeffery, Adam, and I will be at the top. Anthony and Rocco will be at the bottom."

"They have pretty big players at the bottom," Jeffery chimes in. "They'll easily make lay-ups."

"They haven't made a single shot. They're mostly there to clear the path for Riley."

"I agree," Adam pants. He slaps a hand on the freshman sitting next to him. "Plus, Anthony's proven he can block."