SKINTIGHT (Part 1)

Chapter 7

Rio

My feet thump against the pavement, pushing my body forward with each step. I'm on my 39th lap, with 15 more to go. 55 laps equals 3 miles, so I'll easily have made it to 5 by the end of the morning. These courts are too small. I can run them it in just a few seconds. I don't even feel like I've been here that long. The sun has only just started to rise. I wouldn't be here this early if I didn't have to. Coach asked to meet with me before training, so I figured I might as well get my warmup started. I don't know why he wants to see me, but I'm desperate to find out. I'm hoping for good news. I've yet to hear any negatives from him. It's too soon for any commitments, but a few teams have already reached out to me. The more teams are interested, the better my chances are.

I'm nervous. The draft isn't until mid-next year, but that's not that far away — about 8 months. And we won't be playing for all of them. Pressure is building. I'm trying not to think about it too much — focusing on the smaller tasks I have to achieve before I make it to the big one. But it's not always easy. All the small ones are part of making it to the big one. I just need to take it one step at a time — one game at a time.

I return my attention to my workout, keeping my speed as steady as possible. It's hard not to start stepping to the beat of the music. Jay-Z blasts in my ear, setting the tone for the day. It might just be the stormy weather that's throwing me off, but something feels strange today. I think I'm tired — drained. I'm overworking myself. And overthinking, Basketball is still the number one thing on my mind, but it's not the only thing. It's becoming harder to ignore everything else that's been happening — to push aside all the bad shit. Yesterday didn't help either. It was a nice distraction, training Violet Ferrari, but it's been on my mind since. She's given me another thing to worry about.

I can't seem to wrap my head around her. We've been in each other's lives for a few months now — never close, but always present. Isaiah and I had training camp together all summer. They'd already moved out here by then, but class hadn't started, so Dani and Violet were at all our practice games. We've only spoken a handful of times. I haven't paid much attention to her, but sometimes it's hard not to. She's reckless. She does stupid shit, like pass out at parties. She smashed a window in the student lounge once, but I assumed that was an accident. I've never seen her act violently, but you don't have to be violent to end up in anger management. It might be an internal thing. I don't know. It's not my job to know, either. I've just got to get her boxing. We didn't do enough of that yesterday. And when we did, it was completely half-assed. She wasn't interested. At all. We'll have to try again today. I checked the schedule after she left; she's booked in today and tomorrow, too.

Mason enters my line of vision. He's walking over from the parking lot, a ball in his hand. I slow down my pace before coming to a stop by the entry gate. It won't be long before the rest of the team joins us, too. Practice doesn't start for another 45 minutes, but Coach wants us all here early. I've already seen him around this morning, eyeing me from the locker rooms. I think I've managed to build a good relationship with him so far. I'm always the first to arrive for games, and I don't slack off during practice. He always makes time to chat about y techniques, and he's even found me an agent for the drafts next year. He can see how badly I want this, and that's exactly what I need him to tell the recruiters.

"Hey, man," Mason walks onto the court. "I thought you were staying back home over the weekend."

"Nah, I had to get out of there," I tell him. "I'll go back tomorrow or something."

"Luca being a dick again?"

"Always is."

"You slept in the car?"