SKINTIGHT (Watty Awards 2024)

Chapter 17

Rio

"Hey, hey, hey, the man of the hour!" our small forward throws his arm over my shoulder, walking me into the party with a smile on his face. "Get this man a drink, will you? We'd be copping the L if it weren't for him!"

"Nah, it's not all on me," I laugh. "It's a team effort."

"Save it, brother. You had a 40-point game. That's worth celebrating."

"You fucking killed it today, man," another guy walks past me, handing me a cup of brown liquid on his way.

"Good job, dude," someone else slaps me on the back. "MVP for sure."

"Thanks, man," I grin. I'm on top of the fucking world, to be honest. I try to be humble, but they're fucking right. I had an incredible game. I haven't played that well in weeks. I was flying over the court; I beat my personal record and everything. Coach saw it, too, and so did the recruiters. The scout from the Cavaliers waited for me after the game. He invited me down to see their facilities. He's interested, for sure. They don't do that shit for just anyone.

I'm having a good ass time tonight. I can feel it in the air. I'm buzzing, and I'm not the only one. The win is fuelling us all. People are raging — dancing along to the beat thumping through the room. The house is one big pool of sweaty bodies and red solo cups. The lights flash from yellow to red and purple to blue, but the crowd is still dressed in their black and green jerseys or whatever other Wolves merchandise they have on. I'm not any different. I'm in my Wolves hoodie, too. I basically live in this thing outside the gym.

"Rio Valenti!" a dude I don't know extends his hand. "Good game, man. You wiped the floor with them, as usual."

"Thanks, bro," I shake his hand. I stop smiling. I must look fucking ridiculous. "Thanks for the support, man, appreciate it."

"No worries, dude," he smirks. "Go get yourself some pussy to top the night off."

"You know it, man," I laugh. That's the absolute last thing I'll be doing, but it's easier to just go with it than kill the mood. I have enough shit to deal with tonight.

I make my way through the crowd, sipping my beer as I search the area. The people I'm looking for are almost definitely outside, but I'm in far too good a mood to deal with them right now. Some more people call out to me, congratulating me on our win today. I consider heading over for a chat, but I change my mind when I see Mason waving me over from the kitchen. He's standing by the keg, pouring some girl a drink. Isaiah, Dani and Violet are beside him, leaning against the kitchen counter laughing at Mason dropping the cup.

"You fucking did it, bro!" Mason calls out, completely ignoring the mess he's made. He throws his arms around me, pressing a sloppy kiss on my cheek. "I fucking love you, man!"

"Hey, you're the captain," I laugh. "You deserve the credit."

"We do this shit together, man. You and me — we're gonna take this fucking team to the playoffs," he says. "I swear, those fuckers won't know what hit them!"

"Leave your speeches for the locker room," I joke.

"Never," he shakes his head adamantly. "I'm proud of you, man. I fucking love your ass."

"I love you too, man," I snicker. He always gets corny when he's drunk. "How much of that keg have you been drinking?"

"Too much," Isaiah jumps in. "It's almost empty."

"There's a new one outside," Dani adds.

"Let's go," Mason makes a beeline for the front door, Isaiah hot on his heels.