The Bad Boy's Love and Basketball

Chapter 15;

Sunday, February 19th, 2017 (7:30 pm) 


"I still don't appreciate how short your dress is yet, happy you wore it because it's such a turn on." Carson whispers in my ear. This is probably the fifth time he's said something my dress since we left my hotel room a little over an hour ago. We're in New York City for commitment dinner I mentioned not too long ago, and the dress that has Carson in a frenzy is a little black dress. And by the given name of said dress type, I was to think Carson got the idea of why it's short. Hell, my mom bought it so if she approves then he should simmer down. 


"Well babe, I guess you're going to have to figure out this conflicting feeling on your own." I said to my boyfriend's annoying remarks. 


"Can you two shut up? They're starting." Leanne yells from across the table and my parents and idiot brother nod in agreement. 


I scoff at their rudeness but sat quietly and focused on the stage. I'm not sure what to expect, tonight's the night my truth will come to light about what college I'm going to. Keeping this a secret from my parents wasn't the easiest thing to do. I had to get home before my mom does so I could get the mail or make sure USF couldn't get a hold on my parents' contact numbers. I made sure all calls went to my coach and Leanne's mom who graciously took the part of acting like her daughter's best friend's mother. Every time the topic of college or Syracuse came up I'd fake like I needed to use to the bathroom or something and not return. My dad asked me if I had plans on not attending Syracuse but I told him "no" and he left it on that. 


"We're going to go in order of D1 colleges and high school." The announcer says. Basically he calls up each high school in alphabetical order and every student who goes to that school goes on stage and they pick up the hat of perspective college they're going to in the fall. Simple right? So why does it feel as if I'm going to pee my pants. Well my dress, which would just fall straight to the floor. Besides the point, I'm nervous. 


"Brewster Academy." The room erupts in claps as myself and some other seniors get up to go on the stage. Carson grabs my hands as we walk on the stage and I feel so faint, I could pass out. Just looking at my parents nearly on the verge of crying and Bryce smiling proudly makes me want to pass out. See, this is why you shouldn't lie. It comes around to bite you in the ass. There's a total of 9 of us on the stage, 2 UCONN hats, 4 Syracuse hats, 1 UCLA hat, and 2 USF hats. "On the count of three, you will pick up a hat for the college or university you're attending and playing for in the fall. 1," I could die. "2," I'm going to die. "3." My hand quickly picks up the same hat as Carson. I look over at my brother who is smiling at me and I return the gesture. "Leanne Bourgoise; Syracuse, Brandon Johnson; Syracuse, Carson Andrews; USF, Brett Johnson; USF," and the announcer continues down the line. This whole time I avoided eye contact with my parents. I mean I would try to continue that but we're all kind of sitting at the same table.


"What a switch up." My father says as he grabs Brandon's hat then my hat, passing mine to my mom. 


"I've always wanted an excuse to be in warm weather, now I have a perfect one." My mom beams. 


"Talk about a switch up. Shouldn't you two be upset? I lied for months about what school I'm attending." I gape at my parents who are smiling why too hard. 


"We knew one of you would break the rules, I was just hoping it was Brandon." My mom says. Do you see what I mean about my parents? They're so weird and different. And plus, if I knew that was the case then I wouldn't have done all that work to keep this secret hidden. 


"And now your mom owes me a peach cobbler." My dad says happily. "And plus, I betted on Brett because her coach kind of slipped up and told me about USF." 
My mom scoffs at my father playfully and nudges him in the arm. I'm really pressed right now, I could've saved myself the trouble. Got to love my parents huh? Yeah, not so much.