Tragic

Chapter Twelve: Life Lessons From Oliver Monroe

Hunter

The basketball echoes loudly against the pavement, directly into my brain. It's the only thing I hear while I stare at Judah's truck still parked in the driveway. Oliver waves his hands in front of my face, catching my attention.

"Dude, you gonna shoot that ball or what?" he cries.

I grit my teeth and launch the ball toward the basket. It circles fast around the rim and bounces back at Oliver, and he laughs. "You fucking suck, man." He chuckles to himself while he jogs over to retrieve it. "You know, Hunter. For someone who used to play a lot of sports, you're pretty bad at them lately."

He dribbles past me and goes in for a perfect lay-up. "I didn't play basketball. I played soccer, asshole."

He smirks, passing the ball back to me. "That's your problem. Soccer is for pussies."

I narrow my eyes, attempting to dribble around him, but he blocks me. "Come on, tough guy. Show me what you got." He moves quickly back and forth on his feet, taunting me. Competitive motherfucker.

I let out a growl, darting around him and shoot from the three-point line. I release a string of profanities when it bounces off the backboard and down the driveway. Oliver shakes his head before chasing after it.

My chest begins to burn again, and I can feel my cheeks getting redder as the heat rises up my neck.

"Calm down, man. It's just a game," Oliver remarks nonchalantly as he shoots another one, making it of course.

I run both hands through my hair, taking a calming breath. "I'm just off today."

"It's cool. Normal people have off days all the time." He winks at me before sinking another perfect three-point shot. "Not everyone can be awesome like me."

"Dude?"

"What?" he says with a laugh. He points his finger at me while he continues to dribble with the other hand. "That's your problem. You lack confidence."

"Fuck you, Ollie. I do not."

He nods his head mockingly. "Yeah, you do. You're too inside your head all the time. You need to relax and just let things happen." He proceeds to dribble the ball in and out of his legs in a figure eight. Now he's just showing off.

I glance down the driveway again and my nostrils flare. "What's he still fucking doing here, anyway?"

Oliver's eyebrows pull in, and he begins to dribble a little slower. "Who? Judah?"

My stomach drops when I realize my mistake. The wave of emotions I've been feeling since last night are becoming increasingly harder to control.

He eyes me carefully. "Why do you care if he's still here?"

I attempt to shrug casually. "I don't. I just—he was such a dick last night I can't believe she let him stay here."

"Eh, he's always like that. Pretty sure she's used to it by now."

"Why do girls think that shit is acceptable? Like it's supposed to be normal or something."

Oliver smiles. "That's how girls are. It's like a twisted game that they get off on trying to tame you." He launches the ball to my chest, and I catch it. "Trust me, I should know."

I scoff. "Don't you ever want an actual relationship or are you just going to slut yourself through life?"

"Aw, Hunter. Are you jealous of all the mad game I have?" He steals the ball from me, and I let out a frustrated grunt. He dribbles it just out of my reach as he speaks. "I'm going to let you in on a little secret my friend. The way to set yourself up for a stress-free life."