Chapter 5: the rollerskating one (Nolan's POV)

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pic of Maddi's outfit up top^

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I line up the shot, bouncing the ball twice, then turning it over in my hands. It's a ritual that has become muscle memory to me by now.

I put the ball in my right hand, palm facing up, using my left hand as I guide hand. I bend my knees, making sure yet again that I have the ball lined up.

Then, all in one motion, I extend my knees, hopping a bit. I extend my arm all the way up, allowing my left hand to drop, and flicking my wrist at the right moment.

I watch as the ball soars through the air, the perfect amount of spin on it, and swishes into the goal.

Why couldn't I do that in the game?

It's been one week since the championship game, and one week since I missed the game winning shot.

The thought of the game again drives me to keep shooting.

I collect my rebound and head back to the free-throw line which has been my home for the past couple hours.

I do the same thing again, and I get the same results. The ball swishes in the net.

I'm in the process of getting my rebound when the creaking of the gym door grabs my attention. Jacob walks in, wearing adidas joggers and a hoodie due to the mid-February weather outside.

He gives me a nod of acknowledgement as he walks toward me. I nod back, grabbing my ball and lining up the shot again.

I shoot.

Swish.

"How long have you been here?" Jacob asks, taking in my sweaty state.

I shrug. "I dunno. Couple hours I think."

"I saw your car in the parking lot. Why didn't you call me to come? You know I'm always down," Jacob says, picking up a ball from the rusty ball cart.

I shrug again. "Just needed to work on some stuff," I mumble, lining up the shot again. Swish.

"Have you been shooting free throws for two hours? And I swear to God, if you shrug again I will throw this ball at your head" He asks, after taking off his hoodie.

"I just don't know what happened," I mumble again, retrieving my rebound.

"It was a lot of pressure and you got nervous. It happens to everyone," he says, walking over to me.

I roll my eyes before he even finishes.

"No, that's not it. I can handle pressure. I've been playing this game for ten seasons. I've spent hundreds of hours in a gym. I think about this sport more than I think about school. Basketball is my life. And this was the one thing I was supposed to do without fail. Just like you with the three pointer. I should have made that shot and I don't know why I didn't."

When I finish, the gym is quiet, my words echoing off the walls. Jacob takes a minute before he replies.

"I knew you were going to miss the shot," he says, and my head snaps up to him.

"What do you mean? How could you know that?" I ask, my eyebrows furrowing.

"I knew it the second you took your eyes off the rim and looked at her," he explains, a somber look on his face.

"When you looked at me again, you just weren't focused anymore."

I don't say anything. I guess I already knew why I missed it. I knew the second I heard her voice in the game, I wasn't focused anymore. It just frustrates the hell out of me because I don't know why she has that effect on me. I should have controlled it.

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