"So this was all just a game to you . . .this whole time, you pretended to like me in order to humiliate me in front of the entire school?" An air of melancholia surrounded me, eyes watery like never before. "Were your feelings for me ever real?"
Th...
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The long-awaited bonus chapter you've all been waiting for. Enjoy.
"Every day, I ask myself why I'm teamed up with a bunch of idiots."
"Keep your voice down before they hear you."
Nonchalant, I wipe my wet locks with a mini towel.
"Like I give a shit." I dismiss whereas disapproval is written on Anthony's face.
After securing a seat on the wooden bench, he twirls the basketball in his hands,
"Still, I don't want coach to give us an earful for bad-mouthing his favourite athletes."
Peeved, I decode my lock combination to grab a shirt.
Ever since we started basketball practice at UCLA, I've lost count of the innumerable times I've been close to fighting some 'teammates'.
The season has barely started and those idiots act like they run the fucking place by constantly passing the ball between them.
What's worse is our coach keeps playing favoritism between players given more reasons for those losers to showcase their stupidity on the court.
"They better stay in their fucking lane." I spit in deadliness before putting on a grey shirt, "or else."
"That temper of yours is gonna cost ya," Anthony warns, "this is our first season and you're already thinking of going on fight sprees?
"Have you learned nothing from your fights in high school?"
Deadpan, I secure my sports bag over my shoulder before he stands to replicate my movement.
"Of course. That I'm indestructible, dangerous if messed with and most importantly the cause of countless bruises."
Anthony cackles.
"You cocky bastard," he continues to snicker and once he manages to compose himself, he adds, "I still don't get how you and Em work since you're polar opposites."
The mention of her name causes a familiar rush of unwanted emotions to rise.
Two months passed since I last saw her with her suitcase just as she was about to board the plane.
Even if she promised to keep in touch, each passing week feels more like hell without her.
"I'd say ask her but she barely answers her phone anyways," I respond remotely before the only voices heard in the locker room are those of other athletes.
"I'm sure she has her reasons." Is all he can say in her defense.
With a shrug, I avoid the topic securing the stony expression on my face as we saunter towards the exit door.
I know she's busy with her midterms but selfishly I resent her for causing me to feel like this.
