I blink away the sweat dripping into my eyes focusing on the play Coach called. My head has been completely fucked all damn day. The whistle blows and Michael tosses the ball against the backboard. I make my move to receive the rebound with Robbie as a guard. The ball meets my fingertips and I am about to pivot to shoot but trip up. The ball slips through my fingers. Jeremy takes it with some hesitation as the whistle blows again. I groan loudly throwing my head back.

I can't get this fucking play right.

"Fletcher, where's your head?" Coach asks with arms crossed. I shake my head at him taking another breath of air. He studies me again before speaking, "Suicides until I say stop."

I can feel the tension running through the entire practice gym. I have fucked up one too many times for Coach's liking and now the whole team has to pay for it. Jeremy rolls the ball to the side as we all jog to the end of the court.

"Pull it the fuck together," Robbie says. I roll my eyes at him even though I know he's right. My so called father should never be in my head. I know this yet here I am letting him get to my head.

Fuck, does he know how to piss me off.

My Father has no idea what I plan to do with the NBA and that drives him crazy. He wants to know just so he can have more money off of me. The only reason I give him any is because of my Mom.

The team posts up at the end of the court ready to run again. The entire practice I have been fucking up and I hate that. I am never off my game but I can't seem to get out of my head today. Coach blows the whistle and we start our long grueling suicides. My lungs and legs are tight a telltale sign that I am going to be sore tomorrow. We have been running all damn practice and I don't think Coach is stopping us anytime soon.

Especially if we don't get the play rightX

He finally makes us stop, five minutes before practice is over. Multiple freshmen have thrown up. Trey is honestly looking like he's right behind them. We all are exhausted and ready for this hell practice to be over. Coach is surveying us one by one. He glances harshly at me before turning around and heading into the locker room.

Fuck, that's never good.

I know I fucked up today's practice. That kills me. Basketball is how I release my stress and all the bullshit with my Father. Now, he's even fucking that up too.

"You guys go, I'll meet you at home," I tell the boys as they walk to the bench. They nod their heads in response. I grab a basketball and start shooting threes. If anything can get my mind away from something it is basketball. Well, it's supposed to be basektball.

Everyone clears the court and I am alone. Nothing but me and the basketball hitting against the wooden panels on the floor. I go to shoot another ball. The ball hits the backboard and bounces back to me. I reach out my hand and catch it.

I release a sound of frustration. With a heated flick of my wrist, I chuck the basketball as hard as I can against the wall. It bounces off the wall with a smack that echoes across the practice gym. Before bouncing out of the practice gym and hitting something else.

"Oh, mother fu-" A yelp from behind the corner makes my eyes widen. Fuck. I just smacked the shit out of someone with the basketball. My eyes widen as I jog to where the ball bounced off.

I turn the corner. Brunette hair covers the side of the girls face but I know who it is.

"Ow! What the fuck!" she yells turning to me fully. Carter's eyes widen when she looks at me as her hand cups her cheek.

"Sorry, I didn't- sorry," I breathe. I try to ignore staring at her but it's hard. Her tight black leggings and sports bra is leaving little to my imagination. My mind reels me back to the kitchen at baseball house. Before we were rudely interrupted.

"Fuck, ow. That ball nailed me," she mumbles moving her hand from her cheek. I wince glancing her cheek that is red and already swelling. I can see the slight outline of the ball lines on her cheek.

"I'm sorry, Car. I didn't mean to hit you with the ball. didn't think anyone was here," I say. I feel bad. Like horrible right now. Even worse than I did before if I am being honest. I notice what she's wearing and the sheen line of sweat on her forehead. She must have been working out or running or something.

"Well surprise I guess. I was just trying to cool down from my run. Did not expect to get nailed in the face with your ball," she says before laughing. With the laugh comes a wince. "I didn't mean it like that."

"I know," I laugh back at her reaching for her elbow. She lets me tug her in the direction of the trainers room. "Let's get you ice and some water? I think we both need a break."

She nods her head chuckling lightly at her comment. I can't help but smile. For the first time today.

I guide her to the trainers room where there is ice. I open the door for her and she walks in before me. I shut the door behind us.

"You can sit on the table and I'll grab the ice," I tell her. She nods her head. I watch as she walks towards the table and glance at her ass. I turn around before she has a chance to catch me. I hear her hop up onto the table as I grab a bag for her ice.

"So, why are you angrily throwing a basketball at a wall?" she asks me. I pause before opening the fridge. I didn't really expect to have this conversation with her. Or anyone. I don't talk about my Father at all. Unless I fucking have to.

"I could ask you the same question. You hate running," I say to her shoveling ice into the bag. Carter sighs loudly. I can tell somethings wrong with her too. Glad, I'm not the only one. Her silence says it all when I turn around her face is blank. I try not to stare at the light bruise forming on her freckled cover cheek.

"I don't necessarily hate it," she defends herself. I laugh only making her frown.

"Don't lie to me."

"Fine whatever. I'll tell you if you tell me," she says looking up at me. Her brown eyes are dark with emotion. I sigh extending the ice to her and she hesitantly takes it.

"I'm really sorry," I tell her again. She puts the ice pack against her face. She shrugs her shoulders letting her feet dangle. I grab a chair and sit on it in front of her. She's looking around the room studying all the posters and medical supplies that are tucked away in here. She looks so out of place but like she belongs here all at the same time. She sits quietly. I'm not used to her being so quiet. That's how I know something is wrong. She is usually loud and happy or bitching at me for something.

I take a deep breath filling up my lungs and she looks back at me. Her big brown eyes looking down at me curiously.

"Remember when I said the dream was coming true?" I ask her leaning against the back of the chair. She nods her head at me keeping the ice clutched between one hand and her other against her thigh.

"You said the NBA scout coming to you was like everything was coming together," she repeats what I said to her at the party. l meant what I said. I did until I got the phone call from my Father. I don't even know how he knew. Then, I saw ESPN ratted my ass out on the idea of me declaring this year. Even if I waited a year it wouldn't make a difference but if I got hurt, that would be the end of basketball.

"Yeah." I don't offer anything else but by the look on her face, she's not going to let up. It is everything I have ever wanted. I still want to go. Everything with my so called sperm donor.

"Yeah what?" she asks moving the ice away from her cheek. I look at her because she should really keep the ice pack on if she doesn't want it to swell. "I'm fine."

"Put the ice back on."

"You put the ice back on," she grumbles. I raise my eyebrow at her in a way to say that 'if I have to I will.' Even though she clearly doesn't want to she puts it back on with a huff. I can't help but have a smirk on my face. She sighs, "So, what are you saying yeah to?"

"I just don't know if that's what I want to do right now," I tell her. Carter tries to hide her shock but she isn't very good at it. One of the many reasons why I haven't talked to the majority of my teammates about this is because they would have the same reaction. They would call me a fucking idiot and maybe they aren't wrong but I saw what pushing someone to the NBA could do.

"Are you saying you don't want to go to the NBA?" she asks me. In all honesty, I don't know where I would be without basketball. But, maybe that is what I'm saying.

"No, I do. I just don't want to make the wrong decision," I explain looking over her. She still has the ice pack against her cheek but she doesn't look shocked anymore.

"And that decision is?"

"Whether I declare now or next year," I explain to her. She still looks a little lost but I know she's trying to understand. Carter sighs removing the ice pack once again. "Carter put the-"

"Hush for a second," she says holding up the ice pack to me. I lean back a little looking at her but she isn't looking at me. She's looking anywhere but me as she sets the ice pack down.

"What's your favorite color?"

I give her a face and laugh, "What?"

"Just answer this series of questions," she states putting the ice pack back onto her bruised cheek. I am about to protest with her but she gives me the 'just do it'll look.

"Fine, shoot."

"Favorite color?" she tries again.

"Blue."

"Favorite basketball player?"

"Kareem Abdul-Jabbar."

"That's a mouthful, anyway," she laughs. I crack a smile shaking my head at her. "Any pets?"

"No."

"Do you wanna go to the NBA this year?"

"No."

I laugh because I can't believe her stupid little trick worked. I know what I want to do. I just don't want have to tell everyone yet.

"See, you knew your answer," she points out. I wish it was that simple. For everything to be that easy. I glance at her but she's already looking at me. She makes things seem so easy. So carefree and laid back. I don't know how she does it but she just never seems to get tripped up and usually, I never do. Especially in front of other people. "What?"

"Nothing."

She just laughs at my quick reply and doesn't say anything but shakes her head. I tilt my head back to study her more. I can tell something is bothering her because she won't look at me again. It's almost like not talking about my problems gave her time to think of her own. Whatever they might be, I know she won't tell me. I won't tell her anything about my family and she won't tell me, the girl who hates running, is running.

"Well, I have to go back before my roommates think I got kidnapped," she says taking the ice off. I push the chair back a little so she can get up. She hops down from the table and steadies herself.

"Are you sure you're okay?" I ask her. Carter laughs softly looking back at me. She'll have a bruise but I don't think it will be a bad one. I hope not. That would just make me think I'm even more of a dick.

"I'll survive. Clearly, you haven't seen my bruises after a night out," she laughs. I crack a smile at her not surprised she wakes up with a new bruise every day.

"If you say so." I stand up from my chair. I extend a hand so I can throw the ice away. She places it into my hand and I glance at the tattoo on her wrist. I know she catches me when she retracts her hand quickly.

"Enjoy..." she pauses. "Throwing balls at the wall but for the sake of another victim, check the corner before you do it."

I laugh nodding my head, "I'll keep that in mind."

She checks her phone nodding her own head before tucking it back into the waistband of her leggings. She offers me one last smile before heading towards the door. A part of me doesn't want her to leave for her to explain everything to me, but I know she won't. She has her guard up and that's okay. She goes to open the door but stops.

Turning around her brown eyes meet mine, "Ya know, if you ever need to talk, I am here to listen."

"Thank you," I tell her honestly because there is not much else I can say. She nods her head back and opens the door this time. "And I hope you know you can talk to me too."

She turns back around with a surprised look on her face and I just look right back at her. Even if she doesn't believe it now, I want to be there for her. In whatever way I can.