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There’s absolutely nothing better and anyone who disagreed could fight me on it.
Those blonde waves dancing across her hairline. Angling her head from side to side in amusement when I still haven’t looked away.
How could I when the most stunning girl in the world was all the way up there and I was down here?
The creases between her eyebrows pinch in the most adorable way as she nods her head. Clearly telling me to focus on the court and get my head back in the game.
My grin turns roguish and although she rolls her eyes, I see the delight hidden in there too.
She tries again, mouthing some words, but my expression tells her fuck that. I know the time and I’ve got a few seconds left of our time-out.
Besides, she may not realize it, but Rory’s the only thing I need to help me focus. Her silent support always pushes me to do better—tobebetter, forher.
Everything I do is for her.
If I owned the world, Rory would be the one holding the oxygen I needed to survive within it.
She stands, letting someone squeeze by her on their way to their seats and I see that number two sitting across her front. The sight shoots something straight through my chest. Same as it does every other time, I spot it.
Only I notice that minuscule hint, a flickering of her doubt that no one else would ever see. Rory’s acting in the only way she knows how. Putting on a front. Being strong for both of us, but it’s only exactly that. A facade.
I know this whole Finn thing is weighing down on her just as heavily as it is on us—if not more some days.
Some nights after she’s drifted off to sleep in my arms, I can feel how she stirs. Her subconscious is the only thing giving away that she’s stressed. Every once in a while, she’ll mumble things in her sleep.
I glance up one last time, but her focus is no longer on me, but on helping the elderly couple as they move past. Her patience infinite with how comatosely they move.
Rory is everything I’m not and most days, I don’t deserve her.
Even with me being distant, moody, and most days a downright pain in the ass—a fact she’s never once been afraid to call me out on—she’s stayed. My girl has always supported me. Supported us.
God, I am one lucky son of a bitch.
The sound of the buzzer blares in my ears. Time’s up.
Time to put back on my face for everyone else. The cocky, confident, asshole they all know, but secretly envy.
I used to think they were all pathetic, but now I realize that I’d have been jealous too if I had something worth losing. I do… now. And I’d do anything to protect what’s mine.
I can’t help myself, shooting Rory one last look.
She catches it, and her cheeks turn a nice shade of pink before I’m forced to turn away. The ball shoved into my hands from the sidelines. My smirk as overconfident as knowing we are going to win this game.
Officially we’re in the playoffs. Having already dominated the regular season coming out almost perfect. Other than that, one loss.
Now we’re in our first round of game play and after we secure this win, we’ll be onto the next. Then the championship is nothing but one smooth ride away.
We’re going to win. How can we not when we have a teamthissolid? Our guys are jacked, stacked, and hungry for that title.
The ref blows his whistle and it’s go time. Already knowing where I want the ball to go since I’d been scanning, assessing my move the few seconds I had before he’d blown it.
There are less than ten seconds left on the clock and the other team’s only down by two points. Hence the reason their coach called the time-out.
He didn’t know it, but shortly he’ll find out what a waste it was. There isn’t a thing they could do that my boys won’t anticipate.
The title is what we want, and this game is another stepping-stone to that victory.
My hands stall on the ball, running the clock.
