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“You’re probably thinking you chose the right team, huh?”
I spin to see Travis Dennis standing there. His Arlington bag is slung over one shoulder and he’s wearing a tracksuit over his uniform.
“It was a close game.” I decide to be magnanimous.
Travis shakes his head. “Adams is a real asshole on the court. I hope he treats you better.”
I watched the game he just played in. Holden didn’t get called for a single foul. I know he’s plenty capable of saying whatever the hell he wants sometimes, though, which is probably what Travis is referring to.
I say nothing, deciding it’s better not to engage.
“What the hell are you hanging around for, Dennis?” Robby appears, his hair still wet from his shower. “Go back to Losertown.”
“We were having a private conversation,” Travis replies. “Nothing to concern yourself with, Sanderson.”
Robby scoffs. “Like you don’t know she’s Adams’s girl.”
“What’s going on?” Henry appears next, a couple of Holden’s teammates right behind him.
Some of the Arlington players stop on their way to the exit, backing Travis up.
All of a sudden, I’m standing between a bunch of very pissed-off basketball players.
Richmond’s side parts, and that’s how I know Holden has arrived.
“Cassia? What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” I say. “Let’s just go.”
“Dennis was harassing her,” Robby supplies unhelpfully.
I shoot daggers in his direction, but he’s too busy glaring at Travis to notice. The same tense atmosphere as the game swirls around me, except now there are no referees. No witnesses.
Richmond just won the game. They should all be off celebrating.
“He didn’t do anything,” I say.
Travis grins at me. “Aw, baby. You don’t have to defend me.”
“Don’t talk to her,” Holden snarls.
“Worried she’ll wise up and go for a real man?”
“Take another look at the scoreboard before you leave, Dennis. Youlost.”
Travis’s smile is more of a leer. “I’m not talking about on the court. I mean keeping her satisfied in—”
I don’t see it coming. I don’t think Travis does either.
Holden swings, and there’s a sickening smack as his fist connects with Travis’s face.
Travis bends over, clutching his nose. I don’t have a lot of sympathy for him—he had plenty of chances to walk away—but I’m not totally supportive of Holden’s decision to punch him.
“Get the fuck out of here, Dennis.” Holden takes his own advice, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the exit. A few of his teammates slap him on the back as we pass them. One of Travis’s goes over to check on him.
Cold air smacks me in the face as we step outside, chilling my lungs as I take a deep breath.
Holden says nothing as we walk toward his truck.
