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Good call, dumbass.
“I think it’s twisted,” Rory pants, wincing as she touches her ankle. “I jumped and must’ve landed wrong.”
My sister, Ugh! I could beat the shit out of her for always refusing to ask for help. She attempts to stand as if she thinks she can continue playing. Cole and I hastily step in, shutting it downrealquick by swooping a shoulder under either arm before she can cause more damage.
“I can finish,” Rory presses.
I could pinch my nose in aggravation. I swear it’s as if she wasn’t even here when she cringed so hard, I could’ve seen tears when she attempted to put any weight on her foot, and it was her own goddamn body.
“We can’t forfeit,” Lil Sis jeers. “I’m fine. I can finish. I—”
“—I’ll play. I’ll take Rory’s spot.” Spitting out the words before I’m fully aware of what I’ve agreed to.
Every single pair of eyes in our small group lands on me and if it wasn’t me who’d said it, I’d have the same reaction.
What did I just agree to?
“You’re sure?” Hailey queries, a newfound sense of optimism springing in her eyes. I know how badly she wanted this for her, for them.
I shake it out like it’s no big deal.
My fingers snap. “Rory, give me your shirt.” Determination clings, coating every fiber of my being as Cole helps her out of the top, leaving her in her spandex and a sports bra while I swap mine for the matching neon T-shirt. Twinning with my new partner.
The edges of Hailey’s eyes narrow, but I know she wants this too much to back down. Her mouth twists into a knotted line and then she nods. Agreeing.
I knew she didn’t want to quit.
There are only two rounds left before finals anyway. Rory put up a good fight for the brunt of the afternoon, but it’s my turn.
I readjust my hat to its backward state before I step up to the server’s line. The ref doesn’t dare to say a word.
I toss the ball around in my fingers, getting a feel for it. It’s lighter than what I’m used to, but like everything else,includingthis blinding hot-pink shirt, I make it work.
I got this.
As if reading my mind, Hailey shoots me a look over her shoulder, already crouched in her starting position.
We, her glare beams, silently correcting me.
I point my index, and the soft white ball spins to my finger, my smile as arrogant as it is overconfident. She’s right.
Wegot this.
thirty-two
Finn
JustbecauseIlovethe added attention, I flash the same ref—the one who knows how to make shit calls—my favorite smirk. The one I used on traitors right before I put them in their place.
Competition has never scared me because, frankly, I annihilate anyone before they have the opportunity to make themselves a menace. Threats are labeled as targets, and mine have always been aimed at winning.
Hailey and I have already finished the last few rounds of games on our bracket and are on the fast track to claiming victory. A few points and we’ll have won the trophy and Hailey’s so-called luck.
My blood pumps faster, adrenaline coursing through my veins, gah! With every fiber of my being, I can taste our success.
Air whooshes, bulldozing with the velocity of my breath leaving my windpipe. My lips turn up in a sultry smirk. The ball’s gone straight out of bounds on their serve.
Easy squeezy.
