Dusk (BoyxBoy)

Chapter 29 - Malice

"We didn't think those girls were your type, sorry."

I blinked at my steering wheel. What does that mean?

My phone buzzed just in time.

"Luce, Eriks calling me I'll talk to you later?"

"No problem- but if you miss our next video call Alex and Maddy have both agreed we're all flying over there and shaving your head so don't miss it!"

"I'm sorry- I promise I'll make it next time."

"Ok you better- love ya, bye!"

I answered Eriks call and started the car.

"Evan! You gotta get over here now the game is crazy close!" His voice was hard to make out through all the noise on his end, and I heard a loud buzzer sound off.

"Where are you?" I asked, pulling the phone from my ear slightly.

"What?!"

"Where are you?!"

"Rowan's game- coach canceled practice so we could go- come quick the second half's about to start!"

"Wait, isn't it too late-?"

"Get here!"

The line went dead and I was back to the echoing silence in the parking lot.

***

It took a while to find parking, and for some reason I felt a weight leave my shoulders as I walked to the gym. There, I'd just be a bystander, no expectations or attention on me. The outside was clear of people, and the booming noise from inside the arena made me wonder what I'd missed out on.

I was severely underdressed in my plain white t-shirt and jeans, my bag loosely hanging off my shoulder. Like last time, the fans were sporting blue everywhere.

It felt odd, entering the gym in the middle of a game. It's like turning on a movie you've never seen before at its peak; it's exciting but at the same time you don't know what the hell is going on.

Everyone's attention was on the court, even the employees at the concessions stand had their eyes glued to the game. The announcer was talking fast, the fans were booing and yelling.

It's easier to catch up with a basketball game than a movie though. All I had to do was turn my attention to the scoreboard.

Creighton was up by five points, and there were only forty-five seconds left in the game. The clock was stopped and two players in white jerseys were arguing with the refs, their arms moving expressively as sweat dripped down their bodies.

It was strange watching the game from the ground level. When I was up in the stands, the players looked a bit smaller- average sized. From this level I could see how much bigger than me they all were, most of them were around six feet or taller, their shoulders broad and muscled. In any other setting, these guys would stand out from the general public- I'm sure they dealt with that on a daily basis, but they seemed to belong on the court.

I felt small looking at them.

Rowan wasn't hard to spot. He was pulling the jersey of one of his teammates, one of the players who'd been arguing with the referees. He was pointing to the clock, talking to the boy with a frustrated expression, his brows knit together closely.

"And a technical foul will go to Creighton guard Adams," the announcer's voice echoed through the building and angry boos filled the stadium. The player Rowan was talking to shook his head angrily and as he turned I saw the name ADAMS printed on the back of his jersey.