In Case of Heartbreak

21 | play

My worries must've been clearly written on my face, because as Holden glanced in my direction, he spoke up. "He's just not used to starting on the bench," he pointed out, noticing where my focus laid. "He'll get his chance; the coach knows what he's doing."

I gave him a tentative smile, but before I could respond, both of our eyes were brought back to the court as a collective groan of protest erupted around us.

The referee had blown his whistle loudly, stopping the play as one of our players was down for the count. I recognized him from the party a few weeks back, and as he wrapped his hands around his ankle, I noticed a player from the opposing team standing only a few feet away from him, seemingly satisfied as a sly grin appeared on his face. Figuring he'd intended for him to get hurt, a crease formed between my brows as I, along with the rest of the crowd, watched the injured player limp off the court with the help of his teammates while our coach shook his head in frustration.

What sent a thrill through me however, was when he motioned for Dean to stand up, speaking to him quickly before clapping him on the shoulder and pushing him onto the court.

"See," Holden said, grinning and joining in on the applause as his best friend entered the game, "I told you."

When the whistle blew again seconds later, I was shaken out of my state of surprise and cheered along as we were given the ball to inbound.

All of the players had their game faces on, and unlike the first quarter of the game, I was pulled right into the action.

Routing for Duke, I cheered with every shot we made and held my tongue with every shot the opposing team sunk in response. Dean was playing his heart out, slipping easily back into the game that he loved as he dribbled past players and contributed to our team's rising score. Every time the ball was passed to him, I was forced to bite my lip and contain the proud bursts of energy that were coursing through my body. It seemed to me that he was an unstoppable force on the court, only taking quick breaks when he needed a refuelling, and that wasn't lost on the other team.

When the last quarter began, it seemed like their strategy was to double team Dean, no matter if he had the ball or not, in hopes that without him our offense would shut down.

It was easy to see that this frustrated Dean to no end as he tried his best to dribble and deke them out, but to no avail, he settled for being the one to draw the defense away from the play. Astonished at his selflessness, I watched as he let the rest of his teammates use the open space to draw up the score.

It took longer than it should've for the other team to pinpoint his strategy, and just before the clock hit zero, as Dean was left open a few steps outside the three-point line, the ball was thrown his way. He had only seconds to line up a shot, and aiming it the best he could, his feet left the ground as he used the extra momentum to propel the ball towards the basket. The ball was in the air as the final buzzer went, but when it swooshed through the net effortlessly, the crowd leapt to their feet in celebration.

"Way to go Dean!" I screamed with delight, clapping happily as I ignored the chuckles of amusement coming from Holden and Stella.

It was a loud crowd, full of screaming fans and supportive families, but even through it all, I saw Dean turn away from the celebration his teammates were having in the middle of the court and meet my gaze. My smile was wide and my cheering overdramatic, and as I saw him grin in return, I knew that everything he'd worked on over the past few months was worth it, even just for this infinitesimal moment of joy.

−−−−−−−−−−

"There he is," Holden announced in an overly amused voice almost half an hour later when Dean emerged from the locker room, "The man of the night."