matters of the heart

11

I take a proper look at the court, noting it's called the Russel Westbrook court. Hanging on the horizontal walls of the court are pictures of the players, each holding a basketball in some sort of play with their names plastered under. My eyes linger on Charlie's picture for some time. I can't help but notice how different he looks. His hair was shorter and his eyes looked brighter than they do now. The picture isn't doing him justice. He looks way hotter in real life and his skin has more tan than that.

  Ew. Why am I even thinking that. I shake my head to clear it before letting my eyes drift to the vertical wall that has been made home to the national championships won. There's a lot of them.

The team are currently scrimmaging and although watching some of the hottest guys I've set eyes on run around seemed interesting for a few minutes, the repetition of it all sends my mind somewhere else.

A part of me knows he called me here for the interview which is just great. After Charlie dropped me off just hours ago, I did a little thinking. Although finding Ryan on our couch, literally held captive by my sick worried friends who looked like they were going to murder him if I didn't walk through the door in one piece, took time to get settled as I had to explain the events that happened, I was able to escape into my room after a few bone crushing hugs and an apology from Shade about loosing me. I also had to apologise for getting lost and making them worried-which wouldn't have happened if my stupid phone didn't die on me. They eventually let off Ryan who yelled an "I told you she was fine!" as he slammed the front door.

When I finally settled in bed after a quick shower, I couldn't help but think about Charlie's proposal. It was unusual and I didn't like the thought of it. I haven't been someone's real girlfriend so I have no intentions of being a fake one to Charlie of all people. I'm simply not experienced enough for that. He can get any girl he wants to do this for him. All I could deduce from the whole thing is that he's trying to make my life miserable. He knows I don't like him and he knows how much I need this article to impress freaking Melissa. Charlie Murtaugh's an ass and I want nothing to do with him. Except, I already said yes and would have to play the part until I get my interview tomorrow afternoon.

So I decided that after I get my interview, I'm calling the whole thing off. He doesn't know how easy he's made my life by pushing the interview to now. It'd be like nothing ever happened-which literally didn't.
Charlie would get played at his own game and that made me proud of myself.

"Hey." I jump slightly in my seat, my heartbeat skyrocketing as I turn to the person sat next to me scared that he heard my thoughts. The dark skinned boy laughs showing off his pearly whites as leans closer to me. Dante Kingsley looks even more good looking up close-his skin looks so good that I wonder what his skin care routine is like. If he has one "I didn't mean to scare you."

  I put my hand on my thumping chest feeling stupid for getting spooked in a basketball court full of people. Especially when I know he was right there. My face warms up "It's fine."

He points to the pair of Nike trainers on my feet "Nice shoes." I look down at the black and orange Jordans on my feet. For some reason, I thought it fitting for a basketball court.

"Thanks." I smile, accepting the compliment.

   "You're not an NBA scout so what are you doing here?" Before I can answer, a sombre expression takes over his face "are you spying on us?"

"Spying? No, I'm-"

"Who sent you? Is it Mark from USC? Is he paying you for this?"

Mark? Who the hell is that? At this point I'm starting to get really confused, weirded out and a little scared.