Y'all gonna make me cry, bro. I just reached 6k reads on this book and over 600 comments! Thank you for being patient with me when it comes to uploads, the book is gonna come to an end pretty soon so I just wanna thank y'all for coming along for the ride. My heart gets happy every time I get a notification about a comment from y'all! <3
If you're a fan of mysteries/murder mysteries then I suggest checking out my newest book called Scholar! All you gotta do is click on my profile to find it.
(If you know what movie this chapter title is referencing...you a real one.)
***
"You can't tell me 'Hugo's gonna handle it' and expect not to worry," I mutter, passing Drake the ball.
Drake sighed, stepping back to shoot a three. The ball goes over the backboard and I pass him another. "It's handled, Isaiah. Plus I got my piece and you got yours, Bobby ain't gonna mess with us," he reasoned. "Just drop it, bro, we'll talk about it later."
"That's what you said last night!" I protest. "I don't get why we can't just–"
"'Cause there's nothin' to talk about!" Drake argued, his voice rising as he goes to shoot another three. He dribbles the ball harshly before going to shoot, the ball hits the rim and bounces away from the basket. "You're fucking me up!" he yells, frustration obvious in his tone.
I shook my head. "Nah, this gang shit is fucking you up." I threw another ball his way, harder than before. "You said you were done."
"I know what I said! You think I'm happy Bobby's back on my family's case?" he attempts to shoot another three, this time the ball misses the basket completely. "Fuck!"
I watch as Drake angrily grabs the towel from around his neck and throws it to the ground. He rubs a hand down his face as a struggled groan comes from his mouth.
"Tell coach I'm goin' for a walk," he mutters, beginning to walk out the gym doors.
I go grab a spare ball from the shelf and step onto the free throw line to get set to shoot. I make sure my feet are firmly placed on the court while my left elbow is tucked to my side. I study the rim for a quick second, making sure to shoot left instead of right since our rim was lopsided from a player trying to dunk.
The ball is released from my grip and flying towards the basket. It hits the orange rim and bounces the opposite direction, hitting the bleachers instead.
"Shit," I mumble to myself.
I was off my game today. When I first got here I had forgotten my basketball shoes in my bad at home, leaving me to have to wear Ty's for the entirety of practice. Today Coach decided to have us play against each other to build up our skills for Friday's game. I was on a team with Eric, Gabriel, Xavier, and Deontay, playing against Drake, Quincy, Armando, DayDay, and Ty. We were tied up until Quincy faked me out and I fell on my ass, letting them score the winning point. The most embarrassing part was that it was a dunk.
Quincy and I have been rivaling since freshman year. Well, he's been trying to outdo me for years while I've just been trying to play ball like normal. Everything I did, he tried to do better. When I grew an extra five inches freshman year and realized I could dunk, Quincy went to outside practices to learn how to jump higher. When I scored the winning point at championships our sophomore year he was the only player who didn't congratulate me on being MVP.
Oh and let's talk about the time he found out I was captain and he was still co-captain. He refused to pass me the ball for weeks. Coach had to have a talk with him after he almost caused us a loss to another rival school. The whole being bi thing didn't help either. Quincy and I were pretty chill off-court but ever since Monday, he's been distant.
"Isaiah, can we talk for a minute?" my coaches voice piped, removing me from my thoughts.
I turn to face him, he was wearing that ugly green hat that everyone hated. "Yeah wassup?"
"How's Drake doing? I just saw him walk outta here on yellin' at someone on the phone." Coach questioned.
"He's gotta a lot of stuff going on at home," I say without telling the whole truth. "He'll be good by the game."
Coach smiles through his thick beard. "Good. Hey listen," his voice turns to a whisper. "I know we already talked about the whole gay thing but don't let it get in the way of your skills, okay? We got a lot of scouts lookin' at you and I don't want you to mess it up."
He doesn't want me to mess it up? Are you serious?
"I appreciate that coach, but being bisexual doesn't affect the way I play," I say, subtly correcting him.
"I know that Isaiah, but scouts and colleges don't. People are afraid of what's different," he explains. "Listen, I know you wanna be all touchy-touchy with your boyfriend at the games, but maybe keep it to a minimum if you're lookin' for a scholarship. I gotta guy from UCLA comin' to Friday's game to look at you."
I raise a brow. "UCLA?" I ask surprised.
"Yes! Scouts from Kentucky and Syracuse are comin' too."
That meant I had to show out at this game. UCLA is one of the hardest schools in Cali to get into and the University of Kentucky and Syracuse have really high draft rates into the NBA. Getting a scholarship into one of those school would be a dream for anyone coming out of lower bottoms.
The only downside was not getting to be affectionate at the game with Amour. I mean, it's not like I was going to anyways since my dad was gonna be there, but if he wasn't why should my coach care?
"But wait," I say confused. "I don't get why I can't be out at my games."
Coach sighs, taking off his hat to scratch his bald head. "Isaiah, you've had straight A's since 9th grade, no behavior strikes, and if we're keepin' it real, you're our best player. The only reason good colleges wouldn't want you is that you're a black man from the hood. Now, you're a black, bisexual, man from the hood. Plus, there's never been an openly bisexual man in the NBA or college basketball."
"They won't wanna accept me cause I gotta boyfriend?"
"People aren't as accepting as the kids 'round here. Hell, the adults over here are still in their old ways. That's just how the world is kid, you can do everything right and still be wrong in the eyes of the ignorant." he shrugs.
I sighed. It felt like God was doing everything he could to make my life continuously difficult. It's not like I'm living on the streets begging for food, I'm not homeless, starving, and we aren't exactly poor. I had it better than a lot of people, but I still got Bobby on my tail, a big ass secret that I'm keeping from my parents, and now I don't even know if I can get a scholarship because of it.
Momma always told me a have to work hard in school to get somewhere. I know she wants the best for me but between dad's medical bills and Sarai's college fund, they don't got the money to send me to UCLA or Syracuse. This scholarship means everything to us. It doesn't matter if I don't wanna play ball in college, I have to make it to the big league so I can move my family outta the hood. I have to do it so Sarai doesn't have to worry about college, so Momma doesn't have to work on her days off, and so Pop can finally pay off his hospital bills.
That's my job. And the only thing in my way is my sexuality.
Man, fuck that.
Coach reaches to place his large hand on my shoulder. "You're gonna make a change Isaiah. You don't have to let everyone know your every move, but I know you're gonna impact a lot of people in future. I'm counting on you." he smiles, giving me a pat before walking out the door.
I smile back, giving him a nod before heading to the bleachers to pick up my bag.
"Trouble in paradise?" Quincy pipes from behind me, causing me to jump.
I squint at him, the sound of his voice is already giving me a headache. "Fuck off Quincy I'm not in the mood."
His large lips formed into a smirk. "Ty wanted to you leave his shoes by his locker, he'll come by and get them tomorrow."
"He couldn't tell me that himself?"
"He doesn't wanna catch the infection." Quincy shrugs.
"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" I ask harshly.
"I dunno," he says, that stupid smirk still on his stupid face. "Good luck at the game on Friday."
With that Quincy gives me a forced smile and leaves the gym, throwing his bag over his shoulder. It gives me a weird feeling considering he's never told me good luck in the now four years that we've played together.
I bet those bitches stole something from my locker.
I grab my bag off the floor and rush into the empty lock rooms, preparing myself to fight anyone who decided to touch my shit.
It's dark. I turn on the light switch and walk towards my black locker, which was covered in some kinda paint that looked like it formed a word. The closer I got the clearer the words became, I was praying that I was just seeing things but now I was right there. I didn't know what to do, so I stood there, my fist balling as I reread the pink paint that messily spelled out: FAIRY.
Fucking Quincy.
I opened my locker harshly, the metal door swinging open to reveal a note left on top of my clothes.
"Fairy's can't jump. Watch yourself, King."
I could feel myself getting angrier by the second. I knew Quincy had it out for me but does he really think he can threaten me and get away with it? And he spelled fairies wrong.
I could punch him in his stupid fucking face.
I snatched the note from my locker and crumbled it up into a ball, wondering if I should even go to Principal Diaz about it. I mean, she had a weird crush on me and if I even tried to talk to her about it she would end up talking to my parents about it. That's an automatic death wish.
I huffed, throwing the piece of paper into the trash before stuffing my regular clothes into my bag and leaving the gym.
***
***
I love going to party stores, it makes me feel like a little kid again.
Since Isaiah and Reese's birthday is coming up next week, Drake and I have been secretly shopping for party decorations any chance we got. It was a little easier to do it today after school since Drake and Isaiah got into a little fight a few days ago.
I guess Isaiah is mad a Drake because he won't tell him what going on so now they're going on their third day without talking. Hell, I don't even feel like talking to Drake either, he's been in a pissy mood all day and none of my bad jokes have helped.
"What's Reese's favorite color?" I ask, walking next to Drake as he pushes the cart.
"Yellow," he mumbles, not looking up from his phone.
"Isaiah's is purple," I say aloud. "Hey, those are the colors of the Lakers! That's his favorite team so it works perfectly."
Drake's expression doesn't change. "Mhmm."
I send him a glare that he doesn't even catch. "So how many people are we inviting?" I ask, stopping and grabbing a couple packs of gold and yellow plates.
"Not that many."
"Who do you think should DJ? I mean, I can do it but I'd rather not stand there and play music the whole night." I question, trying to spark some kind of conversation.
"I got a guy."
Okay, that's it.
I huff before throwing the plates into the shopping cart, causing Drake to move his eyes away from his phone for a split second. I lean over the front of the cart, stopping it and staring holes into Drakes' head.
"Can you take me to the hospital?" I ask abruptly.
His phone clicks off as he raises a brow. "What? Why?"
"My back hurts from carrying this conversation," I stated dryly.
Drake squints and I squint harder. He must not realize that I have two younger siblings, I can do this all day.
"I'm not in the mood for jokes, Amour."
"And I'm not in the mood for your trash attitude but here we are," I sass. "Your problems aren't an excuse to act like a bitch."
Now I have his attention. Drake raises from his slouching stance and leans forward. "Don't talk about shit you don't understand." he sneers.
"Then help me understand stupid. I can't help you if you don't talk to me."
"You've been spending too much time with Isaiah." he rolls his eyes.
"Drake," I say sternly.
He huffs, running his hand through his curls before nodding for me to get onto the shopping cart. I comply, standing on the front end while Drake pushes me into the back of the store where all the Halloween decorations lurk. I watch as he rests his hands on top of his head, looking up at the ceiling before taking a deep sigh.
"Drake–"
"My brother's gonna die."
"Huh?" I question, my eyebrows drawing together.
"Hugo," Drake stresses. "I have this feeling deep down in my stomach that Bobby's gonna kill him and I can't do anything about it. He knows about the money and there's no way he won't try to get revenge Amour. It's either him or me...or the both of us."
"Drake don't say that," I cautioned. "Listen to me, you're one of my best friends. You, Reese, Isaiah, and I are a team, if Bobby tries to get to you or you're brother then he'll have to go through the three of us first."
"That's the thing! It's my fault that y'all are involved with this. This is supposed to be my problem and I dragged you guys into it." he sighs.
I frown, walking over to him so I could look him in the eyes. I held onto one of his hands, not in a romantic way, but to let him know that I was there. "Listen to me, this isn't your fault. Distancing yourself from us won't drive us away Drake, we're not leaving anytime soon." I smiled.
Drake squeezed my hand and pulled me into a tight hug. It's crazy to think that a few months ago he tried to fight me when we first met.
"I'm glad I met you Amour."
I pulled away, raising my hand to wipe the single tear that had fallen down his cheek.
"I'm glad I met you too, Honoret."
***
***
"Aight so the next problem is finding two nonnegative numbers whose sum is 9 so the product of one number and the square of the other number is a maximum," Isaiah says through my computer screen.
I look at the words written in my calculus textbook, not understanding a single thing about what the question was asking. Isaiah and I have been on Facetime for over an hour now, while my boyfriend was trying to be a good tutor, I was losing focus and trying to change the subject any chance I got.
I can't believe I still have five months of this shit.
"Are you sure you're speaking English?" I ask, rereading the question for the fourth time.
His deep laugh echoes through the room, I can't help but drool over how hot his smile is. "You gotta differentiate the right-hand side babe," he explains.
I groan loudly, scribbling down some numbers into an equation before showing him my notebook. I watch as Isaiah puts on his square black glasses to get a better look. I thought it was adorable that Isaiah needed reading glasses, but apparently, he thinks they make him look more like a nerd than he already is.
"Aye, you got it. Now you gotta differentiate the equation using the product rule and chain rule. So in the end, 'X' should equal nine or three." Isaiah trails off, scribbling into his notebook.
I follow his orders and change up the equation, smiling to myself when I found that my answer was the same as Isaiah's.
"Now I have to use the sign chart thing right?" I clarify.
"Yeah, and your answer is..."
"One-hundred-and-eight?"
"One-hundred-and fucking eight!"
I let out a hoot while spinning around in my desk chair. Isaiah was on the other side of the screen cheering with me. We've been working on this unit for almost two weeks and I was finally starting to get it. I swear, if I had any other tutor I would probably be failing calculus at this point. Luckily I had Isaiah was good at explaining things. There was something about his deep voice that made me want to listen to every word he said, even if it was about functions.
"Are we done for the night? My brain can't take anymore." I ask hopefully.
"We're done," he chuckled. "I'm proud of you. If we were in person I might just kiss you."
I raise a brow. "Are you trying to flirt with me, King?"
"I'm always trying to flirt with you."
I rest my cheek on my hand, trying to hide my blush. "Aren't your parents home? You're being kinda loud." I say.
"They went to pick up Sarai from a sleepover, she called and said she thinks her white friends are tryna pull a "Get Out" on her." he shook his head playfully.
"I'll add that to the list of reasons why I love Sarai." I laughed.
Isaiah rolled his eyes. "She's a handful I'll tell you that," he smiled. "But, that means we can talk about anything since no one is here."
His change in tone was able to send shivers down my spine while also sending heat to my cheeks. There was an underlying message that both of us were aware of, our only obstacle was my family of four surrounding the rooms next to me.
"Slow down Romeo, I have thin walls and you have a game tomorrow," I told.
"Yeah...I've been meaning to talk to you about that." Isaiah murmurs, looking at his hands.
"I'm listening," I say, tilting my head a little to the side.
"My parents are gonna be there and you know my Pop, he's gonna be watching my every move so–"
"So we have to act like friends," I finished his sentence for him. "Zay, you told me your dad was coming like, a week ago. I already figured we were acting straight."
His brows drew together. "You're not mad?" he asked surprised.
"Why would I be mad?
"I dunno," he shrugs. "I guess I figured you wanted us to look like a couple at the games."
"Saiah, this night is about you, not me. It's not my place to get in the way of something as big as your future. I know there's gonna be scouts at the game, and as much as you say you don't wanna play basketball in college I know you do. Tomorrow is important for you, a little pretending won't kill me." I laugh.
A wave of silence ran over the two of us. Isaiah's frown slowly formed into a smile, and although we were looking at each other through a screen, his eyes found mine. It was like he was there in person, everything about him was revealed with the connection of two dark eyes.
"Amour?"
"Yeah?"
"I...really appreciate you."
My lips tug into a smile.
And I think I'm falling in love with you.
***
Amour Arreaga
What did y'all think about this chapter?
Do you think Bobby is going to try to get revenge on Hugo or Drake and his friends?
How do you feel about Amour and Isaiah's relationship?