When an unknown number woke me up as early as half past six in the morning, I didn't think Charlie would be at the other end or that 30 minutes later, I'd be stumbling sleepily towards the new Mo Ostin basketball centre. The morning air was bright and chilly which added to the piling list of things pissing me off.
The fact that I couldn't get a venti in me is the most infuriating. The new sports centre that was built specifically for the basketball is a long walk from Starbucks which would have meant getting two shuttles instead of 1. I simple do not have the finances for that.
I push open the door that leads inside the modern building. Grateful for the warmth I pull down the hood of the grey Harvard hoodie I'm wearing, my eyes dancing around to take in the reception. There's no receptionist-because everyone's still in bed-so I walk towards the first blue door I could see. When I peep in through the glass panel, I notice the indoor court is empty. I push the door open and step in.
Looking around the team pictures stuck on the walls around the court, I realise it's the women's court and start walking to the door on the other side. I walk past a common room with a stocked fridge, a large ass gym, the girl and boy's locker room before reaching a set of brown double doors. As I step closer to the door, I catch some movements through the glass and my heart skips slightly. Anxiety builds in my chest as I realise I have no idea what I'm doing.
I should have stayed the hell in bed.
I blow out a quick breath and push the door open before I can chicken out and decide against it. I'm shocked at the intensity of the music blasting through the speakers hung next to a big tv screen on the wall. As soon as i step in, It seems like everything stops and all eyes narrow at me as I stand by the sidelines awkwardly. I half expect the grey haired coach to walk over and kick me out but he doesn't. Instead, he yells at the players to 'move their asses.' I'm surprised they can hear him over the voice of Roddy Ricch. A soundproof basketball court, who woulda thunk?
Not me.
I search for Charlie amongst the array of white and blue jerseys. When I see him, he points towards the seats at the corner of the court. 2 boys are there watching the game. Both of them I recognise as Dante Kingsley and Wesley Sandler. I glare at Charlie. No way. But he simply shrugs as the ball gets handed to him and continues playing leaving me there to worry about sitting next to people I don't know.
God! I really should have stayed in bed.
Okay. I think as I walk towards the seat, my heart thumping slightly as I try to act as calm as possible even though I'm freaking out on the inside. The both of them are so engrossed in the game that they don't even turn to look at me as I sit down and set my bag on an empty seat to separate us. I'm more relieved than offended as I rummage through my bag to check the time. The screen of the device lights up immediately as my 7.30 alarm goes off. I roll my eyes and hit snooze before settling in my seat while hoping they both don't notice I'm next to them.
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.
"I don't know anybody called Mark."
"You don't?"
"No." I reply seriously taken aback by the accusation.
"I'm here for an interview."
He scrutinises me like he doesn't believe me and I swallow nervously. "I hope you're not lying because you can go to prison for that. A pretty girl like you would not survive prison."
I can? I hear the Wesley guy scoff.
"I swear that I'm here for an interview. My name's Lorraine Perabo and I work for The Daily Bruin. I'm here to interview Charlie Murtaugh, he asked me to come. You can ask him your-what's funny?" I frown.
"The look on your face right now is epic." Dante laughs giving me the vibe that he was pulling my legs. I sigh in relief, a smile replacing the frown that overtook my features. "I know who you are Lorraine."
"You do?" I ask in confusion.
"You just told me everything I need to know. You know you shouldn't tell a stranger everything about yourself just because you're scared. You've made it really easy for me to steal your identity." I blink at the harshness of his tone, my mind suddenly going blank.
"I'm..sorry?"
"Dude, cut it out." Wesley says.
Dante laughs, his eyes almost disappearing as his hand reach out "I'm just kidding." I let out a nervous laughter still confused about this whole situation "Charlie asked me to mess with you a little bit since you looked bored out of your mind."
Of course he did. I glance at Charlie but he looks pretty focused on the game. I turn back to Dante, feeling a bit grateful for the unnecessary but effective distraction.
"I'm not bored." I tell him which isn't entirely a lie. "Just tired."
"We all are. Coach made us stay an extra 30 minutes because someone pissed him off. But we finish in 10 and can finally leave."
"Kingsley and Sandler, get your asses back on the court!" The coach yells proving Dante's point which makes me laugh a little. "Sub for Walter and Cruz."
"Duty calls." He rolls his eyes as he gets up. Before leaving, he turns around with a genuine smile "It was nice meeting you Lorraine."
"Nice meeting you too." I reply as he jogs into the court after Wesley. I can't help but realise I wasn't nervous around Dante. Most conversations make me feel anxious which makes me detest talking to new people but speaking to Dante wasn't hard at all. I think it's the way he started the conversation in a natural, lighthearted manner. Kinda makes me like him a little bit. Plus he called me pretty.
Exactly ten minutes later, the music stops and practice finally ends but the boys shoot some free throws for an extra ten minutes before huddling around the coach and his assist for a talk. I grab my bag when they do that hands together, count to three, yell your team's name thingie before pushing myself off the chair. Most of the boys start walking towards the door I came in-including Bradley. He doesn't even look at me once which shouldn't hurt. But it does. I guess I shouldn't have thought we were friends because of one conversation. Or maybe he's just tired -they all look pretty tired. I notice Charlie standing in the middle of the court, talking with some teammates.
Like he can tell I'm looking at him, he turns around and starts walking towards me with a charisma he shouldn't be able to pull off in a sweat drenched jersey. So I don't look like I'm loverstruck, I glare at him and decide to meet him halfway with the question that's burning on the tip of my tongue.
"What am I doing-" Charlie pushes my forehead down slightly to angle my face before settling his lips on mine. The kiss totally caught me off guard and my brain doesn't understand how to respond. His mouth is soft and warm-not exactly how I imagined it'd be like and I feel the bottom of my belly quaver. I can hear some of his friends whistling in the background like teenagers who are excited about their friend finally getting laid, making me realise that they can all see this. Charlie pulls back before I can react and push him off him-maybe award him with a deserving slap. His lips curl into a smile, his blue eyes resting on my face with a playful glint. He can't just do that. He can't kiss me without my permission. What is his problem? "What was-?"
"I'll meet you outside."
We ended up at a little breakfast place close to the sports centre. I can't help the small wave of anger I'm feeling. He had no right kissing me in front of all those people without my permission. That is simply unacceptable and if it were up to me, I would have left immediately. But I need this bloody interview so that I can call this whole thing off. I need to call it off, fast.
"Are you still not talking to me?" Charlie asks as soon as we settle in a booth next to the window and order our food. I ignore him because quite frankly I don't want to hear it. I don't want to talk about the kiss because I don't want to think about the stupid kiss. I'm not going to think about it because it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. "You're going to have to speak to me at one point today sophomore."
"Yes," I say "and that is to ask you questions," I ruffle through my bag and bring out the paper that has the questions Melissa had drafted herself and my notepad and pen so that I can also jot down the answers. "Do you mind if I record this?" I ask because Melissa asked me to and he shakes his head. I place my phone between us and hit the record button. Looking at the list of questions, I let out a deep breath hoping I can get through each one without stumbling on my word "How did being part of the UCLA team affect you as an athlete and as a person?"
Charlie pops his plastered brows at me and I assume he didn't think the questions would start off as it did. Melissa didn't joke about, she went straight to the heavy stuff.
"It's been great--" he starts off before clearing his throat "--um, being part of this team has not only given me the opportunity to grow as a person but also, I, uh-- I've gotten to share the court with great players like Dante Kingsley, Bradley Wilson, Ryan Murphy and Sawyer Harrington—who have all been signed by the NBA this summer."
He almost sounds nervous which is weird because I'm pretty sure athletes get interviewed all the time. Either way, I shrug it off because it's none of my business. He's probably still suffering from a headache from last night's fight. Must be the reason why he kissed me too.
I force myself focus on the paper in front of me than have to look up at him. I didn't think I'd still be nervous about the interview, all things considered.
"How has your relationship with Coach Riley influenced you on the court?"
"Riley and I are pretty solid." He replies immediately. "He's like a father figure to me. To all of us. And most time it seems like he's being difficult or being a hardass but he's just doing what's best for us-and the team. Knowing that I have someone who believes in me and tries to make me the best version of myself, on and off the court, is a continuous source of motivation for me."
"What are your strengths and weaknesses as both an athlete and a person?"
Charlie lets out a low whistle before saying that he was waiting for the question. Can't blame him though, that's every reporter's go to question.
"I think my biggest weakness is that I suck at time management which is really important for an athlete but I'm working on it. And my strengths are that I have a sense of awareness about the game. I have a strong mind. Desire to get better. I'm mentally tough. confident, determined, passionate--" I can't help the tiny snort at the last description of himself. I think it's funny that he's only mentioned one weakness (which I could definitely mention a few more) and a few strengths.
"Have you got something to say sophomore?" Charlie asks "you don't think I'm passionate?"
"I'm sure you are." I reply sarcastically before moving on to the next question. "What challenges did you come across in getting to where you are today?"
"My accident."
Charlie doesn't say more than that which prompts me to stop writing and look up at him but Charlie's eyes are fixated on his phone. He doesn't look like he wants to add anything to his answer and that's giving me the vibe that I'm about to overstep my boundaries. I close my eyes quickly before letting the next question pile out of my mouth.
Asking deep and personal questions is a part of this. There's nothing I can do about it. "What impact would you say your accident had on your athleticism?"
"My accident didn't affect shit--" Charlie leans against the red leather seat of the cafe which makes me swallow. I'm starting to get the feeling he's angry. "-sorry, my accident didn't affect me." He adds.
I clear my throat "Following your accident, you were benched for an entire season. How do you think-"
"I don't want to fucking talk about my accident-" I glance up at him completely caught off guard by the tone of his voice. His face is void of emotions, eyes blazing in mine making me feel the intensity of his words. Feeling like a child that has just been reprimanded, I look down to the piece of paper in my hand "I don't want to talk about my accident and I don't want it on the article. I told Melissa about this already."
That's funny because Melissa still included his accident in the questions.
"Okay, alright. I won't talk about your accident."
The atmosphere tenses up a little bit and my eyes skim past the next three questions which are about his accident. Although I am disappointed about the fact that I can't get all the information I need, I understand this might be a touchy subject for him. I Can't force him to do what he isn't comfortable with.
"Look, I'm sorry okay. It's just not something I like talking about." Charlie admits which makes my eyes flick up to look at him.
"It's fine, you don't have to apologise." I give him a tight lipped smile before looking down at the questions. "Will you be declaring your draft?"
"Yes. I'm eligible for the draft and Coach Riley is pretty confident I'd make top-three pick." I stay quiet fully understanding his silent emphasis on-but I don't think so. Knowing this has to do with his accident, I overlook it and go to the last question.
"What teams are you eyeing at the moment?"
"LA Lakers, Boston Celtics, Houston Rockets, Miami Heat and LA Clippers. But I'm a huge Lakers fan so really if I had a choice, I'd pick them."
I make a mental note to research on NBA teams as I jot them down. Proudness swells in me as I finish off the last sentence. Although, I didn't write everything down word for word, I'm happy that the interview is over. I'm even happier that I can now tell Charlie that I'm done with him and he can feel free to go to hell for all I care.
Ok, I'm not going to say it like that but..
I stop the recording and start to pack up my things.
"So that's it?" I hear him ask in a much lighter tone than before.
Without looking up, I nod "yes. That's everything I need from you." Which means I no longer need you. Charlie Murtaugh.
Charlie leans closer, his hands resting on the table. "So that means it's time for you to fulfil your end of the deal."
I make sure everything I used for the interview is safely tucked into my bag before turning to face Charlie with a fake sad smile. "Charlie," I sigh dramatically for effect as I place my hands on the table "there is no deal." I announce with every ounce of coolness in me. Only if Shade could see me now, she'd know my acting skills aren't as bad as she thinks.
Charlie busts out laughing which surprises me-and pisses me off. That is quite frankly not the reply I was hoping to get. I don't know what exactly I was expecting but it's certainly not him laughing in my face like I'm Adam Sandler and I just made a joke.
Ignoring that he looks very hot with a smile on his face, I scowl and pull away from the table "And what's so funny?"
"You-" he lets out a throaty laugh while shaking his head. I roll my eyes at him getting slightly annoyed by his obnoxious laughter. Charlie finally sobers up "you're very funny." When I don't smile he continues "We made an agreement. You cannot break an agreement mid-agreement."
"I slept on it and realised it's a horrible idea. I want out."
"It's funny you didn't mention that before the interview." Charlie stares at me for more than necessary. Even though my heart race slightly increases I don't let his gaze intimidate me and I don't look away. "Whatever cunning plan you think you've come up with isn't going to work sophomore."
"I'm not planning-"
My eyes follow Charlie as he stands up. He pulls out his wallet before slipping a 20 dollar bill on the table. "See you later sophomore." He says before walking out of the diner, leaving me dumbfounded.