This is hell.
Practice is hell.
And the string of curse I feel rising in my throat on cement the way I'm feeling.
Fuck.
I groan inwardly, as the pace stops on the opposite side of the gym. We've been doing conditioning drills since we got here two and half hours ago, now where on courts favorite activity of them all, half court sprints.
And with the fleeting look Coach Thompson is giving us only reassures me that we're no way from being finished and that he's ticked. I grab the front of my shirt wiping the sweat from my forehead, a slight breeze of air passes over me causing a shiver to run through my body. We're three weeks away from our first game of the season and coach isn't having any bullshit, especially not ours, and after everything that transpired in last year's March Madness tournament.
But as soon as two of our freshman players, Foster and Andrew decided to blow chunks at the beginning is the only reason coach is dragging this shit out even further.
"See now that wasn't so hard, if only you did this the first go around" Coach says, referencing Logan and Parker. "Now quit lolling around and line back up, one more set and I'll send you guys home early or start again. I'm feeling extra generous today boys don't tempt me." He says arms crossed over his chest, clipboard in hand—smirking at us. Looking directly at the two culprits lagging around.
Tre and Keegan.
A loud groan sounds through the facility causing all eyes to fall on Carter and Davis, with glares suggesting don't fuck this up. Not that Tre cares he's probably still aggravated about the shit we pulled the other day with pouring water on him, and all I suspect is confirmed when he opens his mouth.
"Come on coach, you know you don't want to do that" Tre says smirking, as Nate hits him on the back of the head telling him to shut the fuck up. "Keep it up Carter, or we'll be here for the rest of the night, try me?" Coach suggest, raising his brow—daring Tre. I rest my hand on my hip taking a look around, as the guys appear exhausted—we're gassed. And if we have to keep doing this, I'm forsure going to pass out.
"Okay fine, promise to do it right this time coach" Tre says, holding his hands up in surrender with a smug look gracing his face.
This little bitch.
A nudge to my shoulder pulls me, "the little shit is lying, watch him fuck up on purpose" Nate breathes, raking a hand through his sweaty hair.
"He better not" I say under a steady breath as we line back behind the baseline. Coach grips his whistle between his lips before uttering "go". We take off at the sound, running towards the opposite end, one after the other. Making quick work to the edge before sprinting back to the other side, before a loud thump sounds. Because that could either be two things, my ears are playing tricks on me or someone just fell. Clenching my jaw so hard, I'm surprised it doesn't break because we're about to have to redo this shit.
I turn around to see Tre on the ground shooting his hands up in surrender, as Nate turns to me and mouths, told you so. "I swear I didn't do that on purpose, the floors were wet" He says, pulling himself off the ground. Coach shakes his head, pressing a hand to his forehead, muttering under his breath "I don't get paid enough to deal with this shit."
"Alright, start over." Coach grins setting off the next pace.
• • •
Stepping out of the shower, I turn off the hot water off—wrapping the white towel around my waist. The new state of the art locker room is tricked out to the nines. Newly renovated showers with frosted glasses doors, that lead to upgraded players locker room and players lounge. Individual mirrored lockers with three dimensional university logos with our names over the top. Shit's is nice as hell.
Walking back into the locker room, I stop in front of my locker while the side conversations commence around me as I pull out my gym bag as the sounds of drake play through the speakers. When you're with the same guys all the time you become accustomed to seeing guys walk around like the day they were born.
"Dude you can't be serious right now" Tre laughs sarcastically at Keegan, regarding him as he pulls his shirt over his head. "that's like saying LeBron the GOAT over MJ and we all know that's not true.
"Bro c'mon" Tre snickers, lips curling upward at the end. "You can't tell me that Dame isn't the best PG in the league and for the record Lebron is" He says, tying up his shoes, and dusting them off even though they're spotless. One thing there's to know about Keegan is he's a sneaker fanatic and is always strapped with the newest gear and releases.
"Did I just hear you right?" Tre cuffs his ear, bluffing. "You said Damien, fucking Damien Lilliard is better than Steph Curry. Get the fuck outta here."
"Can't help that it's a fact bro!" Keegan shrugs, giving him a bright smile as he pushes off the bench. This is an ongoing dispute with these two. The truth is they live by NBA stats, hell I do. But these two disagree a helluva lot on player statistics, it makes me wonder how they're best friends.
"Dude, whatever. Fact my ass." Tre huffs, grabbing his phone—no doubt pulling up stats from last night's Warriors game against the Blazers. "Sixty-two points, four assist and he played damn near the entire game without nearly any help and he dropped almost thirty more than your guy dame. He might be a beast on the court and have a ridiculous range, but he's not Curry." Tre shoots, gloating the win—earning an eye roll from Keegan.
"Jesus will you to agree to disagree" Reese rebuts in trying to fork it, before they delve into another debate.
"Yes, Mom" Tre deadpans, a smirk on his face as Reese lifts up his hand—flipping him off. "Anyway, what we are doing tonight? I seriously need to get drunk and laid" Keegan says.
"You need to be drunk to get laid" I say, smirking "Damn Keg that's a sad life"
"What?...You know what fuck you Jaxson" Keegan says, as Nate walks into the locker room sitting on the empty space beside me as I eye him curiously, cause he's sporting a giant ass mysterious smile. "We're getting fucked up. Boys, we're throwing a party."
"Tonight?" Keegan asks nonchalantly.
"No tomorrow" Nate says sarcastically rolling his eyes "Yes tonight"
"That's the shit what I like to hear" Tre grins, scrolling through his contact list sending out a mass text, as my phone buzzes on cue.
"I don't care what we do" I state firmly. "Just don't fuck up the house like last time"—it was completely trashed and the smell of beer reeked for weeks. The massive house party they threw a couple of weeks ago for Nate's twentieth birthday. It was a fucking disaster, cars blocked the curb, people where spilling out of the house— I wasn't the least bit surprised our neighbors called the cops, cited noise disturbance.
They let us off with a warning when they found out whose party it was, but that didn't stop them from asking for an autograph mid-way through it.
The attention is something I'm used to—people coming up to me asking pictures or wanting to talk percentages and the upcoming draft. I guess it comes with the territory of being a high projected profile—but it doesn't make any of this shit less weird or normal.
Nate was so faded and high—he didn't remember any of it—well besides the annoyed redhead the next morning in his bed. Keegan was passed out in the kitchen with a bottle of Smirnoff in his hand. Tre woke up at one of the sorority house, completely confused on how he got there. Calling me the next morning to come and pick him, only for me tell him to figure it out. Engrossing myself to the busty blonde that was sucking on my neck.
But when we showed up to practice facility the two days later, we knew coach got wind of it—leading practice to be hell.
"Making no promises" Nate grins, as he and Tre go over the logistics and setup. With the connections of these two either this shit is about to get outta hand or there will be enough liquor and beer to supply a whole country for months. Probably both.
"Aye, wait we need a theme?" Tre says abruptly, "Black Light" He adds, smirking.
Tonight's about to get interesting.
• • •
The thunderous bass of blaring music and murmurs fill the hollow open space of the house, as my door vibrates from the thumping bass going on down stairs. Right after Nate and Tre sent out a mass text to their entire contact list—there was little to no time before word got out that we were throwing a party. Which didn't go over well with Mrs. Carter—when she got the alert. That conversation started with a "really?" and Carter's definition of an excuse later. People start showing up just started, and the capacity is already to the max—not like that's going to stop people from showing up.
Multi Colored fluorescent lights create a bright hue of colors underneath my door, drawing my attention to the party going on outside my door. A bright glow of my phone draws my attention, and reading the name across the top I wished I never bothered looking at as I read the message.
{Dad} : I find it very disappointing and irresponsible of you to get yourself into trouble Jaxson.
{Dad} : Call me Immediately and don't ignore my message this time.
{Maddox} : Please for the love of god when you get time call dad back. He keeps blowing up my phone.
I bite down the string of irritation and colorful words I can feel rising in my throat and I dial back the long ass response I'm tempted to send. Although that'll just add to the already long list of the things he's going to want to lecture me on and I'll rather deal with that shit when I'm preferably wasted and won't remember half of it.
I press the power button on the side of my phone, hearing the distinct clicking sound of it locking before sliding it in my back pocket grabbing what I came for before leaving. A knock on my door draws my attention, as I look up to see Reese peek his head through my bedroom door.
"Hey Jax..." Reese hesitates, his brows draw together in confusion taking in my irritated demeanor, as I regard him. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. What's up?" I shrug, I can tell he knows I'm deflecting and not going to say anymore. His face pulls into a slight frown, but he's not going to press any further and I appreciate it, because getting into that shit with my dad right now is only going to piss me off.
"If you say so" Reese says still eyeing me curiously, "Dude, Tre's trying to send people to the fucking hospital with the amount of vodka he's pouring in this juice. " I can feel my brows pull—that sentiment alone immediately catches my attention, as we both file out of my room and I pull the door too.
I squint my eyes—needing a minute to adjust to the dark and bright colorful—rave-like atmosphere, as we pass by people at the end of the stairs-case. I wonder where in the hell did they get all this stuff last minute, but on second thought that's information I'd rather not know.
Not gonna lie though, it's kinda impressive. I'll give them that.
Walking into the kitchen, catching sight of the ridiculous amount of plastic neon shot cups and solo cups lining our front counter. Taking in the copious amount of liquor disregarded on the kitchen table. Damn did they buy the whole liquor store?
"Where in the hell did you get all this shit from?" I gesture to counter amongst other things, as Carter turns around from his position, a full grin on his face as he downs two bottles of grey goose in his hand into the cooler he's filling up. "Don't worry about that. It's all perfectly... somewhat legal" Tre smirks. With this much alcohol, they for sure carded him.
In a college town like this, and the stores we typically hit up, the clerks usually don't give a shit and wouldn't bat an eye. Getting used to the fact that college kids come in all the time, looking for something to have a good time. This has to be at least a thousand dollars worth of liquor with the names and amounts of each, but I wouldn't be surprised especially with their shiny black cards.
"Damn Carter " Reese says elbowing Tre in his side as he cluches at his side "Where are you trying to send us to the hospital?" His eyes widen slightly, "with alcohol poisoning or better yet cardiac arrest" He finishes, Tre rolls his eyes, dramatically.
"Okay that's enough" Reese grabs the bottles, as Tre sighs "I not cleaning up or dragging anyone out tonight"
"Oh cmon, It's a celebration boys" Tre practically yells.
"Of what?" I say, lifting a brow as I walk to the counter and he laughs "I don't know... but who the hell needs one." I can tell by the slight slur in his voice that he's had a couple drinks, and with the hazel gloss he's sporting, he's definitely buzzed—grabbing the half filled bottle of fireball and pulling it up to my lips and downing it.
I need something to nullify my annoyance and I'm starting with this and then I'm getting laid. I can see Reese from the corner of my eye give me a fleeting look, but I couldn't care right now. This night is intended for getting fucked up, and that's exactly what I plan on doing.
"Well then, pass the damn bottle Reed" Tre says, as hand it to him, and he chugs.
• Authors Note •
Hey Guys! I'm finally back with another update, after what felt like forever!
Who's ready for part 2, things are only getting started for the night and a certain someone will make an appearance.
Tell me your thoughts? I'm loving the new profession I'm taking this story in and ould love to hear the feedback of what you think about the story so far? Also Happy Valentines Day!!!
Please vote and comment!!!
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