The Game Of Falling

Chapter 2: Asher Joseph

The girl kissing Asher Joseph had no idea he wasn't thinking about her.

Her fingers were tangled in his hair, her lips moved insistently against his, and her perfume was so strong that it should have been enough to keep his attention on her.

Yet Asher could barely remember her name. Madison? Megan?.

He tilted his head, allowing her to deepen the kiss while his eyes remained closed, hoping that if he pretended hard enough, the noise of the party would drown out the memory he had been fighting since the final whistle of the game.

It never worked. The memory took over his mind.

"You're incredible, son.”

The memory arrived so suddenly that Asher's chest tightened.

He was eight again, standing on a cracked driveway with a basketball, his knees scraped from falling and his cheeks wet with tears.

His father stood a few feet away "Come on, champ. One more time."

"I can't do it, Dad!"

"Of course you can. You're just getting frustrated because you want to be good at everything immediately."

"I keep missing!"

"And one day, you're going to miss a shot that matters, too. What are you going to do then?"

Young Asher had sniffled, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "Quit?"

"Not my boy. You're going to pick up that ball, plant your feet, and shoot again."

He had demonstrated the movement slowly, guiding Asher's small hands into position before stepping back to let him try.

The ball had struck the rim, bounced off the backboard, and dropped through the net.

Asher screamed. His father had lifted him into the air, laughing as though his son had just won the greatest championship in the world.

"Did you see that, Dad? Did you see?"

"I saw it, champ." His father's smile had been so wide that the corners of his eyes crinkled. "And I'm telling you right now, one day, you're going to be a great basketball player. A real star."

His father's voice was always so clear in these memories that sometimes he could almost convince himself the man was still alive, waiting somewhere beyond the doors of the arena, ready to pull him into a hug after a game.

Then reality would return, merciless and uninvited, and remind him that the person he wanted to see most in the world would never walk through those doors.

Tonight, he'd scored twenty-eight points, delivered six assists, and helped Westwood secure a victory that had sent the entire arena into a frenzy.

His teammates had surrounded him, screaming his name.

The crowd had chanted until their voices grew hoarse. His coach had gripped his shoulders and told him he was proud.

And all Asher had wanted was to turn toward the stands and find his father smiling at him.

A painful lump formed in Asher's throat.

He pressed his lips more firmly against the blonde girl's, trying to force the memory away, but the harder he fought it, the sharper it became.

His eyes burned. Damn it.

He blinked rapidly, forcing the tears back before they could gather enough courage to fall.

He slid one hand around her waist, attempting to surrender to the noise, the music, and the mindless distraction of having someone pressed against him.

Then a voice cut through the room. “Hey you!”

The voice was sharp enough that the girl kissing him paused.

He opened his eyes, irritation already building at the interruption, and found himself staring at a stranger standing a few feet away.

She wore an oversized charcoal hoodie, loose black trousers, and sneakers that looked as though they had survived several wars.

Her hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, with a few rebellious strands framing her face, and there wasn't an obvious trace of makeup on her skin.

She looked completely out of place.

This girl looked as though she'd been dragged out of bed against her will. And somehow, she was the most beautiful girl Asher had ever seen.

Her eyes were bright and expressive, her features delicate without looking fragile, and her lips were set in a firm line.

She looked at him as though he had personally offended her. He straightened slightly in his chair, his arm still resting around the blonde girl.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

Avery's eyes flicked toward the children's book on the table behind him. "Not unless you can learn how to teleport."

A few people nearby snickered.

Asher raised an eyebrow. Most girls who approached him at parties could barely string a sentence together without blushing.

He glanced down at his jersey, then back at her oversized clothes.

"Sorry, sweetheart, the charity event isn't today. If you're looking for donated clothes, I'm afraid you've got the wrong room."

The room erupted in laughter.

The blonde girl covered her mouth, giggling against his shoulder.

Asher smiled, pleased that he had managed to turn the interruption into entertainment.

Before she could respond, Clyde came between them.

"Hey, man. Don't make fun of her."

Asher frowned at Clyde, surprised by the sudden change in his tone.

Clyde wasn't usually the kind of guy who got worked up over a joke.

"What?" Asher asked innocently. "I'm being helpful."

"She's my sister's best friend."

"And?"

Clyde's jaw tightened. "And you don't have to be an asshole to her."

Before Asher could say anything else, Avery turned on Clyde. "I can speak for myself, Clyde. I don't need you fighting my battles."

Clyde blinked. "Avery. I was just—"

"Being unnecessarily dramatic? Yes, I noticed."

Avery turned back to Asher. "And you."

Asher's eyebrows rose."Me?. What did I do now?"

"Nothing. I'm just trying to understand how a man can spend an entire evening throwing a ball through a hoop and still be so painfully desperate for a laugh."

Somewhere behind Asher, somebody choked on a drink.

Tyler, one of the teammates whispered, "Holy shit."

Asher's jaw tightened. "That's a lot of attitude for someone who looks like she got dressed in the dark."

"And that's a lot of confidence for someone whose personality seems to have been left in the locker room."

A collective gasp swept through the room.

"Do you always talk this much," he asked, "or am I just lucky tonight?"

"Do you always make out like an animal in public, or is that part of your basketball training?"

Laughter exploded around the room.

Asher's voice dropped slightly. "You don't know who you're talking to."

Avery tilted her head. "You're right. I don't. And judging by what I've seen so far, I'm not missing much."

Someone muttered, "Damn."

Asher rose from the chair, carefully moving the blonde girl aside as he straightened to his full height.

He was six feet four, broad-shouldered, and built from years of training, with enough muscle to make most people think twice before provoking him.

He leaned forward slightly, looking down at her.

"Listen, sweetheart. I don't know what your problem is, but you walked into my space, interrupted me, and started running your mouth like you own the place."

She lifted her chin and looked him straight in the eye.

"Your space?. Last time I checked, this was a university residence, not your personal kingdom. But congratulations on winning a basketball game. I hope the attention helps compensate for whatever is missing in your life."

The words struck harder than Asher expected.

"Not everyone considers your presence a life-changing experience, Joseph."

Asher's expression hardened. "You're welcome to leave."

"Trust me, that was always the plan." She stepped forward and reached past him, picked up the brave rabbit book and tucked it beneath her arm.

Then she turned toward the door and simply walked away as though the entire confrontation had been an inconvenient interruption to her evening.

For several seconds, nobody spoke.

Marcus, let out a low whistle. "Well, damn, Joseph. I think you just met your match."

Asher slowly turned toward him. "Shut up."

The room burst into laughter.

The blonde girl touched his arm, trying to reclaim his attention, but he barely noticed her.

"What was her name?" he asked Clyde.

Clyde, who was still watching the door, looked at him suspiciously. "Why?"

Asher shot him a flat look. "Because I'm asking."

Clyde hesitated, then answered. "Avery Bennett."

Asher repeated the name silently. Avery Bennett, f**k you.