His For A Year: The Basketball Lord's

Chapter Thirty

Austin blinked his confusion, while her gaze flickered from me to him, back to me then him, before a surprised chortle left her.

“Oh, you didn't tell me you had a girlfriend." She stared in disbelief.

Satisfaction flowed through me at the thought of letting her know the limits she could go with him.

But all that died down when I craned my head at Austin whose intense glare was able to shatter anyone's confidence.

I quickly jerked my direction to the still surprised- looking Mirabelle, suddenly having regret erupting inside of me.

What did I do? Why did I do such? What was I thinking when I blurted out I was his girlfriend?

My heart thumped against my ribcage, surprising me at how much annoyance her closeness with him had flowed in me.

What was that about?

“Oh my gosh Kim," Mirabelle still had nothing but amusement in her tone, “how did you do it? I didn't think he'd— uhm, date."

Now that regret seemed to claw my skin, the more she talked, the more I wished she'd just get going already.

But not to be rude, I replied with a small smile, also giving her the signal to stop talking already.

Which she obviously didn't get because she just started talking about how surprised she found it all and how some group of people would take the news.

“I think it's time for us to begin the training." His sharp tone came to my rescue, cutting her off.

“Now it makes sense why you'll randomly wanna teach her about basketball,” she smiled, “you want to teach your girlfriend about the sport.”

He didn't respond, just grabbed my wrist, pulling me towards the court, while she half walked and half skipped to a seat.

“What was that about?” Although his tone was low and stern, the sharpness in them enough to make me feel more abashed, there was an edge of surprise in them.

Once he let go of my hand, I hated the spark that flowed through it, leaving me far too aware of how his huge hand curled around it.

“Nothing, I just—” my cheeks burned in embarrassment, especially since I had nothing as a means of defense in such a situation.

It didn't help to be under the questioning gaze from his part.

“Can we just play already, I've got a place to be,” that seemed like the best means of escaping the question, not that I had anywhere else to be other than my house.

My feet moved me as far away from him as they could go. Anything but to be forced to answer a question I had no idea of the answer.

For a split second, I thought he was still going to dwell on the topic, but thankfully he strutted towards a basket holding a big brown ball, which he retrieved from it.

“Stay at that end, beside the net,” he commanded, which I immediately heeded to.

“Okay?”

“Now,” he went to stand beside the net, the ball in hand, “your goal is to throw this ball and it enters the net,”

My brain was in a sharp mode as I made a mental note of his words, “throw in the net, alright.”

“And you shouldn't hold the ball for a long period, you must've thrown it and caught it back within three seconds,” he threw it to the ground, but it bounced back up and surprisingly, he caught it as fast as it'd sprung to him.

Woah.

He did so multiple times, heading towards me as that happened, while I stared at the scene in awe, then, surprisingly, he threw it to me.

But sadly, I couldn't catch it and just ducked, which led to the ball dropping.

“When a player throws it to their fellow player, they're meant to catch it,” from his tone, I could already make out the fact he was certain how terrible of a player I was.

For the next thirty minutes, he explained more things to know about the sport while also demonstrating them.

That was awesome.

And then, “alright now, let's play,” he threw a ball at me, but surprisingly, I caught it, my hands gripping onto its side like they were some special possession.

“I'm not sure if I'm ready to be embarrassed yet,” though it wasn't supposed to be considered so, I felt this was a game of much importance and needed to win or not play at all.

“Come on, I'm just going to prevent you from scoring and nothing else,” he prodded, jogging backwards towards his side of the net.

“Alright, but if I fall on my face or butt, you mustn't comment, alright?” Because that would be even more embarrassing.

A small, but audible lopsided smile fell on his lips, “alright,”

With that, I started towards him, bouncing the ball like he'd said, but believe me when I say it looks easier when a pro's doing it, but for me, it just kept falling and I had to pick it up every time.

We played for about fifteen minutes, but I didn't get the ball through the net even once.

At some point, he left the post, giving me the entire net to score while I stood just five feet away, but still no scoring.

“You know what,” I tossed the ball at him, which he caught at ease, “maybe you should play and I'll just watch because I'm exhausted,”

Though it was thirty degrees Fahrenheit outside, I could still feel the sweat trickling down my forehead.

“I'm not going to play alone,” at least the cold edge to his tone was gone, even if it'd just be for the moment.

“Come on, so I can see you in action and actually use what I see for my novel,” my tone came out pleading.

“Alright,” he dropped the ball, catching it once it bounced back to him.

Excited he agreed, I sauntered towards a chair, grabbing a bottle of water and sitting down while I watched him begin to play.

He moved so easily with the ball, making him look really handsome with each swaying that took place from his part.

It felt like the spotlight was on him, smiling down at the beauty he possessed, only warming my heart.

He was certainly a great player, because compared to what I'd been playing, he was great.

“You must like him a lot to have that wide smile on,” I'd forgotten about Mirabelle's presence till she invited herself to the seat beside me.

“Huh,” her words obviously caught me off guard, especially the certainty held in each word.

Like him a lot? That was going too far on what I felt for him. It was all just admiration.

Because I mean, who wouldn't admire a guy looking so hot while playing a game of basketball.

“How did you break his stone heart? A lot have tried but didn't get anywhere, what's your secret?” She made it sound like I'd found water on Mars or something.

“Uh…” did she seriously expect me to have a reply to that or what?

Instead, I turned the question to her, “were you part of the female who tried getting to him?”

She shrugged, “of course, I mean, who would be friends with a guy like Austin Hames and not want to date him,”

“Oh,” was all I could make out with how it'd spilled so freely from her.

“But you got him,” she rose to her feet, “and that's all that matters, right?” It didn't come out as a question, more as a statement, confusing me to raise a brow.

But before I could ask what she meant, she waved at the still-playing Austin, then glided away.

What just happened?