Page 76 of His Reckless Freshman

We have got this.

We can beat Lennox.

And we fucking will.

Jumping into action, I ignore the fact that we’re the weaker team. That we’re shorter and that Lennox has a stronger basketball program than us. That everyone in this crowd can’t believe how close this game is, but they still think we’ll lose.

Dribbling the ball downcourt, I fire it off to Jimmy, who pauses by the outer circle and goes for a three-pointer… which swishes through the net perfectly.

“Yes!” Sawyer raises his fist as the scoreboard flicks over to a sweet 63–64. We’re in the lead.

“That’s right, boys.” Coach is walking along the sidelines clapping.

Holy shit. He’s on his feet.

Mac actually laughs, shaking his head when he notices. But it seems to fire him up. For once, Coach seems genuinely invested in our results, and it makes me want to deliver. And I’m obviously not the only one feeling this way, because Sawyer does a killer block, passing the ball off to Adonis, who runs it downcourt like the fucking Flash and throws it up so Jimmy can jump and slam the ball back through the hoop.

63–66.

Yes! A three-point lead with less than a minute on the clock.

“Let’s go, let’s go.” I clap, sprinting back down the court to run defense.

Mac’s already there, jumping high to slap the ball away, but the guy gets around him, just managing to slip the ball into the hoop.

Shit.

65–66.

So fucking tight.

With only seconds to go, we take back possession and head for the Lennox basket. We need to seal this thing! Sure, if we lose, it’ll only be by a point or two, but that’s not good enough. We want to win. We want to fucking win for a change!

Sawyer fires the ball my way and I snatch it, dribbling it down the court and looking for Jimmy. He can finish this thing for us. But, shit, I can’t get the ball to him safely. I have no choice but to run for the basket myself, only to be charged down by a Lennox giant set on annihilating me.

I hit the floor and slide back along the polished surface just as the whistle blows.

“Foul!” the referee shouts. “One free throw.”

“What?” The Lennox player balks, arguing with the referee while my team celebrates with laughing cheers, and I set up for my free throw.

Holy shit, talk about pressure. There’s fourteen seconds left on the clock. Even if I make this, they’ll still have time to drive for the other end and throw a three-pointer to win, or even score inside the arc.

Wiping my sweaty forehead with the back of my forearm, I set up on the line, bouncing the ball and willing myself to get this. I have to make this shot.

My heart starts thumping, so I pull in a calming breath.

And for a second, all I can think about is a girl with pretty gray eyes who believes my team is more than what everybody thinks we are.

Blowing out a breath, I raise my arms and take the shot.

Hell yeah.

Nothing but net.

“Fuck yeah, Evers! Wooo!” Cash cheers from the sidelines while the on-court players jump into action.

The game’s not finished yet, and we are all over their next attack.