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“Bend your knees more.”

A voice from behind me echoed throughout the covered court. I thought I was the last person out here; after all, it was past seven in the evening already. The court was usually empty around this time. I decided to push myself a little further by staying behind to practice my freethrows and jump shots. After our epic semi-finals victory last Tuesday, our school’s women’s basketball team can define history by winning the championship this coming Saturday after waiting for 47 years in the sidelines. It had truly been a much anticipated event after this long and quite embarrassing draught. We had to make sure that we will bring honor to the school this time, and pride as well for the team. I had to make sure of that. Shannen Dela Vega, you better bring home the bacon or else I don’t know what I’ll do to you.

I turned around to see whose voice it was, though I already had a pretty close guess. His voice seemed to be everywhere. “You think I don’t know that? I’m just resting.”

“Of course you do, you’re the captain, right?” Tristan Marquez, my equal from the men’s basketball team teased, as always. I can’t pin-point what it was, but every time he was around, my buttons get pushed. My temper just flares up. Or maybe I know the exact reason why. I just didn’t want to acknowledge it.

For three consecutive years, Tristan Marquez has brought the highest glory to our school more than anyone we knew by winning championships year in and year out with his innate talent. The crowd goes wild for the guy and the Men’s Wolves. The girls go gaga over the so-called hunk of the town. Our school newspaper always reserves the headlines for them. The school will do anything and everything to fund whatever they need or at times want. While, we, the Lady Wolves were treated like the scums of the school, just scraping off the left-overs. I know, it’s a bit exaggerated but that’s just the reality of what I feel. Well that is, until last Tuesday. The day they finally noticed us.

“Yeah, I am the captain. But all hail the King of the Court!” I had to retaliate somehow.

“Why do you keep on doing that?” he asked, with a tone of exasperation. He walked closer and picked up a ball, dribbled and a whole in one from the three-point line.

“Keep doing what?” I distanced myself. Yes, I didn’t like the guy that much for all the fame and favors he received, but still, I didn’t want him to smell me. I stink after hours of practicing.

“You make it seem like I’m always the bad guy here. I didn’t do anything to you or your team. I didn’t ask the principal to give us that budget. Why are you blaming that on me?” he kept on shooting without breaking a sweat.

“Who says I blame it on you? I never said it was your fault.” That was sort of true. I try not to voice out my opinions directly at him because it would just turn into a whole debacle, and the tricky word there is “try.” But more than that, I really can’t blame the guy for playing so well.

“You didn’t have to.”

I stopped short from shooting and just looked at him from across the court. There was a certain look in his eyes, seemingly questioning, genuinely wondering what he did wrong. Why we ended up being quite the rivals.

Then, he slowly walked away, giving the court all to myself.

“Hey!” I called. “Why did you come here again?” I asked before he could close the doors on me.

“I wanted to wish you good luck this Saturday.” He said with a lopsided smile.

*****

To read the rest of the story, go to http://www.wattpad.com/50797362-the-player-and-the-pretty-dress.

My first venture into Yong Adult Fiction and Wattpad! 🙂

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