We're in the final quarter, with a minute let on the clock. 97-95, that's the score between us and Worton, which means it could be anyone's game.

The energy in the stadium is at an all time high. When I'm in game mode, each person doesn't feel like an individual member of an audience. They all just blend together as one big spectator watching my every move. It's not intimidating, in fact, I often barely notice their presence when it comes down to pivotal moments like this.

There's been a constant back and forth between both teams, and despite blunders on both ends, we've been pretty much neck and neck the whole game. Now's the time for us to give that final push and take this home. I desperately need this win.

Chris slam-dunks a shot, puffing his chest and letting out an animalistic growl. Number 14 scoops the ball back up, trekking towards the opposite side of the court. He attempts to pass to number 22 but is blocked by Darren.

The ball falls near me and I waste no time getting it in my hand. My breathing is steady and my sight is laser sharp as I dribble towards the hoop. The other team follows, but aren't quick enough to recover from my sidestep. My shot makes the net, and just like that, we're 99-95.

Number 3 recaptures the ball and when his attempted dunk is blocked twice, he throws it back out. I jump up, easily catching it. There's a few seconds left on the clock. We're half court, and I'm completely surrounded. They stare me down, waiting for my next move, waiting for a mistake.

Ken is further up and has a little wiggle room, but I don't feel fully confident passing to him. I could pass to Chris, and then he pass to Darren, but I ultimately decide to take the shot myself.

I jump, extending my arm and flicking my wrist.

The ball soar towards the hoop, while the position of my jump causes me to fall backwards. The other team scrambles trying to catch it but are too late. The buzzer rings, the ball makes it in the hoop, and I'm on the ground with a smile.

We do the required press then head to the locker room in silence.

"Great game," Darren fist bumps me, making his way to the showers.

My other teammates don't seem to be as excited as they normally are. Whether we win or lose, the locker room is still always filled with boisterous conversation. Tonight though, most of them are quiet. Ken especially looks like he's ready to tip over a table for some reason.

I've been thinking about what coach said two weeks ago and decided tonight I'll finally step up. I'll invite the guys to Manny's burgers and try to get to know them more. Now that I'm riding high on this win, the task doesn't seem too daunting.

"Carter, you're just about getting on my damn nerves out there." Ken points with sudden aggression. His freckled face is red and he's breathing heavily. Sweat drips from the tips of his spikey hair down to his forehead.

"Is that so?" I'm more amused with his anger than threatened.

The guy always seems to have an issue with someone or something, I guess tonight it's me.

"You've been hogging the freaking ball the last few games. I was wide open, but of course, you had to make the shot yourself because god forbid anyone else gets a chance to shine."

He looks like the ring leader standing at the forefront while his henchmen, my other teammates, stand behind but look just as invested.

"Is this how you all feel?" I turn to the group. Some look down, while others shake their head in agreement.

It takes me a minute to take in their revelation. I'm not intentionally hogging the ball, of course. I'm not trying to outshine anyone either. There's just this pressing feeling that's gotten a hold of me since our game started slipping. I feel most comfortable when I have the ball in my hand. I know that sounds bad, but I know when I can make a shot and when I need to pass it off. I didn't feel like I needed to pass to him, and our score can prove I made the right call.

"I don't think I'm doing anything wrong. We won the game, what more do you want?" I say.

Ken huffs, his face so red it feels like steam is about to roll out of his ears. "You know what? I'm not even gonna bother tonight. We'll deal with this in front of coach next practice." He storms to the showers.

Coach will be pissed. I'm suppose to be bonding with the guys, not building a bigger wedge between us.

After showering and getting dressed, I try to think of a way to turn things around.

I could still invite them out to dinner. Maybe apologize even though I don't think I've done wrong. Anything to make things civil again.

I settle on the idea. We go to a safe place for a few hours, talk things out, and I can make it back for my night workout.

Before I can get everyone's attention, Chris speaks up first. "Alright, let me get the mic. Despite some tension between a few people, we did still win a game. I say we celebrate at Terraine. They don't card anyone, so the youngins have nothing to worry about. Everyone gets a drink." The guys cheer, shaking on it.

Well, there goes my plan. They would all rather be out drinking than hanging with me.

"Hey, Carter, I would invite you too but I know you don't like to drink, or pretty much do anything with us." Chris turns to me with a shrug. His pity is taunting.

Irritation is starting to build in me. This is exactly why I keep my distance from them—from everyone. They'd never be pleased with me just being me. I would have to keep up with their idea of fun to be able to connect with them. No way am I letting them drag me back down the hole I spent so long climbing out of.

I brush him off, not wanting to escalate things. "I don't give a shit, I've got my own plans tonight."

"I don't know why coach keeps trying to prop him up as a leader when he doesn't even want to be apart of the fucking team." Ken slams his locker shut before walking out.

My plans end up not changing much. I'm at Manny's in my usual corner table, with my burger and a glass of coke to drink it down. The only difference is that instead of being with my teammates, I'm here with Sam and her son.

I watch Jake dip his fry into a pile of ketchup for the fourth time, bringing it to his mouth to lick off the ketchup then dipping it back, instead of eating the actual fry. The sight makes me laugh and miss my own little sister, who's only a year younger.

"Sweetie, I know you like the ketchup but you have to actually eat the food too," Sam says to him.

"mgjrjfgh," he moans, munching on his mutilated fry.

"His birthday is coming up right? I need to get him a little something." I ruffle Jake's hair, causing him to giggle.

"Can you get his deadbeat father to withdraw his custody case?" She says sarcastically.

"So it's official." I feel bad for her and I feel even worse getting her to confirm from the dejected look she gives.

"Yep. John has apparently spent the last few years getting his life together. He has a fancy new job at his dad's company and has now decided he deserves full custody of my child."

"Why not joint custody or visitations? Why go the whole yard?"

"When he first came around wanting to see Jake, of course, I blew him off. I thought he would leave after the first time, but he just kept coming back and we kept getting into more fights. After one really bad screaming match, he said he swore he smelled alcohol on my breath, and so, he concluded that I've lost my sobriety and I'm therefore unfit to raise a child, so he wants full custody," she says.

"Did you. I mean, did you drink?" I hate to ask, but I know I have to. Over the last few years we've essentially become each other's sponsors. I make sure she's on the right track, and she makes sure I am.

She watches a waiter pass by, then turns her eyes to me briefly before focusing on Jake. "Of course not. Are you kidding? I'm finally almost done with my degree, and I've got that job lined up at that elementary school next fall. I wouldn't dare risk it."

"Okay. I was just making sure," I say in my defense.

"Ya, um, let's just talk about this later. I don't want to get too heated in front of Jake." She attempts to feed Jake a chicken tender, but gives up when he continues to jerk away from her. "I think we're gonna start heading out, I told you we couldn't stay for long."

"Really? I thought you'd at least be able to finish your meal. Are you sure?" Her abruptness seems like she's trying to get away from me more than anything and it saddens me.

"We're pretty much finished. Jake is full and I've got a lot to do at home. You know, homework and all." She asks the waiter for a carryout box and when it's handed to her, she begins packing the food in a hurried manner.

"Stay safe, alright. Let me know when you get home." Is all I can say as I get up to hug her. When I release her, she carries Jake in her arm, giving me a smile that doesn't reach her eyes.

Darren suddenly walks in, always managing to find where I'm at and inviting himself to join. He makes a B-line for my table. Enveloping Sam and Jake in a hug. "How've you been?" He asks, even though though he barely knows how. They've been introduced and have greeted each other in passing, but I usually like to keep both on separate ends of my life.

"Good. We were actually just heading out, so if you'll excuse us," Sam says while Darren moves to the side, allowing them to get out. She rushes out the door before I can say anything else, leaving me even more confused.

"What's going on? I'm in the Shower and everyone's gone when I get out." Darren breaks me out of my thoughts. We take a seat and I dig back into my half eaten food.

"Cause you always take forever in there," I answer.

"Well excuse me for having a comprehensive shower routine I like to stick to." He gets the waiter's attention and places his order. " The other guys went to Terraine, huh?"

"Ya, you got the invite?" I suck my teeth.

"I did, and the one for the afterparty at Chris's as well." Darren doesn't know the context to understand I'm mocking.

"Are you going?" I ask.

"I don't know, man. All the partying and hooking up was fun when we were freshman and stuff but now it's starting to get old. I'm not trying to get drunk and have the same boring ass conversation with the same types of girls. You know they wouldn't give me the time of day if it wasn't for my name and the fact that I'm an NBA prospect."

"I feel you." I nod. It's good to have someone with a similar mindset. I've been out there, I've done the partying, and it almost destroyed everything.

"For real, I just wanna meet a chill girl who likes to stay home, order some food, and watch movies at this point." He begins to scarf down his burger the minute the waiter places it down. "Speaking of meeting girls, how are you doing in that department? We've got charity night tomorrow and you never told me who you're taking with you."

"I asked this girl I met. Her name is Summer. " I'm suddenly extremely thirsty, and reach to down most of my Coke.

"Summer?" He asks with excitement. "When's the last time you've been with a someone? It's been about two years since that Maddy girl."

"Maddy and I weren't together."

"Well she sure thought you were."

"That's why we stopped hanging out." The girl was nice and all but she started to become attached after one month and I sorta, started to care for her as well. I had to end things right then and there before it went any further.

"Okay, how did you and this Summer meet then?"

"She was visiting a friend in our building. I bumped into her and we started talking so I just asked." The lie slips off my tongue easily. With the way the girl was shrinking in embarrassment, I figured she would want to keep everything that happened mostly between us.

"Can't wait to meet her." He's got this sly look that starts to tick at me. Summer and I are going to need to be on the same page before he can really start digging.

"Did you see the highlights from the Clippers vs. Lakers game. Your brother killed it tonight, I mean, 42 points? I know your dad's off the roof." I change the subject so seamlessly that he doesn't notice I'm trying to avoid talking about my date.

Darren's smile falls as he sighs. "Oh he is. He was blowing up my phone during our game. Everyone can't wait till it's me out there with him."

"Why don't you look as happy about it?" His response surprises me.

Darren comes from a family of legends. His dad, Maurice Blackburn was one of the best players of the 90's, and his brother, Dale will someday be in the hall of fame right along with him if he continues his streak. They're all cheering Darren on to be the next big star of the family. I could only imagine having that legacy—that support— that love.

"So I was talking to some of the guys the other day and Ken said something. He said he would die without basketball. Die, Carter. And I thought he was being so dramatic but when I looked at the other guys, I could see they all felt the same. It just got me thinking and I'm like, I wouldn't die without basketball. I would be just fine, actually."

"Wasn't this always your dream?" This is the first I'm hearing of these sentiments and it's shocking me. Ken was being dramatic, but I understand where he was coming from. Basketball is my life. I discipline myself so much and keep my head straight so I have the ability to keep playing. Nothing would devastate me more than having it taken away again.

"Only because I was never allowed to dream of anything else. Ever since I took my first step, I've had a ball in my hand. I like it and all, but just like coach said, there's more to life than basketball."

I notice the new the weight on his shoulders.

"Have you become more interested in your major or something? I thought communications was just a way to breeze through school, while you focused on basketball." I'm curious about where his head is at.

"I don't know, my classes this semester are a drag. My only elective is theater 105. It's all about learning to light a stage and making sets and all that crap. We have to work on the play they're doing this semester, so that's been boring. I don't even know if I could do anything with this degree, I might switch to business, like you."

"Take the time to find something else you enjoy. You don't have to go through with basketball just because it's what your family expects of you." I try to sound supporting, though I don't know how well I'm faring.

"For sure," he says, even though he looks lost and conflicted.

I can tell he doesn't want to talk more about it, so I say nothing else and let the silence finish out our meal.

The drive back to campus is quick and after my workout, I'm back in my bed.

If only I could fall asleep.

I've spent the last hour tossing and turning, and no matter how much I shift, my body refuses to rest.

Summer comes back into my head, and for some reason, she won't leave. Our two encounters play over and over. Her drunkenness, the sadness and shame on her face, the way she smiled when talking about my sweaty pits, the way she looked in my clothes.

She absolutely refuses to go away, even in my dreams.

Why the hell is this girl in my dreams?