Ugly girl

I find myself tracking Slade’s movements as he makes his way around his court. He grabs a ball and dribbles it down the court as a quick warm-up before ru

His name is called from the sidelines and I watch as he walks over to some girl and bends down. He presses a kiss to her lips and she whispers something in his ear that makes a devilish grin appear and has me clenching my thighs. Fuck, the guy really is dangerously sexy.

“That’s Nessa,” Maze explains, clearly watching the same show.

I nod as I look her over. She’s nothing special but from the look of her, she seems like the kind to act first, think later. A bit like me, really. Though I know I shouldn’t judge a book by its cover but sometimes human nature shines brighter and a girl just can’t help it.

I decide pretty damn quickly that I don’t like her and that’s all the thought I put into it before she’s put to the back of my mind.

Slade finishes with Nessa and jogs over to the guy who must be his coach. The guy starts talking and soon enough the whole team is crowded around. I keep my eyes on Blake, feeling a proud big sister moment coming on and as if sensing my eyes on him, the little turd looks up and beams wide.

I instantly flip him off and he laughs, knowing that’s the best kind of support he could possibly get from me. Slade looks at Blake and whacks the back of his head to force his attention back on their coach but curiosity gets the best of him and he glances up at me, locking his heated gaze on mine.

His brows furrow, clearly wondering what the hell I’m doing here. If only he knew but considering he’s wearing the jersey I had a little fun with earlier, he’s got absolutely no idea.

His gaze has a need bubbling deep inside my stomach but I try my best to ignore it, after all, I’m here to witness his downfall, not think about the devilish things he could do to my body.

The longer he glares, the harder it becomes to control myself and I eventually let my lips pull up into a satisfied smirk that only results in sharpening his glare. I watch with amusement as suspicion enters his gaze quickly followed by doubt and the more I smile, the worse it gets. He knows I’m up to something yet he’s got absolutely no idea what and that knowledge is killing him.

Fuck, this is going to be good.

We wait another twenty minutes and then finally, both teams step into position and get this shit started. The buzzer sounds and my grin begins to hurt my cheeks as I watch Slade dominating up and down the court. I have to admit, I’m kind of impressed. He keeps glancing up here, wondering what the fuck I’m up to and despite his distraction, he’s still clearly the best on the court. He’s like an avenging angel, gliding effortlessly past his opponents.

I’ve been to millions of Blake’s games growing up and have witnessed some incredible things, but even I have to admit that this is probably one of the most fast-paced, exciting games I’ve ever been to. It’s a shame that I’ll have to cut early.

Maze grabs hold of my hand and squeezes tight as we watch the droplets of sweat begin to form on Slade’s forehead. It won’t be long now.

Roman cuts in front of Slade and takes the ball from between Slade’s legs making the rest of the Rangers cheer with delight. We’re only ten minutes into the game yet the whole time these two have been at each other’s throat. It’s clear there’s bad blood between them and something tells me it’s more than just a team rivalry thing.

Slade races after him and goes for the ball but not before Roman shoots and watches as it sails effortlessly through the hoop. It’s been like this the whole game. It’s as though no one else exists on the court, only the two of them. It’s ridiculous really and from the way Blake is holding his shoulders in frustration, it’s clear that I’m not the only one who’s noticed it.

Slade gets the ball once again and passes it to Damian as he comes shooting through. Their teamwork is incredible and it’s clear that they’ve been doing this together for a while. They’re some sort of dream team but from the look of it, Damian doesn’t take it half as seriously as Slade does.

The game goes on and I start to doubt myself until we get halfway through the second quarter when droplets of sweat begin to coat all of the boys’ skin, though unlike Slade, the others haven’t had their uniform tampered with.

As sweat begins to run down his arms and legs, blue lines of ink start staining his skin. The first appears down the back of his leg and is quickly joined by another. I point it out to Maze. “Check it out. It’s working.”

She narrows her eyes at Slade as if that could help her see. “Holy shit. Is that blue lines all over his body? How the fuck did you do that?”

I grin wide, not tearing my eyes off him as he continues playing ball, completely oblivious to the way he’s quickly turning blue.

“I pressed calligraphy powder into his jersey and shorts so as he sweats and the powder mixes, it turns to ink.”

“Fuck me,” she booms with laughter. “Do you have a death wish?”

“More like a point to prove.”

The grin doesn’t move from Maze’s face as she watches eagerly and over the next few minutes, the show only gets better.

Slade dunks the ball into the hoop like a pro and I’m not surprised when Damian races up to him and throws his arms around his friend. He claps his back with a proud smile on his face which only results in mine and Maze’s grins widening impossibly further, especially as Damian pulls away with the backs of his arms covered in blue ink.

Slade walks back toward the center of the court and raises his jersey to wipe the sweat from his face. His torso is completely blue and after dropping his jersey back into place, so is his face.

Murmured gasps begin sounding around the stands as Maze and I howl with laughter. The guys on the Rangers begin snickering between themselves as people start pointing Slade out.

He holds his hand out for the ball and in doing so, finally notices the blue tinge on his hand. He follows the ink up his arm and soon enough is looking over his whole body in confusion. Even from way back here, I still hear the murmured “what the fuck?” rumbling from deep within him.

His head snaps up with his eyes zoning in on me. I’ve never seen rage like it and damn it, it’s fucking hot. “Oh fuck, girl. You’re dead,” Maze laughs as Slade takes a step toward the bleachers.

“CRUZ,” his coach bellows.

Slade doesn’t dare take his eyes from me and knowing now’s not the time to hang around, I stand proudly and let him know what a smug Skylah looks like because it’s something he’s going to have to get used to.

“NOW, SLADE.”

I curtsey and bow my head as though I stepped right out of the pages of a Jane Austin novel and watch with delight as Damian grabs hold of Slade and pulls him away.

He glares back over his shoulder and with one last smile, I scram, knowing that Slade Cruz has finally learned a lesson. Nobody fucks with Skylah Daniels and gets away with it.

Checkmate, motherfucker.

As I walk out the door, I feel someone’s heated gaze on my back and quickly realizing that it doesn’t belong to Slade, I take one last risk for the day. I look back over my shoulder to find the heated gaze belonging to Roman Westbrock and it’s clear from the laughter in his eyes that he has just witnessed all that bullshit with Slade, and damn it, he looks pretty fucking impressed.