Page 555 of Bad Prince
Font Size:
Lila grabs the back of my jersey and shouts, “One more.”
One more.
The phrase has never felt crueler.
I rotate back.
The ball is in my hands.
For one second, the whole world stills.
Not dramatically.
Just enough for me to feel everything at once.
The gym.
The pressure.
The months.
My body.
The bracelet in my bag.
The private jet.
The dance.
The sea.
Tristan’s voice saying,Don’t start trying to carry everybody.
I toss.
Jump.
Serve.
It’s good.
Fast.
Sharp.
They pass it barely. Scramble. Send back a free ball.
We should end it there.
We should.
But the set drifts too tight.
My approach is a half-step rushed.
Their middle closes sooner than I expect.
I swing anyway.
