Page 84 of Ruthless Court

I press too hard.

The pencil snaps.

His eyes move to the broken wood between my fingers.

“Temper.”

I set it down.

“You don’t have a speed problem.”

His expression changes.

Tiny.

Sharp.

“I never said I did.”

“You’re playing like you think you do.”

He closes his laptop.

“What do you know about how I’m playing?”

“Enough.”

“From one game?”

I look at him.

“Cal forced you away from the screen six times. You rejected it four. Twice, you picked up your dribble near the free-throw line because the second defender arrived before you expected.”

The amusement leaves his face.

I continue before common sense returns.

“Arizona copied it. Your right shoulder turns before you make the read, so the weak-side defender knows when you’re coming back across your body.”

Kane stares at me.

I can hear the professor speaking, rain hitting the glass, and someone typing two rows ahead.

“You think my shoulder is the problem?”

“No. Your trust is.”

His brows pull together.

“You don’t trust the left-side finish once the help arrives. You decide where you’re escaping before the trap closes.”

“What trap?”

“The one everyone else can see.”

His chair shifts toward me.

“What do you know about basketball, Footnote?”