Chapter 1

I hate this feeling of anticipation.

All the energy and all the emotions you feel are trapped in dead space. There is no outlet, no relief, just waiting, and I hate waiting.

I was changing alone in the locker room. I was late getting to the gym, and the team was already shooting hoops on the court.

There was something about the rank smell of the guy's locker room that always put me in game mode; must be subconscious or something.

I ripped open my sports bag and started rummaging around. My basketball uniform fell out along with my new shoes. The shoes were the new Nike brand. Nike AIR. My parents were always proud of my athletic abilities; not that they ever came to my games. The shoes themselves were FedEX'ed. Right now they were in London or something, or maybe Paris, fuck if I know.

The shoes felt good going on, a little stiff, but all new shoes are that way.

"Thanks Mom and Dad," I muttered under my breath.

I stood up and walked around in them some; they were great shoes. I slapped some pre-game Axe on.

"You commin' or what, Alan?"

I looked up. Standing in the doorway to the gym was Nick Monroe; the greatest fucking athlete to step through the doors of Ocean High.

I grinned, "Yeah man, let's do this thing."

We high fived, and stepped out into the gym. I hadn't had time to warm up, and everyone else on the team looked pretty loose, they were already starting to sweat a little.

Practically the whole school was out in the stands, and everyone was going wild. People had their faces painted, and some folks were jumping up and down.

A voice called out from the crowd. "Yeah Nick, get em Nick."

Both Nick and I turned around. The blonde and beautiful Evie Clearwater was waving at us. Her eyes were dead focused on Nick. He smiled and waved back, and then made a fist pumping motion.

I tried to swallow my jealousy.

We both jogged to our bench.

Our Coach, Mr. Young, was a man built like a mountain, with a mustache to match.

"Alright guys, we win this one and we go on to play in the championship. You guys know the drill. You've all practiced hard for this one, so get out there and kick some ass."

We all put our hands in the middle...

"Team." We all yelled together.

We broke the huddle.

"Starters take the court," Coach Young shouted.

Nick, Jake, Paul, Neil, and I all tromped out onto the court.

Nick is point guard. I'm a wing and the three-point shooter. Paul's a wing and as fast as hell. Jake is tall and lanky, easily six foot seven, and can grab most wild balls from over the other teams' heads. Neil is our brick house center. Neil does what we like to call, 'the heavy lifting'.

We all stood around center court. The team from Orange High lined up around the center with us. Jake was getting ready to take the jump, and some dirty blonde six-four guy took the position in front of him.

The ref threw the ball up in the air.

We got the jump.

The game started out fast. The other team had us nailed when it came to speed. Even Paul was having a hard time keeping up. For the first half of the game they scored twenty-six of their forty points on fast breaks.

That would have been devastating, had it not been for Nick's flair.

When a basketball hits Nick Monroe's hands, magic happens. He twists, dodges, and fakes in such fluid motions that it looks like he's dancing instead of dribbling.

He makes lay-ups look like art.

Nick scored twenty-four of our points.

When they got wise and started crowding the middle he laid it off to me.

I sank four three pointers.

When I wasn't open I passed to Neil, who'd muscle his way in.

He got four points.

Jake got a put back; and Paul got a fast break.

And a secondary player named Sam got one lucky shot at the buzzer.

Forty-six to forty, we were winning, barely.

When half time rolled around we were all sweaty messes.

We all lined up to get into the locker room, with Coach Young leading the way.

"Whooowho! Yeah Nick, you're on fire!" Evie cheered from the side-lines. Her beautiful blonde hair was a tangled mess from all the excitement.

Nick gave her a salute, and then marched into the locker room. I followed him.

Coach laid into us about how he was going to make us run till we puked if we let the other team control the fast game.

"Remember guys," he said. "We've been practicing just for this. These guys are fast, but I know we can be faster. These guys are good, but we've already proven that we're better."

We broke the huddle, and walked back out onto the court. The crowd went crazy to see us return. The other team was already sitting at their bench, they didn't look as tired as we did.

The second half started out badly.

Nick was on his game; he scored eighteen more points right out of the gate. I, however, was not. Nick passed it to me twice. I air balled one shot, and the other one bounced off the glass and into the hands of the other team.

He stopped passing to me.

The other team had players that weren't starters that were good enough to pick up some slack. Coach Young didn't take our starters out unless we asked for it, and even then we had to be about to faint.

Neil stepped up his game a little. He got six more points to Nicks eighteen. That gave us an even seventy points. The other team, however, played like a different group of people.

They scored thirty-three points in the beginning of the second half.

Seventy-three to Seventy. We were down.

The clock only had ten seconds on it. A guy on the other team fouled us, and we had the ball on their side of the court. Then Coach Young called time out.

We staggered over to the bench. "Alright guys," Young said. "Paul is going to throw it in to Nick, and Nick is going to try and get it to the other side without getting fouled. Then Nick, you're going to drop it to Alan, and Alan is going to try and pop the shot and tie, so we can go into overtime."

We all nodded.

My palms suddenly felt sweaty. My shot hadn't been on this second half.

We broke, and trotted back out into the last seconds of the game.

Nick did his part flawlessly. A player on the other team tried to close in on him and give him a slap on the wrist. Nick neatly evaded him and crossed half court.

He fluidly passed the ball right into my hands.

My feet were centered, and facing the rim. I turned and bent my knees to take the shot.

I cocked back and let loose.

The moment the ball left my hands I knew it was off. All I could do was watch dejectedly as it bounced off the rim, and straight back into the air.

The buzzer sounded before it hit the court.

We lost.

Coach Young didn't have much to say, he was never very talkative when we lost a game. Our season was over. We would have one last practice that would wind things down next week, then that would be it.

We quietly changed back into our street clothes in the locker room. It was early February and cold outside.

We could hear people milling around out in the gym.

I pulled my brown jacket on, and pulled up the collar. I slung my gym bag over my shoulder. I walked past Nick on the way out.

"Good game." I said.

Nick didn't look up, he just sat there clenching and unclenching his hands. After a minute had passed, I ignored him, and left.

I walked out into the parking lot. I didn't have a car and my backpack was already home.

I walked home in the cool night air, already trying to forget the game.

~Evandra~ I shifted my weight from one foot to another. I smoothed down my blouse with my free hand, and adjusted my book bag over my shoulder. I kept one eye on the boy's locker room door, waiting for Nick to come out.

Stephanie was talking non-stop in my ear the entire time.

"Like, Nick was AMAZING, did you see that one lay-up in the first half? He is so cool. Too bad about the game though, Alan usually shoots better than that."

Stephanie has the hots for my boyfriend. She also has the hots for Alan, my boyfriend's best friend. They are called the gorgeous duo by the girls on campus; and not without good reason.

Alan is good looking, with his long black hair and bright blue eyes. He had such a slender frame that he could probably model if he wanted to, if he ever got his acne problems under control.

Nick, however, was GORGEOUS. He has short dirty blond hair and dark chocolate eyes. Six two with broad shoulders, just thinking about him was enough to make a girl's knees go weak.

I'd been hanging out with them a lot. Ever since I started going with Nick in September. Nick is a lot of fun, easy to talk to, easy to look at, what more could you want in a boyfriend? Alan was nice, probably nicer than Nick if truth be told, but he was quiet, and not approachable; meaning that no matter how good looking he was, he stayed single.

Nick glumly emerged from the locker room. He had changed back into his white polo and jeans; they were tight, and showed off his muscles.

"Hi, Nick," Stephanie crooned in a voice that made it clear she was in violation of the 'don't flirt with my boyfriend' rule.

Nick looked up glumly, in full moping mode. "Hey Steph."

Stephanie was a blonde from a bottle girl who always wore pink and had several moles on her face.

I sided up next to Nick, trying to mark my territory. I grabbed his hand. "Come on, Nicky, let's get out of here."

His hand grabbed mine in return, a little too hard, but not unbearable. "Yeah, come on, I'll drive you home."

Nick drove me to school most days, he picked me up at my house so we could ride together.

We walked out into the cold parking lot. I edged closer to him, trying to keep warm, but also hoping he'd kiss me before he'd drop me home.

This is the part where he usually puts his arm around me and draws me closer. Today he did nothing, I guess I understood, he's still bummed about the basketball game.

Maybe he needs some comforting. I always like talking about my problems with my friends.

"Don't worry about the game Nick, you played great!" I said, trying to sound full of cheer.

He turned and glowered at me, well excuse me for caring.

We clambered into Nick's truck. He turned the ignition and got the heat going. He didn't make any move to reverse the car out of the space though.

"Um, Nick?" I begin.

Nick suddenly slammed his hands down onto the steering wheel. "Fuckin' Alan, can't do his fuckin' JOB!"

I turned and looked at him, I crossed my arms around my stomach. I hated it when Nick got like this.

I tried to soothe him. "Come one Nick, don't worry about it, there was nothing you could've done, you were the best guy out there."

Nick was not to be consoled. "All he has to do is pop threes. That's all he's even GOOD for. He can't do anything else, and what does he do? HE FUCKS IT UP!"

I didn't want to stick around; my thoughts of a nice night in the truck necking with Nick had just vanished in a puff of smoke. I just wanted to get home, get this stupid bra off and jump in a warm bath.

"Look Nick, if you're just gonna rag on Alan right now at least take me home..."

He looked over at me, for a split second he looked furious. Then fire left his eyes and he calmed down.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll get you home, sorry bout that." He said. He threw the car in reverse and sped off down the road to my house. It is really dark now and all the streetlights are on, and a couple cars are on the road looking for a good Friday night.

Ten minutes later, Nick was driving through the suburb where I live. He's calm now. He put on some rap and started bobbing his head to it.

He knows that I hate rap, but he has had a rough night, so I don't complain. Pretty soon we pulled up to my house.

"Here ya go, Evie. Sorry about my little outburst, it just ... damn ... we worked so hard for that game, it was hard not to get mad at Alan."

I just nodded, and fumbled with my seat belt. Nick quickly leaned over the armrest and pecked me on the lips. I could smell some beer on him. He must have grabbed a swig in the locker room; that was probably why he was the last out. I was a little pissed he drove me home with alcohol in his system, but I didn't bring it up.

"Good night Evie," He said.

I tried to muster a convincing smile, "Good night Nicky."

I got out of the car.

He drove off immediately, the rap in the car was now audible from the street. He must have turned it up to a deafening volume. Bastard didn't even wait till I got inside my house.

I trudged up my drive to the front door in the dark, battling my way through moths, and listening to crickets chirp.

~Alan~ It was a very cold night.

It was about midnight, and I could see my breath fog in the chilly air, which is unusual for California. My hands were warm inside my jacket, and I walked slowly. I was in no hurry to get to an empty house. Or mansion, as most would call it.

My father owns his own company. He owns his own 'successful company.' 'Grey Investments'.

He handles stocks or investments or something. Whatever he does, he does it well. I've never been told how rich we are, but I know we're up there. The down side is that my parents are never home. They are always off looking into some foreign problem with the company, or attending high-powered parties.

The long and short of it is I don't see them much.

The street lights were bright at this time of night, and the entire neighborhood was quiet.

My house is the last number in the nicest neighborhood in town. It sits on top of a pretty big hill, and has a stucco wall surrounding it.

I walked up to a side door, and punched in the electronic lock code. The door buzzed, and swung open. I walked through and began to stroll up the drive.

I let myself in.

The hallway is the largest part of the house, and mostly made up of marble. We have a big deep red rug at the front door, and directly ahead is a double staircase leading upstairs. The house is dark, but I don't bother to turn on lights.

I made my way up the stairs. I don't really feel entirely comfortable in any room other than my own when nobody else is home. It just feels, eerie.

I felt better once I got into my room. I threw my bag on my bed and grabbed a shower.

I tried my hardest to let the hot water cleanse the images of that stray three point shot from my memory, no such luck.

I got out of the shower with a towel around my waist. My cell was buzzing in my bag. I checked caller ID.

It said 'Ian' in little digital letters.

"Hey Ian," I said, sounding as depressed as I felt. "How's it going?"

"Hi Alan, geez you sound like crap. I heard about the game, sorry." Ian's voice sounds even more nasally on the phone than it does in real life, but he is sincere, Ian's a good guy.

"Thanks man, it's been a rough night," I said with considerably more pep in my voice.

"Good to hear," Ian replied. "Look, you free? Tomorrow is Saturday and I was wondering if you wanted to hook up at the mall?"

Ian is my nerdy friend from Pre-School. We publicly drifted apart once we started identifying ourselves as different things. I became the jock and he became the technical geek. But we were still great friends. I didn't mind risking social suicide for Ian ... I loved that I never had to watch what I said around him, unlike with Nick, who has taken over the role of my best friend.

"Yeah, sure Ian. I'll meet you up there at say ten in the morning? Maybe we'll catch a movie or something," I said.

"That'd be great; see ya then Alan."

"Yeah, bye Ian." I hung up the phone, and tossed it onto the side table.

I flopped down on my bed and sighed, I was probably gonna catch shit from the team on Monday.

~Evandra~

"Jerk ... jerk ... jerk ... jerk," I muttered to myself. Timing the 'jerks' to each step I took. I wrenched open the front door and slammed it loudly. I heard the television on in the living room. Dad must be watching the game. It sounded like basketball, and I had had enough basketball for one day.

"Hey, honey," I heard my dad call from the living room.

"Hey Dad, I'm home," I said.

"Let me know if you need anything." He replied.

"Okay I will..."

I ran upstairs to my room and shut the door. My room still has stuffed animals in it. Dad won't let me get rid of them. He still liked to think of me as his little girl, which truth be told was a nice feeling at times.

I started running my bath.

Feeling like Nick's extra bad behavior warranted it, I poured my remaining bubble bath into the tub. The smell of lavender filled the bathroom.

I quickly stripped of my blouse and wriggled out my jeans. I unhooked my bra and began massaging my breasts; attempting to get some feeling back into them. I shucked off my panties next, and I slowly lowered myself down into the warm water.

I placed my phone on a little table I keep next to the bath.

Texting and soaking was my guilty pleasure.

I dozed peacefully for a few minutes, occasionally turning on the hot tap to warm things up a bit. My phone suddenly lit up, and made the little bell sound to inform me I have a text.

It was from Nick, not someone whom I'm in the best of moods with. Guy could at least call me and speak if he wanted to say sorry.

I read the text.

'Hey, Evie. Srry bout my temper. Make it up to u?' I paused, he's such a boy, but a cute one, so I responded, tersely, can't let him think I'm happy with him.

'How?' 'U, me, movie?' I didn't have anything planned for tomorrow, but that didn't mean I was going make this easy for him.

'Y, you wre mean.' 'Come on baby ... plse?' I waited, just to mess with him.

'k ... pick me up @ 9.' I turned my phone off before he could respond, and slowly sunk back down into my bath...

My dad called up the stairs, "Honey, don't stay in that bath for more than ten minutes or you'll prune."

"I just got in dad," I yelled from the tub.

"Oh, okay then."

~Alan~ I couldn't sleep.

I have always been a bit of a night owl, but recently it has turned into full-blown insomnia. I don't stay up anymore just because I'm a kid and I can, now I really have trouble falling into the land of nod.