Calling The Shots: Chapter Ten
Bold is English
"Hey Mariko," Allison calls to her when she and Tada near the fourth row of the bleachers. Mariko hadn't noticed them approaching with her attention on the court and talking to Shige.
"Hi!" she exclaims excitedly when she catches sight of Allison.
"How did you get here so—" Tada notices her arm wrapped around Shige's, and his question turns into a grimace that lingers a little too long. "Move it, you insatiable, gluttonous succubus."
Shige looks up, pulling his earphones out his ears but leaving the music on. "I can't remember the last time you were this jealous."
Mariko, God help Tada, is smiling deviously. "You're jealous, Tada-kun?"
He doesn't answer. He merely avoids the question and says, "I'm not talking to you," his tone quiet, calm. "Now beat it."
A basketball misses the hoop. There's a vile curse. Hyūga's head isn't in the game.
"This is so exciting, Allison. How you holding up?" Mariko asks when Tada purposely makes Allison sit in-between the two with his boyfriend on the right.
Allison feels tired, weak, shaky. Unsure. "I'm fine."
Her gaze slides to Kiyoshi on the court as Seirin starts off with ball handling as a warm up, then went on to jump shooting. She licks her lips as if remembering the taste of him. For once—twice? A third time?—nothing around her matters but Kiyoshi.
Her weakness is forgotten.
The oncoming game is forgotten.
Consequences are forgotten.
Only Kiyoshi exists.
"Hanamiya's looking pretty smug, as always."
Allison's eye twitches. Sure enough there he is, making small-talk with Kiyoshi, the center of her universe. "What's he doing on the court?"
"Are you serious right now?!" her two friends chorus, and she flinches.
"It's the ruggedly handsome knight in shining armor VS the dashing, charming, yet disgustingly manipulative dark prince!" Mariko's cheeks are a hot shade of pink, although whether from excitement or desire or a little bit of both Allison can't be sure. "You got two gorgeous men fighting over you!"
"That's just stupid, Mariko." The foreigner starts twirling her hair between her fingers. She can't help the giddy happiness that bubbles up inside of her at the thought of seeing them duke it out on the field—for her. "It's just a basketball game, not a Renaissance-era depiction of a duel."
Tada easily picks up on her happy demeanor despite her trying to hide it, and he groans. He never understood how the mind of a woman works; too damn complicated.
"Like, OMG, why is he torturing me!?" Mariko screeches, her face turning as red as a cherry. Allison and Tada turn to the court to see what captures her attention.
A well-built and currently sweating Kagami has his shirt off, tucked into the back of his shorts, and passes his basketball to Mitobe before going to retrieve a clean shirt. The attention he captures is painstakingly obvious.
Allison watches him for a moment as Mariko moans beside her. Oddly, he seems oblivious to all the girls drooling over him. "Maybe he doesn't realize he's as wanted as he is," Allison observes objectively. "Did you ever think of that?"
"How can he not know?" she questions in disbelief.
"He's a guy," Tada says with a resigned sigh. "He's probably never even gone on a date before in his life. Just because you think he's a god, it doesn't mean he puts himself on the same pedestal." Tada nudges his head in his boyfriend's direction, still listening to his music till the game starts. "Shige's like that too. He's hot, but he's clueless about it."
"And yet, you two make an amazingly cute couple," Allison grins.
"Shut up, All." He scoffs, half smiling.
Walking back on the court with a crisp clean shirt, Kagami can hear shouts of, "I love you!" and "I want your babies!" Before he can see the perpetrator shouting out mildly foul and obscene suggestions, Mariko is pulled back in her seat by her two friends. He shrugs and moves on.
Steps ring out near them. Snatches of conversation drift close. "I'll get us something to drink," Allison changes the subject and spins on her heel, then crashes into something hard and unyielding. Something that lets out a low 'oof' and for a second she stands there, stunned, crushed up against whoever it is she cannoned into.
Things filter into her brain, like the fact that he's male.
Tall. Broad. Solid.
"Sorry," she mutters, jerking back and looking up to see who it is that she bumped into.
"Are you blind? Watch where you're going," Aomine snarls at her, his face contorting into something mean and ugly.
Allison glances at the dark-skinned thug, heart jumping at the sound of his raspy voice. He's definitely striking and full of arrogance. She gulps and takes a hasty step backwards, letting him and his teammates through.
"Don't mind 'im," Imayoshi says with a smile, squinting behind his glasses. "Aomine don't know any better."
His heavy Kansai-dialect prevents Allison from understanding much, and Imayoshi notices from the way she looks at him as if he asked her for an endangered animal to eat. He pats her on the head and speaks in soft, slow sentences.
"Ya represent Kirisaki Daīchi High. Despite this, ya not the brightest light-bulb of the bunch, are ya?"
She mimicks him and speaks in an equally condescending tone, "Well, maybe you should get lost—preferably to Mars, before I punch your lights out."
His intelligent eyes survey her body, not with lust or the gaudy need of a complete jerk, but with a practiced eye, taking his time as if he's the king of the world. As if he owns his time. And boy does he take it, seeming to scan her from head to toe. He takes note of her, like a collector of fine wines, or of horses, as if she's a specimen.
He's cataloging her. Taking inventory.
Until her own, defiant gaze catches his and she realizes he isn't objectifying her. She's letting herself think that, but what this guy is really doing is appreciating her. And that's way, way more threatening than being demeaned.
"I certainly meant no offense. Please, do accept my apologies," he drawls with lazy ease. She flushes, then realizes he's baiting her.
He wants her upset. He wants her angry.
She feels ridiculed, treated like a plaything—a feeling that's far too familiar. Images flash in her head of her first school day; images of a smooth-looking Hanamiya, pestering her with sarcastic jabs, torn between smiling politely and outright laughing at her. Just thinking about it, with Imayoshi laughing right now, she can practically feel herself getting screwed all over again.
He's like Hanamiya.
How. Utterly. Unpleasant.
Sheer panic has her scrambling back to her seat. She feels disgusted with herself, so humiliated for letting him get under her skin.
Mariko leans in to whisper in Allison's ear. "Don't look now, but I think they're talking about you."
"I doubt it."
Her doubt instantly clears up the second she notices Aomine sitting right behind her, with Imayoshi and Momoi sitting beside him. Allison's eyes grow wide and Imayoshi smiles at her, lifting his hand in a half-hearted wave. She immediately turns and faces the front, grumbling something in French.
Imayoshi grins wide as he watches her shrink in her seat. He shouldn't get so much enjoyment from baiting her, but he does. And he really shouldn't have asked Hanamiya about her. But he couldn't help himself.
Hanamiya's reactions were ridiculously extreme. It was as if he flipped a two-way switch inside him—anger or jealousy. Which just made no sense. Hanamiya had been with different girls before, yet a few words concerning Allison here and his poker-face was gone.
— — — — —
"Good luck," Imayoshi had approached Hanamiya, right before the game. "Ya need it," he grinned. Hanamiya managed a small laugh and walked past him.
"Seems like ya got some folk to cheer ya on. Ain't that neat."
Hanamiya saw four of his fellow schoolmates in the crowd. "They probably came to watch us crash and burn," he shrugged, not interested.
"What about the foreign one? She's a cutie, don't-cha think?"
Wary, Hanamiya kept his expression neutral. "She's a nuisance, like the rest of them."
"Well, I like her. In fact, I think I might do somethin' about it."
Hanamiya glanced at Imayoshi, but spoke mildly to hide his irritation. "You mean interrogate her?"
"Nah, more like askin' her out tonight after the game."
"That's probably not a good idea."
And that was the wrong thing to say. Imayoshi focused an interesting gaze on him, as if he'd hoped for such a reaction. "And why not?"
Hanamiya said nothing—and even found himself grinding his teeth. He knew his behavior was suspicious, but he just couldn't help himself. Now that he's close to getting rid of Kiyoshi, he'd be damned if he'd watch his senior hit on Allison.
"Is there somethin' ya ain't tellin' me?" Imayoshi continued, elbowing him. "Come on, I'm ya sempai—who else can ya tell your secrets to?"
"Look, it's none of your business, sempai. Let it go."
"Okay, then I'll just go over for a friendly chat." Hanamiya caught his arm. "Don't," he hissed.
"Don't?" Imayoshi echoed. "Ya act as if ya have some proprietary right over her."
"That's not true."
"Oh, but it is. It's as if ya got close to her or…" Imayoshi grinned widely. "Ya really like her, don't-cha?"
Hanamiya wished Imayoshi couldn't see through his lies as easily, but that wasn't the case, so all he could do was say nothing. Imayoshi gaped at him, truly amazed. "She's ya heartthrob, ain't she?"
"Shut up," Hanamiya said between clenched teeth. And then to make it worse, he found a few members of his team lagging behind Imayoshi, their expressions one of surprise and… mild amusement; they struggled to keep in their laughter.
"Start the fucking warm-up already!" he said urgently, chasing them off.
Hanamiya's foul mood intensified as Imayoshi patted his back in mock comfort. "Now look what you've done," he snapped at him with blazing dark eyes.
"Me?" Imayoshi said, spreading his arms wide. Hanamiya ignored him and walked off. He left Imayoshi standing there, charming smile in place.
— — — — —
"Oi, down in front." Aomine kicks Allison's seat. She glares at the guy. He's lounging in his chair like a big cat, one foot against the back of her chair, his expression smug. If he'd only use his height to his advantage instead of slouching, there wouldn't be a problem.
"Are Japanese guys always this dangerous and rude?"
He inclines his head. "Just me. Thanks."
"That wasn't a compliment," Allison dead-pans. She barely registers the announcer telling the crowd that the game between Seirin High and Kirisaki Daīchi High is about to begin.
Aomine's gaze slowly peruses Allison's face. "Turn around and shut up, smartass. Or do I have to translate for you?"
There is so much anger in the question, she's momentarily taken aback, then does as she's told and overhears Sakurai addressing Tōō's ace: "But you're bad at English; you get terrible grades in every school subject."
"Shut up, nerd," Aomine bites out, his jaw tight enough to crack.
Izuki gets the ball first and passes it to Kuroko. The boy makes it past Yamazaki, lobs a pass above the basket with Kiyoshi jumping up, then catching the ball and scoring before reaching the floor.
They had the first two points.
Meanwhile, Allison is checking out Hanamiya. She sees his coiled hate beneath his mask of calm distain—sees his curled anticipation. He's awaiting a bloodbath. He's looking forward to it. It's heady, nauseating in its beauty; like a great cat tearing apart its prey, the taste of blood sending the great cat's senses taut with knowledge of the upcoming feast.
Just about the whole first quarter is Kirisaki Daīchi's cheating show. They're doing anything they want and Seirin is caught unprepared by their dirty tricks.
"I s'pose one bad apple spoils the bunch." Imayoshi's voice is entirely too casual for comfort. Tada's cold eyes take in Imayoshi for a moment. "We're not like them, so can you kindly stop the bullshit?"
"It's fine," Allison says, feeling Imayoshi's eyes burning a hole into the back of her skull. "He loves to hear himself talk, so just ignore him."
This is the first time she's ever seen Hanamiya play; she never heard of their dirty reputation on the court. She can't see anything, though—so technically, whatever he does wouldn't be called cheating. Right?
Whoa, wait—is she defending him?
Kiyoshi shouts Hanamiya's name loudly. A hush settles over the two teams, so his voice runs clearly through the arena: "I will defeat you!"
Across the arena, a crowd of Kirisaki Daīchi students are rendered speechless. Then, as the two part, a few booed at Kiyoshi. Soon the arena is filled with the sound of jeers and catcalls.
"What a dumbass!" they shout.
"Go home!"
"Destroy him!"
Items begin flying toward the court. As they crash down, Kiyoshi and his teammates identify the projectiles as half-empty cans and bottles.
Allison, Mariko and Tada gaze at them, astonished. Kiyoshi looks like hell, and she knows it doesn't fix her mistakes, but she feels ashamed, longing for Hanamiya's affection when Kiyoshi clearly deserves better.
Fuck it. She'd never felt this ashamed. Never felt this guilty over having a puppy love relationship with Hanamiya until right now in this moment.
The foul play continues with Kiyoshi on the inside. It looks like Seirin doesn't have much choice. Their opponents are beating on Kiyoshi; Hara rams his elbow, aiming for Kiyoshi's ribs, kicking his bad knee. Another begins to assault the front of his body with occasional punches and jabs.
He can feel each blow course through his very bones, and the pain is mind-numbing… one of those pains that seem to freeze your body in place, no matter how hard you want to move. They pull on his jersey to keep him from getting the rebound, but despite this, he still manages to succeed for the sake of the team.
Allison is unsure of what is happening. Seeing Kiyoshi fearlessly block and attack in the middle of the chaos has her completely on-edge.
"Not bad," Aomine's voice is light, amused, but there's an edge to it that makes Allison feel uncomfortable.
"He won't last long, though. Not with his busted knee," Shige says.
"Wait…" Unease travels the length of her spine. "Busted knee?"
Shige gives her a look of surprise. "You're dating Seirin's center, and he never told you about the severe knee injury he sustained during his freshman year? Can't say I blame him—you make it really hard for people to trust you," he mutters just loud enough for Allison to hear.
"Teppei trusts me," she begins. "He really does."
Her voice cracks and splinters. She tries to speak, but her broken voice disappears into the overwhelming sadness of her hollow words echoing in her head.
"I've heard about it," Imayoshi chimes in from the back, just to spite her. "This is his final year to play ball, ain't it?"
"Yeah," Shige lets out a small laugh. "Hanamiya has it all neatly wrapped up. Kiyoshi must have done something to really piss him off. He's pretty good about hiding it. I only found out a few months ago that he was behind it."
"You don't know that for sure," Allison finds her voice. "He has a bad reputation, believe me, I know. But… this is too much, even for Hanamiya."
Really? Where is all this certainty coming from? She's not sure. But it feels like the right thing to say. And she wants so badly for it to be true. No matter what he did to Kiyoshi, she's still attached. Shige thinks she's being ridiculous, but holds his tongue.
As the game progresses, it becomes harder for Kiyoshi to concentrate. He's not reacting as quickly for the rebounds as he usually does. During a timeout, coach Riko asks if he's okay. He explains that his knee is acting up, and it's bothering him a bit. She suggests taking him out of the game, but he refuses. He adamantly assures her that he's fine and can keep playing.
He knows he has no right to be on the court. But he's afraid to find out what will happen if he stops.
Izuki notices Hyūga's clear shot from behind the three point line and pops it to him where he squares up to the basket, jumps, and lets the ball roll off of his fingers. Despite his efforts to keep the ball steady, he misses.
Kiyoshi is knocked back, and his breath rushes from his lungs when Furuhashi's upper arm made contact with his forehead. Kiyoshi's back collides with the waxed surface. The cheers fade, and the images on the court become blurry. He blinks his eyes as the colors run together until there's only black.
Allison is shocked, terrified. But she quickly tamps down the screaming voice inside her head and collects her wits, watching Kiyoshi getting back up on his feet.
Breathing hard, he looks up at Allison. He's flustered and bruised all over, and a cut on his forehead is bleeding freely. He does a fist pump, showing that he's alright, then resumes the game like nothing happened.
She feels limp and wrung out and awful. They're going to destroy him out there, and this is all Hanamiya's fault—the guy she defended just a moment ago. Hanamiya's smug smile of satisfaction confirms this is no accident.
"Where are you going?" Mariko questions Allison when she prepares to leave during half-time.
"Locker room," she murmurs.
"Tell Kiyoshi-kun he can do it! Ganbare!" she cheers.
No one questions Allison when she barges through Kirisaki Daichi's locker room. "Oh, hey," Hara is smiling as she passes him by, almost grinning at her. The look says it all. He's amused at her presence.
She flips him off. It makes him laugh, and the sound seems queer here in this poor excuse of a locker room.
Yamazaki looks from Allison to the overly friendly Hara, and back to Allison again. "What do you want?"
She looks around, ignoring all eyes on her. "Where's Hanamiya?"
"He's out taking a piss."
Allison bites her lip and leaves shortly after.
"She totally digs me."
Yamazaki gives Hara a funny look, saying: "Yeah, you're a real keeper."
The last person Hanamiya expects to find barging in the boy's restroom is Allison Taylor. She looks angrier than a wet cat. Which makes her even sexier somehow.
"I'm glad you decided to wait," he says when he went to wash his hands. "I figured you'd pitch a bitch fit." Surprisingly, the words hold no real sting. His brief, lurid fantasy starring the Canadian girl has taken the edge off his attitude.
Allison, on the other hand, is beyond pissed. She stands up straight, and crosses her arms. "Don't change the subject."
"I didn't know there was a subject."
"Then I'll make it simple for you. Why are you injuring Teppei and his teammates on purpose?"
Ah, there it is. At least they have that out in the open.
"You got me," he says, ever smiling.
She lets out a frustrated breath. "Why are you doing this?"
"Because I feel like it."
"What kind of answer is that? Do you kick puppies cause you feel like it?"
"I don't kick puppies, just people."
"What if I ask you to stop hurting Teppei and the rest?"
A part of him—especially the part below his belt—would have liked nothing better than to do whatever she wanted, particularly when she's standing right there and he could have her in his arms inside of two seconds. He could be kissing her, tasting her delectable lips, cupping the round curve of her ass, dragging her into one of the bathroom stalls this very second if he just said yes.
But another part of him is still angry. Allison doesn't even know what she's doing to him, let alone apologized for it, and he'd be damned if he's letting her get away without doing both.
"Sorry. That's not gonna happen."
For several seconds, she doesn't say anything, and he swears he catches a glimmer of tears in her eyes. He really doesn't get it. He let her keep her friends, and she even has Kiyoshi wrapped around her finger. What more does she want?
"Fine," Allison says at last. Her hands fisted at her sides, she turns to leave. She takes two steps, then stops and whirls to face him, her expression fierce with anger and… was it hurt? "Just tell me, before I go. Was it worth it?"
Now he's really at a loss. "Was what worth what?"
"Fooling around with me just so you could have a good laugh in the end?"
He arches his brow. "What?"
"Oh, come on. It must have been very amusing, pretending you were interested, pretending to find me attractive…" Her voice hitches, and she trails off. "Just forget it." She starts away from him again.
That's the last accusation Hanamiya expected. He grabs her wrist to prevent her from getting away. She glares over her shoulder at him and yanks, but he makes up the space between them in three easy strides.
Allison opens her mouth to say something, no doubt to let her go, but he doesn't give her the chance. Instead, he slants his lips across hers, plundering her mouth with all the pent-up hunger and frustration of the last couple days. She accuses him of faking it, which is logical, considering the way he'd been treating her. He doesn't blame her.
As his mouth captures hers, she stiffens with surprise or indignation, maybe both. It doesn't matter. He deepens his onslaught, not sure if he's trying to punish her or subdue her and not really caring which it is.
She tastes even better than he remembers, which hardly seems possible, since his memory assures him she tastes like fresh, ripe peaches and sunshine, but the reality is better—sweeter, hotter, richer. When she melts against him with a groan of surrender and meets the stroke of his tongue with her own, he wants so badly to flip Kiyoshi off and shout with triumph.
You see? You see what you do to me?
She can hate him, she can hate his interference with her life, she can hide behind Kiyoshi with his Disney-like mindset—cause everyone knows Disney is all about happy endings—but she can't deny that this is real. And very mutual.
Allison shoves him off of her, putting as much distance as she can between them, and wanting to scream at him. She knows that if she'll let him touch her again she'll give in and she can't let that happen.
Allison tries to regain her composure. Hell, just trying to stop panting like a dog in heat would be helpful. A thick dense knot settles in the pit of her stomach. She just let him kiss her and she loved it. She has no control over it, not a damn ounce. Now he's going to degrade and belittle her again.
Why? Why did he have to kiss me like that, yet be the biggest asshole I'd ever met?
For a moment, he looks as dazed as she feels, then his arrogant lip quirks up in a cocky smile. Look at that… She wants so badly to punch his face in.
A low whistle breaks the tension.
They're caught.
By the worst person possible.
"Damn," Hanamiya mutters when he turns and sees Aomine bearing down on them, utterly bored. Allison murmurs something a little more colorful.
"For someone who doesn't know jack-shit about basketball, you're awfully friendly with the players," Aomine drawls out, not even interested anymore.
"I am not," Allison says, her voice low and fierce.
Thinking fast isn't easy under the circumstances, but Hanamiya does the best he can to salvage the situation. He laughs hollowly. "Nah. You've got it all wrong. She wanted to give me a piece of her mind. I decided to show her a better way to use her mouth."
"What!" Hanamiya ignores Allison's outraged gasp and focuses on Aomine, who says: "I got a better way to shut her up, with a fancy dog muzzle."
"Asshole." Allison gives Hanamiya a violent shove from behind. "I can't believe you. Either of you."
Don't believe me. It's not true.
Hanamiya can't say what he really thinks, so instead, he lets her give him an angry look before storming off. He watches Allison go, her spine ramrod straight, her head held high.
Damn. He'd been so close to getting her to break down. Now, thanks to this Neanderthal, he's back to square one.
The door slams so violently, the floor beneath his feet seems to shake.
Make that square negative one.