“The season is wrapping up and she’s affecting you. Before you know it, winter camp will be here and she’ll only get in the way. You aren’t running like you should. You aren’t performing and people are noticing.”
“What?” Kona said, gaze shooting to his brother. His stomach dropped when Luka shrugged, when he nodded. If people were talking, even if it was just the players, then Kona was already in deep shit.
“I heard a few of the guys talking. Coach isn’t happy with you. Nathan said he heard Coach tell Fleming that he’s thinking of playing him Saturday.”
Ryan Fleming was about twenty pounds lighter and much slower than Kona. The kid was a joke and if Coach was going to play him, then Kona must be dragging ass. “He can’t do that.”
“The hell he can’t.”
The half-assed efforts had all started when Kona and Keira amped up whatever it was they’d been doing. But even before that, when Kona told Ricky he was done with his shit, he had noticed his performance slipping. Luka would hate it, Kona hated it, but Ricky had something that could help. At least for tomorrow’s game.
“You need to listen to me, brah. I’m your older brother.”
Kona rolled his eyes. “By three minutes.”
“Still, I’m worried about you. How we gonna get our rings if you keep messing up?”
Kona smiled at his twin, couldn’t help remembering the promise they made to each other as kids. The Hale boys, with matching Super Bowl rings. They didn’t care about the money, not really. It was the rings, what they meant—that the hard work, the effort had paid off—that both of them wanted. Kona looked down, forehead dipping as he thought about how poorly he’d been playing, how his distraction had threatened all the plans he and Luka had made together. Then suddenly, Kona knew what he had to do.
“I gotta go,” he told his brother, jumping to his feet before Luka could stop him. Like always, his twin followed behind.
“Where to?”
“I have some shit to take care of.”
Luka pulled on his arm. “Brah if she tossed you…”
Kona twisted out of his brother’s grip. “I’m not going to see Keira.” Luka would follow, he always did, and Kona knew he’d give him shit for hooking back up with Ricky. Still, he wanted to know what Kona was planning. If he didn’t he wouldn’t be in his business. “I need an edge.”
“Kona…”
“Look, I let myself slack off. I had to because it was messing with me and you see what happens? I didn’t work my ass off to just fuck off my chances here. I need an edge. What I don’t need is you telling me I’m about to lose my spot and then bitching at me when I try to handle it.”
“Ricky’s way isn’t how you do it.”
“I know that,” he said, walking back toward the locker room. “I’m not an idiot. It’s just temporary.”
“It’s never temporary.” Kona waved him off, jogged away from Luka before he tried stopping him again, but as he edged toward the locker room, he heard Luka behind him, voice loud, a small plea between each word. “Kona, don’t do this, brah. Kona! Wait!”
How dare you
Trample with your words
Tatter who I am
Poison with your lips
Give it gram by gram.
The words poured from Keira, fell from her mouth like water and she lived inside that melody, brought life and breath to lyric and rhyme like a priestess working a spell. Except the hook. She was stumped by that constant refrain that would make the song complete.
Saturday night and Keira sat on her bed, strumming her Gibson, while the rest of campus cheered on the CPU Blue Devils. She had enough inspiration, enough melancholy and angst to write a hundred songs. But that elusive hook held her back.
She tried again, fitting words together by force, lining phrases with chords that did not connect, that didn’t reflect what she kept inside her. Keira didn’t know why it was such a struggle, where this block had come from, but she needed the comfort music provided. Her emotions were too raw, her head still full of Kona’s mouth, his hands, the disgusting way he played her. She promised herself she wouldn’t leave her bed until that damn hook came to her.
Three more chords, a few hums to fill the words that had not come to her and then the knock on her door stopped her mid-strum. Guitar on the foot of her bed, Keira grabbed her hoodie off the dresser before she opened the door just a crack and then, drew it back when she saw Luka Hale standing in the hallway.
“Luka?”
His smile was easy, as usual, and Keira liked how relaxed he was, how relaxed he always seemed. “Sorry to barge in like this.” Luka bit on the inside of his mouth, a nervous gesture that made him seem harmless.