The Perfect Shot: A Friends to Lovers Romance Read online

  THE PERFECT SHOT: A BUZZER BEATER WIN

  REMI GREY

  Copyright © 2019 Remi Grey – All Rights Reserved

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Cover Created By Embrace the Pace Designs

  Join my mailing list and grab a free book!

  Updates on free books, hot deals, and giveaways.

  Zero spam.

  You can also click here to join!

  CONTENTS

  ABOUT THE BOOK

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  MORE BOOKS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ABOUT THE BOOK

  Taking the shot is always the toughest part. It can either make or break you!

  Jared Reed, an incoming freshman at Westbridge University, never had it easy growing up. Even so, only three things mattered to him in life – basketball, his dad, and his good friend Michelle.

  The summer before his senior year of high school, a murder would change everything and those things he cared about would be gone in the blink of an eye.

  As Jared heads off to a new city to play basketball at a collegiate level, he’s determined to put the past behind him. Someone from his past resurfaces and forces him to confront all of the things he tried to keep buried inside.

  Will the love that he’s always had- in his heart help him win at his changes of a future?

  CHAPTER 1

  “Get the fuck out.” The high-pitched shriek followed by glass shattering was what initially woke me up.

  The sounds of an argument followed, which was nothing new. I had already been woken up dozens of times this week.

  I groaned as I rolled over on the couch, which felt like I was lying on a slab of concrete.

  I didn't even have a pillow that I could place over my ears to drown the noise out. Instead, I laid my head back down on the balled-up hoodie I was using.

  I needed to get out of here. The sound of footsteps thudding down the wooden stairs signaled that I would soon be asked that. It was hard to say if I was dreading that or if it would be a blessing.

  “I’m sorry, man.” Kevin appeared a second later at the base of the stairs. I didn’t lift my head out of the hoodie which belonged to my pops. It was all I had left of him. I took it with me as I hopped from house to house in the year since he had been gone.

  I could feel Kevin studying me, and so I slowly rose to a sitting position. "So, this is it huh?"

  “Yeah.” A trickle of blood was running down Kevin’s arm where I could see what looked like claw marks. “She’s in a mood again.”

  She was referred to Kevin's mom, who had more or less agreed to let both of us stay in the house as long as we were doing our part, which we were. Kevin was always doing various repairs around the home that kept crumbling despite his best efforts.

  My eyes wandered to the massive puddle just a few feet from where I slept – the result of another heavy rainfall last week.

  “Look. It ain’t just you.” Kevin said as he came closer, taking a seat on the edge of the couch. “It’s both of us. John doesn’t want us here.”

  Kevin's mom's various boyfriends always had a problem with us for one reason or another. Get three hard-headed guys together in a home, and I guess it was to be expected.

  “Is it the money?” I asked.

  “Yeah, mainly.”

  I gave a deep sigh and rubbed my temples. What was I doing here anyway? For the past year or so I had left my old house behind and was hopping from friend's house to friend's house, never anywhere for more than a few weeks until I came to rest at Kevin's.

  It was musty as shit, but it was the first place since my pop's died that almost started feeling like home.

  “Kevin.” I studied him as he sat perched on the end. He was short and skinny, probably half the size of me and without nearly the same amount of fight as I had in me. He wouldn’t survive out here.

  I pulled the seat cushion back and stuck my hand through the slit that was made in the mesh netting. When I pulled my hand out, I was holding a thick envelope full of cash. It was my savings for college. I was set to leave in just a week. Leave this shit town behind. I had saved over a grand for various expenses. College was paid for thanks to a partial scholarship and financial aid. I guess that was the one perk of growing up with nothing except for skills on the basketball court.

  I took out $200 and handed it to him. He hesitated.

  "Bro just take the money." I urged. He was hardheaded, but I knew this way he would buy himself some more time in the house.

  “That’s your college fund. I don’t wanna touch that.” He protested.

  "Well, then don't." I put it down on the coffee table. "Leave it, and I'm sure your mom or John would love to get their hands on this.”

  “Fine.” He folded the envelope and tucked it into his pocket. “What about you, though? What are you gonna do?”

  "Don't you worry about me." I clapped him on the shoulder before I started to pack up my single backpack full of belongings. "I've got some shit to take care of anyways, and then I'm out of here in 7 days."

  Kevin raised his eyebrows at me, silently urging me to say more, but I couldn’t.

  I had two crucial things I needed to do before I swore off this town for good. Both of those things were required to bring me closure -- closure for a murder last summer that was my fault.

  CHAPTER 2

  “So. Are you going to finally tell me what this is about?” It was a woman’s soft voice that caused my eyelids to flutter open as the wooden beams, heavily marked with graffiti, came into view.

  Shit. How long was I out for? The whirring sound had stopped, which meant that the work must be done. I looked over at the woman who had spoken. Her caramel-colored hair cascaded down her shoulders like a waterfall with perfect waves until it came to rest just on top of my arm, brushing against me with every breath she took.

  She was now attaching a bandage; her short-manicured fingers were delicate around my collarbone where the jagged lines of a name now stood out against my otherwise smooth chest.

  I ignored her question. Did I owe her an explanation? She had done my tattoos in the past, and we had even spent the last week together.

  “How long was I out for?” I wasn’t surprised that I had fallen asleep. For whatever reason, tattoos relaxed me. It was as if the pain were a part of me, lulling me to sleep in a way that nothing else, not even a shot of Hennessey could have done before.

  “The whole time.” She smiled as she pushed her chair back from me. An involuntary shudder ran through my body as her hair tickled me one last time. I kicked away the flashback that entered my mind of our time together. Instead, I watched her form, clad in all black, as she sauntered towards the cash register.

  She knew I was watching her, and she was making sure to put on a show. Whether that was for a nice tip, or something else, I didn’t know. This was our last day together, and she knew it.

  “When you’re ready, come this way.” She called from the register which was s
et up in the middle of an otherwise empty shop.

  I took a deep breath and grimaced as I rose to a sitting position. I ignored the pain as I looked down at the clear bandage, now covering the freshly tattooed name.

  "Love you, Pops," I whispered to the tattooed reminder of the past.

  I joined Nina at the register where she was smiling as she tapped her fingers against the wooden desk, which were covered in artwork, just like the wooden beams above. The tattoo artists had experimented with designs on every surface of this shop, just like Nina and I had also experimented on these surfaces just yesterday.

  I again shook those thoughts from my head. I had business to handle today. Business, not a pretty woman, which needed my focus.

  I braced myself for Nina’s second attempt at flirting. Her advances, although subtle, always came in threes. She knew our time together was drawing to a close for good.

  When I approached the register, she made sure that her hair was covering the card reader so that I would have to brush it away if I wanted to pay.

  “Just give me $50 for the tat.” Her voice came out airy as she cocked her head and looked at my chest where the tat now glistened underneath its bandage on my dark chest. I knew I should have put my tee back on before coming over here.

  “You sure?” I wasn’t about to short a tattoo artist, especially not one who I knew was then hoping I'd be indebted to afterward. She had let me stay with her, let me wash my clothes, and feel like a normal person during my last week here.

  “I’m sure.” Her smile caused her eyes, the color of warm honey, to light up. God, she was beautiful.

  For a moment, I thought about paying with my card I had for emergencies just so I could brush her hair away from the reader one last time, just like I had brushed it off her shoulders last night.

  No, I reminded myself again. This was one of the last two things I needed to get done, the easier of the two.

  I pulled a stack of bills from my wallet, $200 or so, and slid them towards her as she looked down in shock.

  “I am not taking your money.” She said firmly, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

  "Yeah, you are," I said, mimicking her as I also crossed my arms in front of my chest. "You let me stay with you, and the time you spent on this tattoo is valuable. I ain't shortchanging you for either of those things.”

  "Fine," she finally said as she thumbed through the money. I had saved up enough, various odd jobs over the past year on my own. I needed to tie up loose ends -- starting with her.

  “If you’re sure.” Her voice hardened when she realized I was putting my shirt on and getting ready to leave. She was hoping I'd stay one last night, but there was somewhere else I needed to be.

  “I’m sure." I was careful not to disturb my fresh ink as I put my hands through the holes. "You do good work, and I appreciate you."

  "Right!" She raised her hand. To anyone else, it looked like a wave. To me, I knew it was a dismissal. "Well, you know where to find me for your next ink or next whatever.”

  "I do." I gave her a final nod before I headed out, letting the chimes of the door cling behind me. “And thank you.”

  It was hot and sticky outside. I picked up a can that a warm breeze blew into my path and launched it into the nearby trash can.

  "That was a jump shot by number 34, Jared Reeeeed," I said as loud as I could without drawing the attention of anyone nearby. I studied the pile of trash piled up next to the can, half tempted to continue playing. This town was such shit, and I was sure glad that I was given the opportunity to play at a Division 2 school this Fall. It was my talent, not my straight C’s, that got me in.

  You know, Jared. C's are proof that you did enough, but something else captured your heart, something else that mattered more. That's where your focus is. That's where you excel.

  Granny's words were always in the back of my mind. I had found what I did excel at – basketball and thanks to a scholarship; my time had come to leave for Westbridge University. The crime was minimal there, the potholes wouldn't pop your tires, and the majority of businesses on the block were thriving – not boarded up or burned down like here.

  I had one more stop I needed to make before I headed out. There was nothing here for me except, granny. That’s why I hopped in the car and followed the roads I knew led to her small home in the middle of the city.

  The home that I once belonged to until all that shit went down during the final week of summer one year ago.

  Granny didn’t know I was coming and honestly, I didn't know how she'd take it. She understood why I had to get out and couldn't come back. But, would she be forgiving? There was only one way to find out. More than anything, I needed her reassurance that I could finally leave my old neighborhood, the last place I saw my pops alive, behind for good.

  CHAPTER 3

  As I drove down the roads that led deeper into the city, I knew I was getting closer as the houses and storefronts got progressively shittier.

  Despite not being here in a year, things really didn’t change all that much.

  The air was still thick with the smell of tacos. Fuego Diego was a taco shop on the corner that had stood the test of time. While buildings all around it crumbled and fell, it was the one consistent thing in the neighborhood.

  It was my reminder that you can go home and that I was insanely hungry. I didn't realize how long my afternoon at the tattoo shop would take.

  I found street parking outside of the shop and made my way inside, stopping briefly to touch one of the bars that blocked off the shop from the rest of the world.

  They had to put up bars to protect themselves from getting robbed.

  After all these years, Diego’s son was still working behind the counter. I recognized him instantly despite his hair now being buzzed and the fact that he had gained a few pounds. I still didn't know his name, but he sure knew mine.

  "Holy shit." He let out a low whistle, and I turned around to see who he was talking to. I was the only one here though, so it was me he was referencing.

  “Jared, my man. I haven't seen you in forever. Still looking good.”

  That's how it always went – I was constantly being told what a stud I was at 6'4" and nothing but muscle. I didn't care about all that, though. Just compliment me on basketball.

  “Yeah, well. No reason to come back.” I forced a laugh.

  “Ah. Ain’t that the truth? Except for these tacos. Now, that's a good reason." He stopped to laugh at his joke while I looked down at my feet. I don't know why I was so nervous. I bent down and wiped a scuff mark off my white Jordan Retro sneakers. When I straightened up, Diego's son was sliding a ticket towards me -- loaded steak burrito and three tacos with no cilantro and extra cheese was written on it.

  “What’s this?” I studied it.

  “Your order.” He responded almost instantly.

  “You remember my order?”

  “Of course.” He was smiling now as he crossed his arms in front of him. “That and your grandma still reminds me of how much you love our burritos. That taco is her order by the way.”

  "Yeah, I know that." I suddenly felt defensive as I threw down $15 on the counter. These comments felt like jabs against me for not being home in so long, and I wasn't in the mood for those games.

  He must have picked up on my mood change.

  “No disrespect, man.” He finished ringing me up and handed me my ticket number. “Figured she was the reason you were back.”

  I took a seat at the small metal table they had set up in the next room, which served as a dining area. The same plastic red and white checkered tablecloth still covered it. It didn't look like any decor was changed since the last time I was here. My fingers instinctively found the same hole in the cloth that has always been there.

  "So, Un pajarito told me that you got into Westbridge University. Congrats." He called from behind the counter, making conversation with me.

  "Oh. Thanks." I knew who had told him, and while things got t
ense for a second before, I didn't want to leave things on a bad note in my old hood. "I'm studying Communications, but I'm just there for - "

  "Basketball." He finished for me. "We don't forget around here." He pointed at the wall above the glass display case of cigarettes. I had to careen my neck to see. Various newspaper articles, there frayed and yellowing sides were crinkling up, fighting a battle with the tape that tried to keep them down. My eyes zeroed in on one from a few years back – a feature piece that a gal for the local paper did on me being the first freshman to make varsity in over a decade.

  For whatever reason, that reporter saw something in me. That something wasn't lost in this community. I wondered if the clipping had always been there.

  "Order up." A voice called from the kitchen area. I grabbed my food myself, which was placed in a greasy brown bag in the kitchen window.

  I gave Diego’s son an appreciative nod on my way out. “Thanks again.”

  “No problem, man.” He moved to hold the door open for me. “And Buena Suerte. Make us proud.”

  Proud wasn’t really something I was after. I was just trying to make it – whatever that means. I parked outside granny's house two minutes later, and I sat still for a moment.

  It was a lot to take in. I was the reason her son was dead and that she was now entirely alone after leaving the summer before my senior year in high school. That summer changed me. I had gotten into some rough shit after the burden of my pops' death weighed heavy on my shoulders.

  “Jared, is that you?” I heard her soft voice call through the open window. I couldn't help but notice there were no screens on the windows, and one of the steps was missing that led to her front door.

  I hopped over it, struggling to stay afoot on the rickety steps as I kept the bag of tacos tucked under my arm. I could feel the grease stain forming on the one nice shirt I had.