Chapter Text
TK knows this season is going to be different from the minute he steps onto the court the first day of practice; he can feel the buzz in the air of the Moody Center as the team warms up.
Most obviously, they’re all hungry for a title after being knocked out of the Elite Eight last season, not that TK was around to witness it. But he was there for the buzzer beater that lost them the championship game the year prior, and that’s reason enough for him to crave redemption.
The other main factors responsible for filling the room with energy are the new additions to their roster. Primarily, Carlos Reyes.
TK hasn’t been able to go anywhere this semester without hearing about how Carlos transferred schools after a family emergency to be closer to home, or even more so, seeing him around campus—the library, TK’s favorite coffee shop, his 8 am class every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Carlos is inescapable.
And as much as it kills TK to say, the hope he has brought for this season isn’t without merit. Carlos is good, more than good, and he makes their chances of bringing home a title that much stronger. But he and TK have a history that makes it hard to feel the same excitement that the rest of the players are feeling.
Most of their interactions until now were on the court, except for that one time, at that one party, TK tries not to think about too much. And now, as if returning to the team after his season away isn’t bad enough, TK has to figure out how to be a teammate to a former rival.
The last time TK talked to him was during their sophomore year in the NCAA championship game. Carlos went home victorious, and TK did not.
“Strand,” Pearce calls out, jogging over to him as TK stretches. He picks up the foam roller that TK was just using and sits down, rolling out his hamstrings.
TK wouldn’t say he likes Pearce, but they play well together, anticipating each other’s moves and getting each other open looks. TK thinks that has less to do with their chemistry as players and more to do with Pearce’s predictably. It’s not obvious, but TK knows him well enough to know he never makes a single risky play.
He’s got the team low on turnovers, an impressive stat if it was earned any other way than by keeping the ball unless he’s absolutely certain he can complete the pass.
Pearce’s turnovers may be low, but his assists don’t even come close to TK’s.
“Hey,” TK nods at him before scanning the rest of the gym.
There’s a group of guys in the corner, a mix of players either trying too hard to show off or too scared to do so much as dribble without screwing up. Freshmen, TK guesses easily.
At the hoop TK usually warms up on, there’s the group of players that he once worked with the most. They weren’t close friends off the court, but they–along with Pearce–all started together. There’s a certain dynamic and sense of familiarity that comes with that. TK has no plans on warming up over there today, and not just because one of those players is the guy who was also apparently seeing the guy TK was dating.
He and Alex were never serious, but he didn’t think they were that casual. TK’s heard through the grapevine that Alex and Mitchell aren’t even together anymore and TK doesn’t know if that makes playing with him more or less awkward.
Once TK’s gaze moves on, it doesn’t take him long to spot Carlos no matter how much he pretends he isn’t looking. He dribbles the ball effortlessly in his own quiet corner, bouncing it between his legs before pulling back and sinking a three.
TK looks away only when Pearce starts to talk to him again.
“I just wanted to tell you not to worry about minutes. I know guys that got picked after coming off the bench last year. It wasn’t first round, but,” he shrugs and almost as an afterthought, Pearce adds, “If you’re even still thinking about the draft.”
“What are you talking about?” TK asks, feeling like he’s trying to catch up to a conversation that Pearce started without him.
“The starters.”
TK frowns. “It’s the first day of practice. There is no starting lineup yet,” he defends, ignoring the unease that has settled in his gut.
He didn’t think he’d walk back in here and pick up where he left off, but Pearce seems fairly confident that getting back to starting point guard isn’t even an option for TK. It feels like he just found out some big joke that everyone else already knew.
“Yeah, not officially,” Pearce shrugs. “But they’re not having Reyes come in off the bench, and no one else has been out of practice for the past year.”
TK clenches his jaw as he stretches his quads. He hasn’t been out of practice for an entire year. He may not have been playing officially, but he was still putting in the work as soon as he was able to.
“He plays your position,” TK points out.
Pearce gives him an odd look. “I played point guard last season after you were out.”
TK opens his mouth to respond, and then snaps it shut when no words come to mind. Judd saves him the trouble, blowing the whistle and causing Pearce to jog to center court. TK takes his time to follow, coming in at the back of the huddle.
“TK,” Tommy says from beside him with a smile. “Good to have you back.”
He looks at her briefly as Judd starts his usual speech about this being a new season with a blank slate. She looks genuinely happy to see him, and not just because she’s getting one of her better players back. A bit of his unease clears away.
Being one of the only female assistant coaches in the league, Tommy doesn’t take shit from anyone, but she owns it much less recklessly than TK ever has. He has always respected the hell out of her and that morphed into a mentorship that’s probably the sole reason he’s back on this court now. A year ago, TK didn’t want to admit he had a problem, but she saw right through his bullshit and got him back on track again.
“Good to be back,” he says, determined not to let Pearce’s words shake him after spending so long craving to be on the court again. On these wooden floors is where he belongs, he’ll make the rest of them believe it again too.
Before practice actually gets underway, there’s the usual round of introductions from the new players. The new freshmen make up a majority of the group—a couple of kids from Texas and a few more from out of state.
TK’s already plenty familiar with the sophomore transfer from A&M who introduces himself next, Mateo Chavez. TK’s old roommate, Tim, didn’t know if he’d be back to play this year when the time came to sign a lease, and since players typically live together, TK’s room was offered to someone else with a promise that it wasn’t personal.
Now he’s sharing an apartment with Mateo. He’s a cool kid and as far as roommates go, it could be worse, but it definitely doesn’t help him feel any less like an outsider on his own team. Marjan’s with them too after her housing situation fell through at the last minute and TK has to admit that living with one of the team’s student athletic trainers right down the hall is probably a good thing given his track record.
If he was going to be stuck living with one of the transfers, he’s glad it’s Mateo. Living with Carlos would’ve been the cruelest form of torture.
The man in question speaks up just then, the last one of the group and the most unnecessary of all the introductions. Everyone here knows who he is, yet Carlos looks at the team with a kind smile.
“I’m Carlos Reyes, transferring from Arizona,” he says with a smooth voice. “I know most of you are used to seeing me in a different colored jersey, but I’m excited to be here and to finish my last season back home in Austin.”
His eyes scan the huddle as he talks, yet they pause when they latch onto TK’s, holding his gaze until Judd speaks up. TK doesn’t know if the way Carlos’ smile softens is in his head.
“Now, I know we used to talk about how to shut Carlos down in previous seasons,” Judd says, earning a laugh from the group and even an amused smile from Carlos himself, “but now instead of all your complainin’ about his damn good three-point percentage, y’all can celebrate it.”
TK hates that he can’t take his eyes off of him. Carlos’ small smile is humble as Judd talks about how he’s one of them now from this day forward. His white practice jersey clings to his skin and the small amount of sweat he worked up during the warm up makes his curls spill onto his forehead. TK doesn’t know why it’s affecting him so much when it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before. He has seen Carlos out on the court before, defended him without so much as losing his focus, but right now, standing on the other side of the huddle, he’s an absolute siren.
He’s terrible for TK because as much as he remembers what it was like to have that body pressed up against his, both on the court and off, he’s still the guy that TK has been compared to for years, getting just that much more glory. The guy who always manages to score a few points more than TK in his games. The guy who set a career high the same night TK went ten for ten on free throws. The guy who always gets more attention for how much potential his game has beyond college even though TK works just as hard, is just as good.
He’s the same guy who sunk the game winning three the last time they were on a court together, even though TK is certain his toe was on the line. It shouldn’t have been a three. That basket should’ve tied it and they should’ve gone into OT.
And now that guy is here, playing in Austin.
Even if they do win the championship this year, all anyone is going to talk about is how it’s because of Reyes that the Longhorns finally accomplished what they never could before.
“Alright,” Judd claps his hands together and the smug smile that slides onto his face tells TK what’s next before the words are even out. “Most of you already know what’s coming, but for those of you who are new… get ready to hate me this first week.”
He grabs the metal rack of basketballs and slides it to the center of the huddle. “If you’re holding a ball, put it back and then line up down on the baseline.”
The collective groan from the group is audible and Judd shakes his head with a smile. “Don’t give me that. I know most of y’all haven’t been workin’ on your game nearly as much as you should’ve been this summer.
“Last year there were too many games where we were killed getting back on defense,” Tommy says.
“She’s right,” Judd adds. “If you wanna win this year, we start fixing that on day one. And if anyone’s fingertips aren’t touching the line down on the other end, we’re startin’ the count over.”
“Damn,” Mateo mutters under his breath as they disperse to the baseline. “Is he always this intense?”
“Nah,” TK says. “He just doesn’t want you to know he’s actually a big softie.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yeah,” he nods. “Just wait until his wife shows up to practice with his daughter one day.”
Mateo makes a surprised hum and then focuses on himself, which is probably for the best, seeing as they’re about to run so much their legs will feel like lead by the time they get home. TK glances down the line as the last of the players make their way over, finding Carlos standing right next to him.
“Good to see you again, TK,” he says, smiling at him in a way that seems so genuine that TK has to look away. It seems those brown eyes can still affect him like no other.
“You too, Reyes,” he says, sparing half a glance before Judd blows the whistle and they take off.
Turns out lead was a generous comparison.
TK’s legs feel so heavy as he makes his way out of the locker room shower that he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to walk tomorrow, let alone practice. Tugging a pair of sweats on and pulling a hoodie over his head feels like a chore. He’s not surprised, it’s always like this the first week, but after coming back from a season off it’s hitting him twice as hard.
His own time spent at the gym, the rec court, or on the running path at the Greenbelt only did so much for him. Physically, he’s got his work cut out for him, that’s more obvious than ever, but today’s practice did quiet one fear that he didn’t realize was bothering him so much until he was able to dismiss it—he still knows this game like the back of his hand.
Working through the plays felt like riding a bike. A few of them might’ve changed since TK last ran through them, but pretty soon it was muscle memory and he was cutting and passing like he never left. His form is a little rusty and his free throw percentage is definitely not what it once was, but that’ll come back.
Pearce’s comment may have stuck with him, but if anything it fueled TK. He pushed his body as hard as he could–hustling through each drill and feeling the ball under his fingertips like it was meant to be there. It flowed effortlessly, crossing over from one hand to the other before bouncing behind his back as he easily slipped past his defender to take it down the lane.
During the scrimmage at the end of practice, Pearce led his theoretical starting five–Reyes included–as point guard, but TK took the same position on the opposing team. No one even came close to stealing the ball from him; the carefully neutral expression Pearce gave him along with the quiet conversation between Tommy and Judd on the sideline let TK know that his handling skills are still unmatched.
He started to feel like his old self out there. He’s always been able to tune out the noise when he stepped foot onto a court and for the first time in a year, worries about knee injuries and pain killers and rehab and not being good enough any more are quieted. It was just him, the nine others out there, and his burning desire to play.
The team still isn’t perfect. He’s not exactly sure where he fits in these days when they're not actively engaging in the game. He somehow managed to rarely cross paths with Mitchell, had an awkward conversation with Tim during a water break, and continuously caught Carlos’ gaze like a magnetic pull.
Mostly TK just kept to himself.
The freshmen seem tolerable except for the one player who was acting like he was the shit. But then TK stuffed him in a layup drill and it felt good to remind him that just because he was the hero of his hometown, that reputation doesn’t follow him here. That is, it felt good until he caught Carlos’ unreadable expression from across the court. Then TK just felt like he was being chastised for his actions.
Just before TK came to the locker room, he caught Carlos pulling the same kid aside to have a conversation with him. He didn’t catch any of the words, but TK can only imagine what it entailed. Something along the lines of not taking TK’s poor attitude personally, if he has to guess. As if TK actually feels threatened by the kid.
He may have been constantly feeling like he had to prove himself all afternoon, but an eighteen year old fresh out of high school isn’t even on TK’s radar, no matter how tall he is or how easily he can dunk. TK knows who his threat is and he’s walking back to his locker from the shower with a clean pair of shorts on and his towel draped over his neck looking like he could go back out there and run a few more down and backs.
The man pauses when Matt, the 6’4” center and one of last year’s starters, says something to him. They chat for a moment and then Carlos laughs before continuing to his locker, and TK hates how easily he’s already accepted here, how he’s been here one day and the rest of the guys act like he’s their golden ticket to dominating the playoffs. He doesn’t think the team should be unaccepting, but it stings to watch Carlos swoop in and make himself at home while TK’s trying to prove he belongs on this team for the second time in his career.
His locker is a few down from TK’s, but most of the guys have already cleared out so it’s only the two of them in their row. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Carlos pick up the towel from around his neck and scrub it over his hair before dropping it to the bench. TK grabs his street shoes from the bottom of his locker and drops them on the floor, averting his gaze as Carlos starts to dig through his bag for a shirt.
TK keeps most of his things in his locker, but shoves his socks and practice jersey in his duffle to take home to wash, and then throws it over his shoulder to get out of here. Before he can go, Carlos calls out to him and TK tries not to look annoyed even though the last thing he wants to do right now is have whatever this conversation is while his whole body hurts.
“Hey,” Carlos says, tugging his shirt over his head and taking a few steps after him. He glances around the room to make sure no one else is nearby and then more quietly says, “Look, I just wanted to say that I know it’s a bit strange to be teammates when we’ve been playing against each other since we were both eighteen, but you’re a good player and I’m looking forward to working with you.”
It’s also a bit strange to be standing here exchanging pleasantries about the game when I sucked your dick in the upstairs bedroom of some house party and then we never spoke of it again, TK thinks, but he doesn’t dare say it. TK didn’t think that night was going to lead anywhere, but Carlos seems hellbent on pretending like it never happened. They played each other on three separate occasions during their sophomore season while pretending it didn’t happen. It’s fine.
“Sure,” TK says instead, forcing a small smile. “You too,” he adds because Carlos is a good player, TK’s personal feelings about him aside. He can give credit where credit is due.
Carlos stares at him for another moment, looking like he wants to say more, but then the door to the locker room opens and he nods instead, returning to his locker. It only takes TK’s brain a second to catch up before he pulls his gaze away too, turning around and leaving.
***
TK stands at the top of the key, ball tucked protectively against his hip before he pivots and drops it low on the other side as his defender makes a grab at it.
He takes a quick glance at the scoreboard, finding only ten seconds left on the shot clock. Pearce is out to his right, and Tim beyond him in the corner, but TK sees the way Isaiah is creeping out, ready to steal a pass to either of them. Carlos has two defenders on him to his left, but if TK can draw them away, he can kick a pass back out and Carlos can swing it around to Mateo for a baseline three.
He starts his dribble, knowing Mitchell is expecting him to go left, and he jabs once in that direction before crossing between his legs and sweeping past him to the right. He’s just as strong with either hand.
As expected, the defense swarms him in the lane, but TK’s already thinking a step ahead of them. He comes to a stop, jumping up and passing it back out to Carlos who has a defender back on him immediately, but Mateo is wide open in the corner now and all Carlos has to do is swing it over to him. Except Carlos only glances in his direction for a fraction of a second before looking back to the hoop, jumping up and taking the shot himself. It bounces off the rim, the rebound falling right into the hands of a defender, and then it’s being lobbed down the court for an easy layup.
Judd’s whistle rips through the gym and their scrimmage effectively comes to an end.
“Really, Reyes? We don’t swing the ball for thirty seconds so you can toss up a shot with two guys on you,” TK grits as he jogs to the huddle.
Carlos gives him a sharp glance and then mutters, “If you passed the ball more often, I could take better shots.”
TK’s retort dies on his tongue as Judd starts recapping the practice. He tries to listen in, no doubt Judd will be looking for direct improvements on Monday, but TK is stuck replaying the scrimmage over and over in his head. Carlos’ comment about looking forward to working together seems so naïve now when they clearly don’t have the chemistry to be a good duo.
They’ve been ending practice like this all week. It’s one thing to run drill after drill and hone in on the technical skills, but they need to apply them—as a team—if they’re going to win this season. And Carlos and TK can’t seem to get on the same page.
Basketball is all about finding a rhythm, anticipating each other’s moves and swinging the ball to stay one step ahead of the defense. It’s eyes on every part of the court, looking for a player to get an open shot and a good one at that.
But he and Carlos can’t find that together. If it’s Carlos in the paint with an offensive rebound, he doesn’t see TK unguarded at the top of the key. If TK’s driving into the lane, Carlos isn’t looking for the kick out. If TK’s hoping he cuts in, Carlos sets a screen instead.
They're not compatible and it’s driving both of them to their breaking point. And now they’re snapping at each other, like Carlos did right before Judd called the huddle.
“Alright,” Judd says once he’s done. “Everybody hit the weight room.”
TK clenches his jaw and before he can head off the court, he angles his head towards Carlos, holding his gaze as he coldly says, “I’m not a ball hog.”
Carlos raises a brow. “Didn’t say you were. But just because you’re rusty and have a year of time to make up for, doesn't mean you’re not part of a team,” he says with a heat that TK had secretly been hoping to bring out, but Carlos’ words cause him to rear back.
“I’m not trying to make up for anything,” TK says, taken aback by how hollow his own voice sounds. He made his choices and he has to live with them, but he doesn’t need the reminders of his mistakes from everyone else. “I’m playing the same game as I always have with this team since I started here three years ago.”
Carlos closes his mouth and TK feels a moment of victory. For a second TK thinks he’s going to walk away, but then he takes a breath and says, “I had at least five open looks, but you were more concerned with driving into the paint and tossing up a sloppy shot.”
TK huffs. “I know you were fed the ball constantly in Arizona, but there are other players on this team that can make a basket,” he spits, locking eyes with Carlos. “You’re gonna have to figure out how to get used to not scoring forty points a game.”
He storms away before Carlos can respond, stalking off to the weight room for their scheduled lift. He already knows the agenda for the day so he sticks his AirPods in and drops down onto a bench in the back corner, curling his fingers over the metal bar above him and ignoring the part of him that wonders if Carlos was right.
“That guy is such a dick,” TK says as he storms into the apartment a couple of hours later.
Mateo turns around slowly, closing the refrigerator door with a protein bar hanging out of his mouth and a water bottle in hand. He beat TK home after he stayed late at the gym, but apparently it didn’t work out his frustrations as much as he wanted it to.
Mateo finishes chewing, looking at TK like he’s lost it, and then asks, “Who?”
“Reyes,” he stresses.
Mateo takes another bite, looking thoroughly confused as he asks, “Carlos? I thought he seemed like a cool dude.”
TK ignores him. “He’s been here, what? A week? And thinks he knows a thing about me.”
“I thought you guys knew each other before this?”
“We played against each other a handful of times. He does not know me or anything about my game.”
Mateo’s eyebrows shoot up as he holds up his hands. “Alright,” he accepts and TK blows out a breath.
“Don’t you think he should’ve passed to you at the end of the scrimmage? You were wide open.”
Mateo has to think about it for a moment, having to recall exactly what TK is talking about and TK wonders what it’s like to not have been plagued by thoughts about the end of practice all afternoon.
In the end, Mateo just shrugs. “There wasn’t enough time on the shot clock,” he says simply. “Besides, Carlos has made a shot while being covered like that plenty of times. He wouldn’t be as good as he is if he couldn’t.”
TK blinks at him, knowing he’s not going to win this. This dislike of Carlos is his own thing that he has to deal with. He’s not a bad person and he is a good player, and that’s the worst part of their whole situation. TK wonders how different things would be between them if they had been on the same team all along.
“Right,” he nods, accepting defeat.
Before he can go hole up in his room for the night, he feels his phone vibrate and pulls it out of his pocket to be faced with a text from his dad.
Dinner tonight?
TK swipes the notification away without a second thought.
“Is that him?”
TK looks up at Mateo, and then back down at his phone. “What? No,” he says quickly. “It’s my dad.”
“Oh,” Mateo shrugs, “It just looked like it pissed you off even more.”
TK huffs. “Yeah, well.”
Mateo raises an eyebrow at that, but doesn’t question him any further. Instead he opens up the fridge again, groaning as he digs around with no luck in finding something to eat.
“He wants to get dinner, but I’m not really up for it,” TK says. “You wanna order take out?”
Mateo brightens immediately. “Oh, can we get ZIKI?”
TK huffs a laugh at the unsurprising answer. ZIKI is a food truck around campus and TK is pretty sure it has become Mateo’s sixth food group since moving here. But it’s cheap and it’s good so TK doesn’t mind too much.
“Are you gonna go pick it up?” he asks.
Mateo doesn’t seem thrilled with this idea, but then he lights up again, digging his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll see if Marj can pick it up on her way home.”
TK watches as he fires off a text and then heads to the fridge himself, pulling out a mineral water.
“Wait, your dad lives here?” Mateo asks. “I thought you were from New York?”
“I am,” TK says, not offering up anything further despite the questioning tilt to Mateo’s head.
“Alright, dude. I’m confused.”
TK sighs. He’s been living with Mateo for two months now and they’ve chatted about class and the upcoming season and way too much Marvel in TK’s opinion, but he doesn’t find his past the easiest to bring up. “He moved here when I was in high school. I lived in New York with my mom and have hardly seen him since I was sixteen.”
“So why’d you come to school here then? You probably had offers from all over the country.”
Mateo’s not wrong about that. Duke, Michigan State, Purdue, and more all wanted him, and he was one step away from going to UCLA before things changed, but before TK can answer Mateo’s question–an answer that wouldn’t have been the whole truth anyway–the door to the apartment opens with Marjan coming through.
“Did you get my text?” Mateo asks as soon as he sees her, seemingly forgetting all about TK’s secret past and he’s grateful for it. A second later, Nancy follows after her and Mateo stands up a little straighter. “Oh. Hey, Nancy.”
“Hey,” she says, giving him a small smile before toeing off her shoes and setting them to the side in a familiar routine.
She’s around the apartment a lot, a mixture of being Marjan’s best friend and something about annoying roommates that TK doesn’t quite know the full story of. He doesn’t mind. They're in similar majors and have a few classes together and it’s nice to have her hanging around when he has questions on something covered in lecture that day. Mateo, on the other hand, is steadily building a massive crush on her.
“Hello, to you too, Mateo,” Marjan says. “And you mean the text you sent literally two minutes ago? Because no, I didn't pick up food.”
His shoulders slump. “C’mon, Marj.”
“You have two legs. Go get it yourself,” she laughs.
“My legs hurt,” he complains. “Coach has been killing us all week.”
Marjan pulls a fake sympathetic frown while Nancy watches on in amusement.
“I’ll go get it,” TK offers after a minute. He could use a walk to clear his head. “What does everyone want?”
He waits while they rattle off their orders, then slips out the door and down the stairs until the warm evening air outside greets him. He inhales deeply and hopes the mile walk gives him time to forget about how the season has only been underway for one week and how he still has six more months to go.
***
“Hey, Coach,” TK says, rapping his knuckles on the door to Tommy’s office. “You wanted to see me?”
She looks up from her laptop, shutting it and nodding at him. “Hey, TK. Have a seat.”
He tries not to feel nervous as he makes his way to her desk. There could be a number of reasons why she wants to see him before practice, including something as simple as a piece of missing paperwork or an emergency contact list that needs to be updated.
But as TK crosses the room and sits in the chair opposite from her, that doesn’t seem to be the case. Her desk is clear of any paperwork TK didn’t fill out and instead she’s staring at him with a gentle smile.
“How have things been going?” she asks and TK finally realizes what she wants to talk to him about. She was the one to find the rehab facility he went to, taking him there herself.
“Good,” TK answers, his hands fidgeting in his lap. He has gotten more used to talking about his problems in front of others, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy. “Going to my meetings every week. About to hit eight months.”
“That’s great,” she smiles. “But that’s not what I was asking. You don’t have to report that to me, I trust you to take care of yourself.”
“Oh,” TK says, once again confused on why he’s here then. “Okay…”
“I meant the team. Being back, catching up… I know Judd switched up our offense and it can be a little tricky at first.”
“Oh. No, that’s good. I think I’ve got it down,” TK says and then second guesses himself. “Unless you think I need some more work with it. Then I’d be happy to look over some play cards if Judd has any—”
“TK, no. You’re good,” Tommy promises and TK nods. “And how’s it going with the new players?”
“Fine…” he says slowly, his voice raising at the end like it’s a question. “Any particular reason you’re asking?”
She laughs a little, laying her hands flat on her desk. “Alright, my method of trying to smoothly transition into this isn’t working so well,” she admits and then leans forward in her chair, folding her hands together. “I wanted to talk to you about Carlos.”
TK shifts uncomfortably. “What about him?”
He knows they’re less than friendly, but he didn’t think it was bad enough to have the coaching staff pick up on it. And definitely not enough to warrant feeling like he got called to the principal’s office. TK wonders if Tommy has also spoken with Carlos or if he’s taking the brunt of this.
“You’re two of our best players,” Tommy says unexpectedly while TK’s worrying that he’s going to get reprimanded. “And I know the season is still young and there’s still plenty of room for adjustment, but I wanted to talk to you about finding a rhythm with him.”
“What?” TK asks, thrown off by the direction this conversation is going.
She sighs. “Look, I’m not saying you have to be best friends. As much as we want this team to be a family, I understand that’s not realistic. I definitely didn’t like everyone I ever played with,” she admits. “But if we had your talent working together instead of separately, that’d be huge for the team.”
“I’m not sure we work well together,” TK tries to say nonchalantly.
“I think you do,” Tommy argues. “You’ve just never had someone to play with at your level.”
TK raises a brow. “Are you supposed to tell me that as a coach?” he deflects.
“Off the record, then,” she smiles and then switches the conversation right back. “You two need to trust each other. Instead of calculating everything before the play, just read each other. Learn to play off one another.”
TK holds in a sigh. “And how am I supposed to do that?”
“Well for starters, work together in practice today,” Tommy suggests like it’s just that simple. “If you need a defender, a rebounder, a partner for any drill, hell even just someone to spot you in the weight room, he’s your guy and you're his.”
“Right,” TK says, trying not to show how much he's not interested in that idea.
“I know you already know his game from how many times we talked about how to play against it,” Tommy adds. “This isn’t all that different.”
TK takes a breath, letting the idea sit with him for a minute. As much as Tommy is willing to work with her players, she’s still his coach and it’s not exactly a suggestion. TK doesn’t have any other choice but to nod.
“You’re both smart players. Use that to work together, not each on your own.”
“Got it,” TK says, forcing a small smile for good measure.
“Okay. That’s all,” she tells him. “I’ll see you out there.”
“Thanks, Coach,” he nods, standing up from the chair.
Before he’s out of the office, Tommy calls out, “Oh and don’t worry. Carlos is coming in here next.”
TK huffs a laugh and his next smile is real. Small victories, he supposes. He’d love to see the look on Carlos’ face when he’s told TK is supposed to be his new best friend.
TK gets to the court early, having nowhere else to be after talking with Tommy. He’s not the first one here, but it’s empty enough that he can pick a hoop in the corner and have it all to himself.
He tries to focus, pushing his thoughts about what this practice is going to be like to the back of his mind as he stretches and then starts shooting around. He starts with a few free throws and then moves into layups before focusing on jumpers. He falls so deep into his rhythm that he doesn’t notice the rest of the gym filling up around him until Carlos is standing under the basket, grabbing the ball when it drops through the net and passing it back out to TK.
TK shoots another just because he can and feels a flicker of satisfaction when it swishes. It makes him break the silence.
“I guess we’re working together today,” he says.
Carlos grabs his rebound again, but this time keeps it for himself. He goes to the same spot TK is at on the opposite side of the court and sinks it just as easily as TK did.
“Guess so,” Carlos says. He jogs over to get his own rebound and when he turns back around, there’s a smirk on his face that TK swears is a lot less malicious than it should be as he says, “Try and keep up.”