Chapter 2: Post-Game High and Bedroom Low The locker room was still buzzing when Jim walked back in from the court. His teammates were hyped, shouting over each other, replaying the best moments of the game like they hadn't just lived through them ten minutes ago. "Yo, did you *see* that pass Jim threw?" Manny was saying, holding an imaginary ball. "I swear I didn't even know Zion was there!" Zion grinned from his locker. "That's 'cause you're blind, man." "Nah, that pass was *ridiculous*," Sean chimed in. "Like, how do you even see that?" Jim pulled his jersey over his head, tossing it into his locker. His skin was still damp with sweat, chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. The adrenaline from the game was fading, replaced by that post-win exhaustion that felt good in a way nothing else did. "Y'all act like I don't do this every game," Jim said, kicking off his sneakers. Kenny snorted. "Man, shut up." "I'm just saying." Jim grabbed a towel, wiping down his face and neck. "Y'all surprised every time like I'm out here doing magic tricks." "You kind of are," Eli said, laughing. Coach Harper stepped into the locker room, clipboard under his arm. The noise didn't stop, but it dimmed a little. Everyone respected Harper—dude had played point guard back in the day and knew the game inside out. "Alright, listen up," Harper said, his voice cutting through the chatter. The room quieted down. "That was a hell of a performance tonight. Seventy-eight to fifty-one. We dominated them start to finish." A few of the guys cheered. "But," Harper continued, raising a hand, "don't get complacent. Lincoln Prep's not a championship-level team. We've got tougher games ahead, and if y'all walk into those thinking you can coast, you're gonna get embarrassed. Understood?" "Yes, Coach," the team said in unison. Harper looked at Jim. "You did your job tonight. Great court vision, good decision-making. But I need you staying focused. The scouts are gonna be at every game now. Don't let it get in your head." Jim nodded. "I got it, Coach." "Good." Harper clapped his hands once. "Hit the showers. We'll debrief tomorrow at practice." He left, and the noise picked back up immediately. Jim grabbed his phone from his locker, checking it while he peeled off his compression shorts. He had a bunch of notifications—Instagram, Twitter, a few group chats blowing up. But the first thing he saw was Valeria's texts. **Valeria:** baby you looked so fucking good out there **Valeria:** i'm so wet rn **Valeria:** come over **Valeria:** please **Valeria:** i need you Jim smirked, typing back one-handed. **Jim:** damn you that needy already? **Jim:** give me 20 **Valeria:** hurry He scrolled through the rest of his messages. A text from his mom telling him how proud she was. One from Greg saying he played "decent." A message from Rich Paul asking if he had time to talk tomorrow about some upcoming scout meetings. Then there were a few texts from scouts directly. One from a Celtics guy, another from someone repping the Heat. They all wanted to set up calls or meetings, talk about his future, his development, all that. Jim knew Rich would handle it, but it was still surreal seeing it pile up like that. He pocketed his phone and headed to the showers. Twenty minutes later, he was dressed in black joggers and a white hoodie, his hair still damp, gym bag slung over his shoulder. Most of his teammates were still getting ready, but Jim dapped a few of them up on his way out. "Yo, where you going?" Kenny called. "Got plans," Jim said. Zion grinned. "Valeria?" "Mind your business." "That's a yes," Sean said, laughing. Jim flipped them off over his shoulder, pushing through the locker room door into the hallway. --- Valeria lived about fifteen minutes away in a decent apartment building her parents paid for. They were loaded—her dad owned some kind of import business, her mom did something with real estate. Jim didn't ask too many questions. All he knew was that Valeria had her own place, which was clutch. He texted her when he was outside, and she buzzed him in immediately. By the time he got to her door on the third floor, it was already cracked open. "Took you long enough," Valeria said, leaning against the doorframe. She was wearing one of his old Warriors hoodies—oversized on her, hanging just past her thighs—and nothing else as far as Jim could tell. He stepped inside, dropping his bag by the door. "I literally got here as fast as I could." "Not fast enough." She grabbed the front of his hoodie, pulling him toward her. Her lips found his before he could say anything else, and he kissed her back, one hand sliding to her waist, the other shutting the door behind him. She tasted like mint gum and something sweet. Her body pressed against his, warm and soft, and Jim's hands moved to her ass, gripping her through the hoodie. "You're not wearing anything under this, are you?" he murmured against her lips. "Why don't you check?" His hand slid under the fabric, fingers finding bare skin. He smirked. "Thought so." Valeria bit his bottom lip, tugging gently before pulling back. "Bedroom. Now." "Bossy tonight, huh?" "You love it." She wasn't wrong. --- They barely made it to the bed. Jim pushed her down onto the mattress, and she looked up at him with that teasing smile she always had when she wanted him to wreck her. Her hair was spread out on the pillow, the hoodie riding up to her stomach, and Jim took a second to just look at her. "What?" she said, raising an eyebrow. "Nothing. You just look good." "I know." She sat up on her elbows. "You gonna stand there all night, or you gonna do something about it?" Jim pulled his hoodie off, tossing it aside. "You're really trying to get me to shut you up, huh?" "I'd like to see you try." He climbed onto the bed, grabbing her wrists and pinning them above her head with one hand. She gasped, eyes widening slightly, but the grin didn't leave her face. "You talk too much," Jim said. "Then make me stop." He kissed her hard, biting her bottom lip just enough to make her moan into his mouth. His free hand slid up under the hoodie, fingers brushing over her stomach, her ribs, until he reached her chest. He squeezed, and she arched into him, her breathing already getting heavier. "Jim—" "Shut up," he said, his voice low. She moaned again, and he could feel her pulse racing under his hand. He let go of her wrists, sitting back just long enough to pull the hoodie off her completely. She was naked underneath, just like he thought, and the sight of her made his mouth go dry. "You're so fucking hot," he said, running his hands over her thighs, spreading them apart. "Yeah?" She bit her lip, looking up at him. "Then fuck me already." Jim didn't need to be told twice. --- It was rough, the way she liked it. Jim's hand found her throat, squeezing just enough to make her gasp, her nails digging into his back. He fucked her hard, the headboard slamming against the wall with every thrust, and she was loud—moaning his name, cursing, begging him not to stop. "You like that?" he growled, his grip tightening slightly. "Yes," she gasped. "Fuck, yes—" He spat on her chest, watching it slide down between her breasts, and she moaned louder, her legs wrapping around his waist. "You're such a fucking slut," he said, leaning down to bite her neck. "Your slut," she shot back, breathless. That made him grin. He shifted the angle, hitting deeper, and she cried out, her whole body trembling under him. "Jim, I'm—" "Not yet," he said, slowing down just enough to make her whimper in frustration. "Please—" "Beg." "Please, baby, please—I need it—" He picked up the pace again, watching her fall apart beneath him. It didn't take long. She came hard, her back arching off the bed, nails raking down his arms. Jim followed a few seconds later, burying his face in her neck as his whole body tensed. They stayed like that for a minute, both of them breathing hard, slick with sweat. Then Valeria's phone buzzed on the nightstand. Jim barely noticed at first. He was still coming down, his mind hazy, but the phone buzzed again. And again. Valeria shifted under him, reaching for it. "You good?" Jim asked, rolling off her. "Yeah," she said, but her voice was distracted. She grabbed the phone, glancing at the screen. Jim watched her face change—just slightly, but enough that he noticed. Her eyes narrowed, her jaw tightened, and she swiped at the screen quickly before setting the phone back down. "Who was that?" he asked, propping himself up on one elbow. "Nobody," she said too fast. "Didn't look like nobody." "It's nothing, Jim. Just my mom." He didn't believe her, but he let it slide for the moment. "Alright." She turned to face him, smiling, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "You want something to drink?" "Sure." She got up, grabbing the hoodie off the floor and pulling it back on as she left the room. Jim lay back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling. Something felt off. Valeria's phone buzzed again on the nightstand. Jim glanced at it. He wasn't the type to go through people's shit, but the way she'd acted when she saw it earlier stuck with him. He hesitated, then reached over, picking it up. The screen was locked, but he could see the notification previews. **Unknown Number:** we need to talk **Unknown Number:** i'm serious val **Unknown Number:** don't ignore me Jim's jaw tightened. He set the phone back down, exactly where it had been. Valeria came back a minute later with two bottles of water. She handed one to him, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Thanks," Jim said, cracking it open. She took a sip of hers, not meeting his eyes. "So," Jim said, keeping his tone casual, "your mom texting you a lot tonight?" Valeria froze for half a second, then shrugged. "Yeah. She's just checking in." "At eleven at night?" "She worries." Valeria finally looked at him, her expression unreadable. "Why are you interrogating me?" "I'm not. Just asking." "Well, don't." Jim raised an eyebrow. "Damn, alright. Didn't know it was a sensitive topic." She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I'm sorry. I'm just tired." "You seemed pretty awake like five minutes ago." That got a small smile out of her, but it faded fast. She stood up, grabbing her phone off the nightstand and shoving it into the hoodie pocket. "I should probably get some sleep," she said. Jim watched her, feeling that weird knot in his chest tighten. "You kicking me out?" "No, I just—" She hesitated. "I have a thing early tomorrow. Family stuff." "Alright." Jim swung his legs off the bed, grabbing his joggers off the floor. He pulled them on, then his hoodie, moving slower than usual because part of him was waiting for her to say something else. To explain. To stop acting weird. She didn't. "See you tomorrow?" he asked, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Yeah. Definitely." She walked him to the door, leaning up to kiss him. It was quick, perfunctory. Not like earlier. Jim pulled back, looking down at her. "You sure you're good?" "I'm fine, baby. I promise." He didn't believe her. But he nodded anyway. "Alright. Text me." "I will." Jim left, closing the door behind him. He stood in the hallway for a second, staring at the number on her door, then turned and headed for the stairs. The whole walk home, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Valeria had never been distant like that before. Never brushed him off. They teased each other, they joked, they fucked around, but they didn't lie. At least, he didn't think they did. By the time he got back to his place, it was almost midnight. The house was quiet—everyone was asleep except his dad, who was watching some old game in the living room. "How'd it go?" Lenny asked without looking away from the TV. "We won," Jim said, dropping his bag by the stairs. "I know. I meant with Valeria." Jim paused. "How'd you know I was with Valeria?" Lenny finally looked at him, smirking. "You're my kid. I know things." Jim shook his head, heading for the stairs. "It was fine." "Fine?" "Yeah. Fine." He didn't wait for his dad to press him. He went up to his room, shut the door, and collapsed onto his bed fully clothed. His phone buzzed. He pulled it out, hoping it was Valeria. It wasn't. It was Rich Paul. **Rich:** Great game tonight. Let's talk tomorrow about next steps. Lots of interest. Jim typed back a quick "sounds good" and tossed his phone onto the nightstand. He lay there, staring at the ceiling, replaying the night in his head. The game. The sex. The texts. The way Valeria had looked at her phone. The way she'd looked at *him* after. Something was off. And for the first time since they'd started dating, Jim wasn't sure he wanted to know what it was.