Im A Baller Novels & Stories

I should’ve done a lot of things differently. The gym smells like sweat and rubber and noise, the kind of place where everything is loud enough to drown out thought if you let it, and that’s what I try to do. I focus on the ball, the rhythm, the bounce against the floor, the scrape of shoes, the numbers being called, because if I stop, even for a second, I’ll see his hands again and I don’t trust what I’ll do with that. “Damian!” someone yells.

Caleb screamed then threw the ball. Half way into it, I started to enjoy myself, actually running with the ball now before it got stolen from me. They let me set up my camera stand-- all by myself, not like I had a problem with it, but I asked for Nelson and one glare from Cyrus was enough to answer. "Describe your playing style in three words," I sat on the bench, legs crossed as I interviewed them one by one. "Fast, strong and a little bit of aggression," Jamal listed.

I beamed with matching salute. I did mention that the Valler House trains its members to be excellent and close to perfection in all fields right? Well, I was trained by a professional Volleyball player ever since I was 11 years old. I didn't particularly dislike the sport and with all that harsh training, I could say that I should be competing in an All-International game right now if I pursued Volleyball as my main career. But I didn't.

You are not the only one with moves Edward. Changing into tights and sleeveless shirt I entered the basketball court room. He was standing there, six feet three inches tall. Taller than all the guys in my group! Man I just love heighted guys. Probably that’s why I like basketball the most. You find tall players in the sport. He was standing there bouncing the orange ball and then shoot...it went straight inside the pole. “Paul!” He turned around, “There you are. I thought you were ditching me”

I’m undoubtedly another eligible candidate for the basketball varsity team, and I’m sure I’m going to be the best asset on their team, but I know what I want, and I prefer kicking balls rather than shooting them. “Man! That was so greedy of you," Greg cried in crushing defeat impulsively throwing the Ping-pong balls away. “No, I’m not that greedy man. I’m just gifted, and you aren’t,” I said avoiding further conversation with him and his gang as I suddenly grabbed the beer before deciding to start having the real fun tonight which is to find someone to bang and settling on a couch with a few girls gossiping. I snaked my arms into a random girl’s shoulder.

“Kanina pumunta ako kina Ena at nag-usap kami about sa ball. Iyon nga nabanggit ka namin kaya sabi ng Mommy niya na siya na ang gagastos sa mga kailangan mo!” “Huh?” Nakakunot ang noo ko at nahihiwagaan sa nangyayari. Athelia on the other hand did not bother answering my confusion and started squealing to cheer me. Isa lang ang nakukuha ko ngayon. Maaari akong umattend sa ball kung ganoon?

I was speaking but he interrupted. "It's Christiano Ronaldo and Lionel Messi. They both are different players". He again looked at my face and said, "What? They are two separate persons. Well, you know how bad I am with names. Remember I started calling you Ben when we first met". I said nervously trying to cover my lack of knowledge about football. "Yes, I know". He said. "Painting". He again said after some silence. "What?" I asked. "I like painting". He said while looking at me.

So I was feeling extra bored today and decided to write to you about my very boring day. First, I just discovered the mate ball is approaching, do you recall how excited I used to be about Mate-Balls? I remember getting beautiful gowns—just for the ball, and then the night before it, I’ll get dressed, just to admire myself in the mirror. Well, Mate-balls doesn't excite me anymore. Training sessions are the only things I love… and hate at the same time. Sometimes I just wonder if it’ll be so bad to get some action once in a while, but no, all I get to do each day is punch this stupid animal bag.

I looked at Ian and spoke loudly, “I thought you were the captain of a team. But you seem to have forgotten that this is not a football game but a basketball match.”

a muscle memory wakes up inside me small but insistent. It aches. It thrills.it makes my chest tighten in a way i dont know how to handle. i havent held a ball like this in years.Not since the field stopped feeling safe.not since i walked away and convinced myself that leaving didnt break something important. his eyes track the way my fingers clamp around the ball like hes reading every twitch in my grip.he catches the flicker of recognition before i can hide it that quick surge of wanting that flashes through me like an exposed nerve.i try to bury it but it shows anyway.