CHAPTER 79: SEAT WARS

Breakball arenas were special; no two were the same. Some looked like massive airplane hangars, others were sketchy basements with rickety bleachers, and then you had those outdoor cages where the wind slapped your sweat right off. You had to love the chaos.

Always five-on-five, playoffs at the end, big finals if you made it. That was the dream.

Tonight? Blacklist was up against the Skull Diggers. On paper, dead even, both squads stacked with decent players, but nobody famous enough to get their name on a sneaker.

For Nash, that meant one thing: free stat points. Time to flex, see what he could really pull off with eyes on him.

The team rolled up in a Frankenstein’s monster of a bus, refitted just for Breakball teams. Fat leather seats, wide enough for big bodies, aka, Jaz, overhead racks bursting with shoes, towels, whatever junk they dragged along.

The engine hummed low, chatter bouncing around, sneakers squeaking on the floor. City lights smeared by the tinted windows, kind of a vibe, honestly.

Nash sat on the aisle. He liked being wedged in with the squad instead of staring out at the window. Sentimental, maybe, but it felt right. It didn’t last long, though; the empty seat beside him became prime real estate in a heartbeat.

Jaz came shuffling down, took a big breath, and locked eyes with him for half a second.

She hesitated, then blurted out, barely louder than a whisper.

"Um... about what I said before..."

Nash cocked his head, gave her space. The trigger was already over; no way it could give him negative points now, right?

"Yeah, wanna talk?" he said, keeping it chill.

She nodded, words tripping over themselves.

"Ah... uh... okay, thanks... so—"

And then, Jinzo’s voice crashed through the bus.

"Yo, babe, been waiting."

Jaz nearly jumped out of her shoes. Jinzo and his two goons had their own row, staked out like it was VIP. She shot Nash a look of disappointment, plain as day.

"S-sorry," she mumbled, like she’d just run over his dog, and bolted toward Jinzo.

Nash just nodded.

"It’s cool."

She gave him this weak little smile, cheeks burning, and walked toward Jinzo’s crew.

Nash slouched back, eyes trailing after her.

Lately, she’d been off. Twitchy, holding back, eyes darting between him and Jinzo like she was stuck in a bad soap opera. He couldn’t help but wonder, were they fighting? There was definitely something she hesitated to say.

As she walked off, his gaze dipped, catching the hypnotic bounce of her ass. How would you stay focused in a world like this? The problem when you could touch anything was that when something was untouchable, you would wonder if you could, rather than if you should.

And here Jaz and Jinzo were on the rocks, maybe he oughta make a move? Try to wrangle the sexy giantess for himself?

Nah. Stupid idea. He shook it off quickly.

If he wanted the team to stay sane, he should probably draw some lines somewhere. Not that he trusted himself to stick to them. Who was he kidding?

Suddenly, Alicia popped in, all swagger and fake nonchalance, grin stretched way too wide.

"Yo, sittin’ alone, huh? Not like I care, or whatever, just thought I’d... I dunno, check in."

Nash gave her a look, eyebrow cocked.

"Check in? On me?"

She threw her hands up, her cheeks turning tomato red.

"N-no! Not like that! It’s not like I wanna sit with you or anything! Just... after, y’know... after what happened last time, maybe I should..." She trailed off, chewing her lip. "Just... thought I’d keep an eye on you, alright?"

He couldn’t help it; the smirk just happened.

"Keep an eye on me? Wow, makes me sound dangerous."

She stared at the floor, muttering while her hand rubbed her belly.

"Tch. You are dangerous. Wrecked my guts so bad I waddled around like a duck all day..." She stopped, face frozen, eyes wide as hell. "I-I mean! Not what I meant! Forget it! What I mean..."

Nash tried not to laugh, but whatever, he lost that battle.

"Sure, Alicia. Seat’s open."

She clenched her fists, looking like she wanted to punch him and sit down at the same time. Across the aisle, a couple of the guys shot him looks, straight-up jealous. Alicia was a pretty open girl, but she never gave them the time of day.

"Lucky bastard," Mac grumbled, not even hiding it.

But before Alicia could park herself, Nia swooped in outta nowhere.

"Move. That’s my spot," Nia said, sliding in all bold like she owned the place.

"The hell it is!" Alicia shot back.

They were squared up, voices climbing way too fast. A few teammates leaned in, ready for the show. Someone even whistled. Nash just pinched the bridge of his nose. God, he really had stuck his dick in the crazy, huh?

And then, a shadow. Daliah, Victoria’s assistant, plopped down without blinking, smoothing her skirt like she did every day. Both girls stared at her like she’d lost her mind, then yelled.

"Excuse me???"

Daliah flicked her hair back, didn’t even look at them.

"We’re behind schedule. Unless you want Ma’am herself down here, I suggest you rest your precious butts on a seat."

One glance forward and, yeah, Victoria was drumming her fingers on the armrest, looking like she’d eat them both for dinner. Instantly, Nia and Alicia zipped it and sat.

Nash leaned back, letting out a sigh he’d been holding for seconds. What a circus.

The bus kept chugging along, engine grumbling like it hated every minute. They’d blown past the downtown lights; now it was just warehouses and busted fences, heading out to Southpier.

That place? Real dump. All rust, concrete, and that giant hangar where the Skull Diggers played. From the street, it looked like a condemned shipping depot, but inside, it was wild.

Crowds crammed in, lights blaring, the whole place felt like a cage match waiting to happen.

In the bus, Nash was trying not to overthink it. Daliah, on the other hand, was her usual iceberg self. Barely blinked, just stared out the window.

Then, out of nowhere, she spoke.

"So, how are you holding up? Body still in one piece?"

Nash just lifted a shoulder. Didn’t feel like talking.

"Yeah. I’m good."

But she wouldn’t let it drop.

"Sleep? Appetite? Energy? Any cramps? Any distractions?"

He squinted at her, honestly a little suspicious.

"Why do you care how I sleep?"

Her mouth twitched, almost a smile, but not quite.

"I do care about your well-being. You are our ace, and some of our players won’t perform at all if you’re not at your peak. I noticed you haven’t been at Midnight Rest lately, and you haven’t visited Nia since your first time with her. Ma’am wanted to know if something changed."

Nash slouched back, tried to act like he didn’t care.

"Nothing’s up. I’m just busy. Life’s a mess, deal with it. I can’t be everywhere, every night."

Daliah’s gaze sharpened.

"Quite the busy man, huh? As expected from a man who broke Nia. I understand that, but I need you to understand us as well. Restrictions don’t exist for people like you. You’re supposed to be a superior man, and superior men don’t ration themselves. That’s what keeps them loyal. To Ma’am, a man who eats every luxury won’t walk away from the table."

Her words hit hard. He got what she meant, sure. Guys like him, with talent and the right connections, could basically do whatever the hell they wanted. Party, spend, screw around... easy.

He wanted it, of course, he wanted more, but he couldn’t control his outlook. Every girl he slept with was like a bond to him. The entire "bond" system was there to support him.

But Daliah just kept going.

"Nobody cares who you’re with or when. All these people, they’re desperate for something, luxury, sex, whatever. You stop giving, they’ll move on to the next distraction. To them, you’re a special treat, that’s it. Don’t get sentimental. They’re all out for themselves. So quit dragging your feet and act like the stallion you’re supposed to be."

Nash clenched his jaw, looking away. Maybe she had a point, but damn, it rubbed him raw.

The bus rattled over a pothole. Daliah leaned in, head cocked.

"Need a handjob before the match? I"

He stared straight ahead and let out a slow breath.

"...Maybe after."