Chapter Two: Love and Basketball, A Tale of Broken Hearts & Fast Breaks

Pan's Neapolitan Pizzeria stood sandwiched between the sprawling department store and the imposing government office building, tucked away in an obscure corner. Liam had regaled Mila with stories about the eccentric characters he encountered at the pizzeria, from truck drivers to paper shufflers. The tales were enough to make her swear she'd never step foot in that place—until now. It was her last hope, the only place she could be certain of finding him today.

Mila's worn-out station wagon lurched along the narrow access road that wound around the department store. Pulling into the pizzeria's parking lot, she let out a resigned sigh and placed her hand on her forehead, stealing a glance at Aria.

"Stay here and indulge in your phone addiction. It might come in handy as an alibi when the police haul you away later," Mila quipped, her frustration palpable. Aria, absorbed in her digital realm, paid little attention to Mila's sarcasm. Mila slipped out of the car and approached the small, orange building.

The chime above the door tinkled as she entered. Her eyes fell upon the counter, where a red-haired, pimple-faced geek stood, his gaze fixed on her. Mila rolled her eyes, immediately regretting her decision to step foot in this place. The boy's lips twitched, and she could practically hear the gears in his brain struggling to form a coherent sentence.

"Alright, hit me with your best shot," she challenged, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. The young man, identified as Simon by his nametag, continued to twitch, struggling to find words.

"I've got a spud gun that can launch a potato at over sixty miles an hour," he blurted out.

"That's your pick-up line? My God! Hate to break it to you, buddy, but your chances of dying a virgin are pretty high," Mila shot back, shaking her head in disbelief. Drained of all enthusiasm, Simon seemed to relax now that the pressure to impress had dissipated.

"Look, I'm trying to find Liam. Is he in the back?" Mila inquired, peering around Simon into the kitchen, where a couple of boys were engaging in an awkward game with homoerotic-looking action figures atop rolled-out pizza dough.

"No, Liam's not here," Simon replied.

"Did he put you up to this? Is he hiding somewhere? Don't mess with me, I need to see him." Mila exclaimed, banging her hands on the counter in frustration.

"He's really not here," Simon whined. "In fact, you just missed him. He came in earlier, right at the start of his shift, and went on this rant. He told us all to go screw ourselves, that he didn't need this job anymore because he's loaded, and that he'd been treating us to free pies for years—"

Mila took a deep breath. It wasn't like Liam to quit his job so impulsively or unleash verbal tirades. Something had hit him hard, and she couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt, fearing she might be the cause.

"—Which is weird because I always thought he enjoyed making us those free pies. They always had this distinct taste of Cool Ranch Doritos. I don't know if he ground up the chips or used some secret seasoning, but we loved it when he cooked for us. We're pretty devastated about it," Simon rambled on, prompting cheers from the gaming nerds in the background.

Mila stepped away from the counter, her mind racing. If Liam wasn't here, he could be anywhere. Waiting outside his house seemed futile since he was far too popular to be home. The entire day was turning into a colossal waste, intensifying the ache in her heart with every passing moment.

"If you want, I can still get you a slice," Simon offered, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. Mila shot him a disgusted look.

"Me? Eating pizza? I wouldn't degrade myself like that. No, thank you." she retorted, rejecting his feeble attempt to uplift her spirits.

With a dismissive motion, she turned to leave, but the sound of Simon clearing his throat brought her back. He had that dumbstruck gaze, and she knew he was about to make another feeble pass.

"Now that Liam's gone, we do have an opening. I could put in a good word for you," he proposed.

Mila gave him a look of utter disdain. "Me? Making pizzas? No thanks. I have better things to do than subject myself to that. I'd rather endure a root canal without anesthesia."

Anxious to escape the stifling pizzeria, Mila swiftly exited the door and slipped back into her car. She leaned back in her seat and stared at the cold, gray concrete wall in front of her. The urge to slam her head against it surged through her, but instead, she succumbed to a wave of dejection, slumping further into the seat.

"How did it come to this?" Aria finally noticed Mila's return and inquired about her progress.

"Not only is he not here, but he quit!" Mila groaned, her frustration pouring out. "This is turning into a nightmare. I'll never find him."

"Well, you can bet he'll be hitting the town tonight. When was the last time that boy stayed in? It's just a matter of which club he's headed to," Aria suggested, injecting a glimmer of hope into the conversation.

Aria had a point, and sadly it was all Mila had left to cling to. Just yesterday, they were a happy couple, doing everything together, and now she couldn't even locate him when she desperately needed to.

How had everything spiraled out of control so quickly? The realization hit her like a wrecking ball, causing her to groan.

"Where on earth could Liam possibly be?"

***

A cell phone vibrated inside a duffel bag near an outdoor basketball court, blending with the rhythmic sound of the ball pounding against the concrete. Liam, locked in a heated two-on-two game, brushed off the distraction and focused on the task at hand.

With a burst of agility, he maneuvered around his opponent, Nate, a lanky black man whose shorts threatened to touch his shoes. Dribbling with fervor, Liam deftly evaded Nate's grasp, leaped into the air, and effortlessly laid the ball into the hoop.

"Alright, white boy. That's the last time I let you drive it up my backside and dump it in," Nate teased, panting from the exertion.

Liam, catching his breath, retorted with a smirk, "Maybe if you pulled your shorts up over your ass cheeks, you might have a chance of catching me."

Passing the ball back to the top of the key, Liam prepared to resume the game when his phone buzzed once more. Irritated, he decided to ignore it, not wanting to be interrupted.

Nate, noticing the constant interruptions, chimed in." Are you gonna get that or are we gonna soundtrack every point with 'Party in the U.S.A.'?" Nate jibed.

"I'm not answering it. The last person I want to talk to is on the other end of that line," Liam grumbled, his frustration evident. Yet, deep down, he knew his friends deserved an explanation, so he passed the ball to a teammate and gathered his thoughts.

"There are things you just can't do to someone, and she crossed that line. We're done, and I don't give a damn what happens to her," Liam confessed, his voice tinged with a mixture of anger and sadness.

Peter, his teammate, inquired, seeking to understand. "What happened, man?"

Liam paused, his gaze fixed on the court, searching for the right words. "Some people have a talent for betrayal. They manipulate and deceive, ripping your heart out through your asshole."

Nate, dribbling the ball as they walked off the court, nodded in understanding. "Sisters, man. They can mess you up. Sometimes, it feels like the world would be a better place with just us dudes roaming around."

Liam jogged off the court, reached for his duffel bag, and silenced his phone. It had been a habit to keep it on, appeasing Mila's demands, but now he could do as he pleased.

He hungered for that freedom before, but after this morning's incident, he wondered if it was worth it. In his friends' company, he found solace and camaraderie. He realized that maybe he didn't need anything more than their support. Well, except for one thing.

"Why is it so damn hard to find a good girl?" Liam pondered aloud, his friends gathering around him as they began shooting around aimlessly. "Seems like just when you think you've found one, the crazy seeps out, and they try to tear you apart."

Peter passed Liam the ball, their shirts drenched in sweat while the others remained dry. As the perspiration sprayed Liam's face, he couldn't help but be distracted.

"Don't I know it, man," Peter wheezed, wiping his brow. "Just the other day, the girl I was seeing turned out to be an illegal immigrant. Guess that's what happens when you go for the smart girl in Spanish class. She got deported, and it feels like a part of me got ripped away."

"Probably be back in a few days, though," Nate chimed in, catching the ball as it fell through the hoop.

Liam, twisting his head to shoot a glare at Nate, corrected him. "That's not what I mean. Haven't you ever realized that deep down, girls are treacherous and manipulative?"

"Sure, dude, all the time," Peter replied, his breath still labored. "But that's everybody, not just girls. The trick is waiting for them to grow out of it. Give 'em fifteen or twenty years, and suddenly they forget they used to post pictures of their boobs on social media."

"Fifteen or twenty years?" Liam groaned, scratching his neck in frustration. Clutching the basketball against his side, he paused as Nate stole it from him, provoking a chase.

"You both have it wrong," Nate declared, dribbling the ball across the court. "Younger women, older women—it doesn't matter. They're all the same. It's easy to get them to care about you, but it's much harder to get your bros to genuinely care about you."

Nate spun around, driving towards the hoop, and Liam found himself backpedaling to defend. Leaping into the air, Nate dunked the ball, his thighs landing heavily on Liam's shoulders.

"How's that taste?" Nate laughed, hanging on the rim.

"Ahh!" Liam yelled, his face buried in Nate's legs. With a wriggle and a gasp, he finally managed to free himself, looking as if he had just survived a roller coaster ride. Taking a few deep breaths, he staggered towards his bag and grabbed a towel to wipe off the sweat.

His phone lay there, flashing another message from Mila. He reached for it, but then quickly recoiled, a flicker of anger in his eyes. He turned back to his friends, determined to move on.

"So where are we going tonight? I can't wait to get hammered!"

"As long as we don't go to another one of those fruity little clubs," Nate added. "I'm talking about a bar with bottles on the shelf, a DJ bumping, and plenty of meat in the jeans."

"I guess that means we'll be headed uptown to the Hawk's Cove," Peter declared.

"The Hawk's Cove it is!" Liam hollered.

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