Andre Drummond 25 Points Full Highlights (3/9/2016)

Darrun Hilliard had walked over to where Andre Drummond sat in the visitors’ locker room. “Hey Andre, great game toni- wait, what’s that on your phone?”

“Nothing, uh, it’s nothing,” Andre blurted, caught off-guard by the rookie’s sudden appearance. He struggled to manipulate his large fingers to swipe away the picture he was looking at, but when he finally succeeded, the next picture in the series was of the same subject.

“Is that…is that Jennette McCurdy?” Darrun asked incredulously.

“No,” Andre replied, moving to put the phone in his pocket. However, he moved too slowly, and Darrun snatched the device from his hand.

Darrun’s mirth heightened when he scrolled through the pictures saved on the phone. “It totally is! It’s totally Jennette McCurdy! You’re so thirsty!” He said this in a loud enough voice that a few other Pistons teammates looked over.

“If you don’t give that back right now, I’m going to deck you,” Andre said, although the impact of his words was lessened by the fact that he remained seated and looking at the floor. “I’m serious.”

Unfazed by Andre’s weak threats, Darrun swiped through the pictures as fast as he could. “Dude, did you Photoshop yourself into these? There’s no way this is real. I can tell from some of the pixels.”

“It’s NOT Jennette McCurdy,” Andre reiterated, even though this didn’t answer his teammate’s question. “If you shut up right now, maybe I won’t tell coach to stop giving you minutes. Wait, what are you doing?” Andre had noticed that Darrun seemed to be composing a text.

“Just texting some of the best ones to myself,” Darrun answered. “The world needs to know of your creepy sick obsession, Andre. I know a certain highlight maker that would love to see these.”

Andre grabbed the phone back, but it was too late; the text was sent. Still trying to save face, he mumbled, “It’s just some chick who looks like her who I banged like ten times,” but Darrun had already walked off, having pulled out his own phone to investigate the text he had just sent himself.

“Sorry Jennette,” Andre whispered.

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