“Don’t you?”
Yes.
I raised my shoulders as if there isn’t a resounding yes sitting on my soul. I’d do whatever it took to be the best at basketball. At least, I thought I would. I only chose to befriend people I didn’t see as my competition, and I almost never opened up given who my parents were. Both Olivia and Nolan raised me on trusting my gut, and there was not one thing about Brittney that was untrustworthy. She wore her heart on her sleeve and had truly gotten here on her own merit.
In just a short eight days, I felt safe with her.
“I see you’re letting the theater camp effect take over.” She stared at me, giving me a chance to study her face. I was only interested in staying friends, but it was hard not to admire the cupid’s bow on her lips, or the amber flecks in her eyes.
“What the hell is the theater camp effect?”
“I’ve watched my siblings go through it, but it’s that feeling when a production is ending. Everyone knows you only have a limited amount of time together, but when the end comes, you want to delay it as long as possible. So you sing a little louder, or you linger longer on that final bow. Anything to stop the inevitable.”
“And how do you know what I’m thinking?”
“Because it looks like you want to ask me for my phone number.” Brittney grinned, and I couldn’t help but mirror her.
“Let’s see how we do in our first years as rivals.” I decided for us, scared to want anything more, or worse: offer less, and watch disappointment change her features.
“I’ll kick your ass.”
“In your dreams.” I smiled.
“See you on the court, Young.” Brittney shook my hand, addressing me as only opposites would.
“Let’s see who balls harder, Lee.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Bee
For the first time I felt the immediate effects of a bad interview.
“Well…that could’ve gone worse!” Nina exclaimed as she led us out of the press room. I’d believe her if I didn’t see sweat stains under her armpits.
“It can always be worse.” I heard Nola mumble behind me.
“They could’ve played a recap of every time we’ve almost fought on the court.” I said absentmindedly.
“Nah, you’re forgetting the guy who just gave us a tally instead.”
“Right…” I snorted then covered my mouth with my hand. Under no circumstances would I laugh at a joke Nola Young told me. We werefarfrom camaraderie.
Somewhere behind us, I heard Marcello struggling to keep up with our long strides. I didn’t know if the cameras were still glued to his hands, and I thought I’d scream if I saw another red dot blinking in my face.
At some point in our disaster press conference, Amir, Aaliyah, and Daya had formed a semi-circle, probably exchanging agent tips and tricks. Maybe feeling out who was looking for a new hire given there was no way Nola and I were lasting long as professionals in the league.
I could admit when I was wrong—majority of the time—and I hated that I acted like a child in front of everyone. I knew the press would see my passive aggressive comments and antagonizing as unserious. But that didn’t matter, because I was disappointed in my own behavior.
I’d let Nola get under my skinagain. I saw her nonchalant attitude, and decided to e go on the opposite end of the spectrum. No one held back about asking about her mom’s hire to her former team, and eventhatshe’d addressed with maturity and diplomacy.
Me on the other hand? Everyone would’ve had a piece of my mind. I grew up with that expectation I would respect my elders, but getting traded from a team I would’ve spent my whole life on was betrayal. It was a slap in the face. It was hurtful.
And yet she took it with ease.
At some point, either I’d slowed down, or Nola sped up, because we were now shoulder to shoulder. Her scent wafted up my nostrils, fighting to make its way to the front of my brain. I think she smelled like warmth, and jasmine. I wondered how I could get a better whiff without coming off like a freak.
That is not why we’re here.
