So why the hell would she stay here?
I looked over at my siblings who were already watching me, Aaliyah eyeing me like I was a flight risk. Amir had his shoulders squared and his jaw clenched like he’d askhow high? the moment I asked him to jump. My family knew me to beimpulsive and unpredictable, even though those were the last two words I’d ever use to describe myself. The Brittney that my family knew me as was not the Brittney my teammates experienced. I was sturdy, reliable, and patient. My gut had led me to Miami, and whether anyone else understood me or not, that was going to be my driving force this season.
My gut, however, did not account for Nola.
Our own relationship—or lack thereof—had given me whiplash. From the outside looking in, we’re just two people who would always be at odds; always seeing each other as competition. Thirty years from now, our dynamic to the outside world would be described as a lifelong rivalry, driven by power and bragging rights.
Meanwhile, I was just a girl who felt betrayed by someone she’d thought was her friend who could’ve been more. After Spain, I realized I hadn’t clicked with someone as fast as I had with Nola. It was easy for me to make friends anywhere I went, but that draw to her, the desire to make her uncomfortable, or give her shit had felt natural.
The weeks leading up to our first collegiate game against each other gave me butterflies and made me giddy with excitement. We didn’t have each other’s phone numbers but we followed each other on socials. We occasionally interacted in the DMs, commenting on each other’s siblings and putting each other in our close friends circles. We chatted and lightly flirted, and it had felt like the universe wanted us to be star-crossed friends.
In hindsight, I was naive. I had an unspoken crush on someone I, in theory, could never be with. Which became crystal clear after every March Madness. Who knew a total of twelve days over four years could impact me more than the four year friendships I had in college? And then she betrayed me, showedmy dirty laundry to everyone, and made people doubt my standings on the Jaguars and in the league in general.
So I made it my business to always remind her of how much she’d hurt me. I embraced my nickname as the league’s crash out queen. All the emotions I’d bottled up inside me over the years spilled out and over with no release during games. I fought for myself and my teammates. I made it every official’s problem when their calls were skewed, biased, or just downright wrong. I was always going to defend anyone wearing the same jersey as me.
But now this meant I’d have to fight for Nola.
In the time I’d been lost in my thoughts, Daya and Nola were whispering to each other in a far corner near a dining table, and my siblings were standing by the couch. They waved me over to join their conversation when Nola yelled from across the room.
“I’m in.”
I didn’t know what my siblings had to say, nor did I care, but I refused to let her appear to be the bigger person. I was going to redeem myself from today’s press conference and forget I only slightly, kind of, acted like a child in front of everyone.
“Me too!”
I heard my siblings stifle noises behind me, saw Nola’s bug eyes get wider, and a small smile spread across Nina’s face. All the while, Marcello was getting the footage of a lifetime. Yeah, this wasdefinitelygoing to do numbers on socials.
It just better be worth it.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Nola
I would be living with Brittney Lee. I would be sharing space with someone who, rightfully so, hated my guts. It didn’t matter if she left most of her animosity on the court for me to deal with and gave me the silent treatment off the court.
We live together now.
She could smother me with a pillow in my sleep, poison my protein powder and suddenly kill me, or, even worse, she could continue to ignore my existence for as long as we were teammates.
I didn’t know why that last thought caused a high amount of dread, but I couldn’t help but feel sad. I was deeply and painfully regretful for the way I’d spoken about her in the media. I prayed her name didn’t come up often. I’d previously called her immature, remarked on how much more muscle mass I had than her and complained about her on-court tantrums. All while ignoring how much faster she was than me and how she seemed to know exactly what to say to rally a losing team.
I hadn’t been kind.
I was never surprised when she antagonized me during games, jammed her elbows a little too roughly into my ribs, or taunted me while she was guarding me.
Those were the consequences of my actions.
But I wanted to change that now. I wanted to be a good teammate on the Waves, and maintain I was someone coaches could rely on. I just also had to work on not trying to cry every night when I remembered how much I missed Chicago. I got messages nearly every day from my old teammates, telling me they missed me, my locker rooms playlists, my annoying shit talk during practice. But I knew there was more they weren’t telling me.
They probably hated the way Olivia delivered her tough love coaching, such a different vibe from our old coach, Pat, who’d managed to turn every huddle into an empowerment circle. They also probably hated how much she made them shoot under pressure. While I knew it was to practice on knowing when to actually take the right shot. They were definitely frustrated at how often their shots didn’t go in, especially in front of the new coach.
“I’ll see you both tomorrow for uniform reveals and touring the facility. You’ll meet the rest of the staff too!”
“Will the camera crew be there too?” Brittney nodded her head toward Marcello who was finally packing up his equipment.
“You bet!” He beamed, unable to read the room and realize that his presence was a nuisance; he was tolerated at best.
“Do you want me to stay?” Daya asked while her eyes flicked between Nina and Brittney. Like she was asking with her eyes,will you survive the night?
