“Did you guys…” Her eyebrows went up as she didn’t finish her sentence.
Oh dear God.
She thought Brittney and I had already hooked up.
My mouth suddenly dried up Allison wiggled her eyebrows, taking my silence as an admission.
“I fucking knew it. You guys just needed to get it done and over with and—”
“Oh did Nola tell you about the one on one?” Brittney appeared behind me, her hands reaching around my waist to grab cutlery. Her body curved around mine easily, her chest pressed to my side, her cheek slightly pressed to my bare shoulder, my eyes widened at her.
And my aunt fucking saw it all. “Oh, I’m definitely talking about a one on one.”
“She thinks we’re fucking,” I blurted out before I continued to suffer alone.
Brittney’s body froze against mine. I knew it was the shock talking, but now it just looked like our bodies were magnetized toward each other. Two lovers unwilling to ever part. My stomach flipped in a way I hadn’t felt in years. Instead my aunt’s grin grew wider.
“Oh no definitely not.” Brittney straightened at my side, standing next to me. “I kicked her ass on the court and now we’re, like cool I guess, but there is no sexual tension, chemistry, physicality at all.”
I bit my tongue as the image of our bathroom makeout popped into my mind. That was four years too late. Not at all relevant to now.
“Sure, honey.” Allison grabbed the cutlery from Brittney’s hands and left the two of us to catch up on…whatever the hell just happened.
“What did I just walk into?” Brittney turned to me, not breaking our close contact.
“I don’t know, but I’m choosing to ignore it.”
I started to turn away, but Brittney’s spoke. “The Filipino food means a lot, Nola. Like, seriously.”
“Anytime.” I smiled at her, genuinely, not the way I practiced for the media, because I meant it. I liked having a regular conversation with Brittney.
It was nice.
“We’re not at hug status yet, but keep it up, and we will be.” Brittney winked at me and headed back to the table, grabbing a spot next to Daya who was suddenly her new best friend.
I needed a moment to myself. I looked down at my phone, clicking through my socials before shutting it down for the night. The notifications on Instagram were nuts, my mirror picture from earlier getting plenty of DMs and reactions. But at the top of my screen, was my mention in Brittney’s story.
In the photo, Brittney looked snuggled into my chest, her smile blinding the camera. My profile was only focused on her, looking down because she was slouched and for once shorter than me. We looked like we enjoyed each other’s presence, I looked like I was smiling down at her. Like she’d just told a joke, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
If I didn’t know better I’d think we were a couple.
For once, the thought of me and Brittney didn’t make my stomach roll with agitation. Because it fluttered.
Again.
Oh fuck.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Bee
I was taking advantage of the final weeks before training camp began, subjecting myself to early morning practices and weight room sessions. Could I wake up before 9am? Absolutely. Did I find that enjoyable? Absolutely not. But I had adapted to doing whatever was needed of me so I never complained.
I stretched like a cat as I woke up, the time of day unknown since my senses were dulled by my silk eye mask. A heavenly smell wafted upstairs caught my nose. I threw off my bonnet and eye mask and went to the kitchen.
Up until this moment in time, I’d call cohabitating with Nola a successful experiment given we didn’t make eye contact nor touch. We still had opposite schedules with trainers, took to our rooms for meetings with our agents and the various brands we worked with. I even started to feel her presence linger in the living room when I watched my reality tv shows. She initially had no problem voicing her disdain for my preferred shows, but lately when she shuffled downstairs, usually in cropped tees andbaggy shorts that I only stared at when she was not looking, she took her time leaving the room, entranced by housewife fights. I had started inviting her to stay, but she had yet to take me up on the offer.
Which was for the best, because if I couldn’t look at her without getting nervous, casual television watching was not in our cards.
