I watched her read my face, then appraise the rest of my body. I didn’t even have time to grunt out a greeting before she was tapping the empty cushion next to her.
“You look like you can use someone else’s drama to distract yourself. And eat some popcorn.” She held out the bowl with her other hand.
“Do I look that rough?” I obeyed and slumped onto the couch, my legs stretched out and my head on the back of the furniture.
“Not rough, just sad.” She didn’t pause the show, talking over a confessional of a rich, white woman witha lotof botox and filler. “We don’t have to talk. We can just sit here and think about someone else’s life.” Brittney smiled at me like her plan was bulletproof. This was the first time I really noticed how her eyes got swallowed up when she smiled like this, wild and unencumbered . She didn’t ask questions, wouldn’t pester me to be honest, or watch me with waiting eyes hoping I open up anyway. She simply gave me space.
I would rather not spill my guts unnecessarily, but if life with Brittney was decent after our truce, life was significantly better since I cooked her breakfast for her birthday. My green juices didn’t allude to poisonings anymore, but random fun facts she acquired at some point in her life. While she was out for the morning, I found myself making an extra sandwich for her, or doubling recipes instead of the serving of one I’d tailored for myself for the last four years.
She sent me videos of herself eating them.In case you don’t believe me!she’d clarified after the first time I questioned her, and I pretended like I didn’t wait to hear the moan she made anytime she ate food she thought was scrumptious.
In two month’s time, I’d gone from never speaking to my rival, to living with and enjoying her presence in my life. From listening to her decent singing voice, to eavesdropping on conversations with her siblings, I went from wanting to be as far away as possible, to finding more ways to observe without her noticing.
It was time to admit I had a crush.
But only to myself andneverto her.
I didn’t realize I’d been sitting in the same spot for two hours until my stomach aggressively rumbled.
Brittney grabbed the remote and paused the show. “You know, you sat here for two episodes and had no questions.”
“Was I supposed to?”
“This is season four! It was filmed like ten years after season three——one of the longest hiatuses ever for a franchise, and you just jumped into an argument between two estranged sisters!” Brittney gawked at me.
“You know, I was wondering who was who, but their faces were frozen and I didn’t want to be offensive.”
“Would you believe me if I said they’re fifteen years apart? The older one is forty.”
“Be serious.”
“Oh, I am. My mom looks younger than both of them.”
“My dad’s mom doesn’t even look like she’s eighty.” Momma Williams was one of those grandmas who shivered at the thought of being old, and she didn’t need every skincare step to keep up.
“Well, Black don’t crack.” Brittney quipped without looking at me. I’d been noticing how fleeting her glances had been. Like she thought the second we made eye contact, I’d know every deep dark secret of hers. Meanwhile, I didn’t have any secrets, and the idea of spilling my guts to her didn’t feel so scary anymore.
It felt like we were eighteen again, thrown into a crash course of how much we could learn about each other in the smallest amount of time. I closed my eyes and saw our younger selves, my unbleached hair and Brittney’s space buns. I felt the slip of her hand into mine, the goosebumps I’d blamed on the nerves of being pierced but were actually nerves I got only around her. A mix of fear because she was so goodandso beautiful. There was a brief period of time where she’d looked at me with warmth and familiarity, even when we were strangers.
And it felt like I was getting that old look back now.
“How are you feeling now?” She faced her body toward me and leaned her arm and head on the back of the couch.
I rolled my neck, trying to find the words. I didn’t want to unload, I was used to carrying everything inside and letting it out when I played. But I was still two weeks away from training camp, and someone had to know losing to the Violets this season, no matter how many games, wasn’t an option.
“Are we on an emotional rant basis yet?” I asked timidly. My need for human connection beat out pride telling me to keep everything close to my chest. I didn’t know who I was right now.
But maybe I felt myself softening around Brittney, within these walls.
Her arm crossed into my space without hesitation, her face turning sincere and kind at the sound of my voice. She grabbed my hand, her skin immediately making mine feel like it was engulfed in fire, and I had to look down to make sure it wasn’t. I forgot how her hands were slightly smaller than mine, but her grip was firm, like she was sending every ounce of strength to me, whether she knew I needed it or not.
“We are absolutely on an emotional rant basis, Nola.”
I nodded my head, the last ounce of hesitance and full acceptance of us being friends, I guessed, shifting in my brain to accommodate for our new dynamic.
“I finally spoke to my mom.”
“Oh, shit.”
