Page 75 of Love & Streetball

“You keep squeezing my hand like that, I’m not gon’ be able to use it tomorrow,” Kane whispered.

I looked down and realized I had abandoned my own hands and was damn near crushing his.

“My bad.”

“I ain’t tell you to let it go.” Kane tightened his fingers around mine. “Break that motherfucker if you need to.”

A nervous laugh slipped from my lips. Kane leaned over and kissed the side of my head, careful not to mess up what the hairstylist had done. My locs were styled in an updo with a few curled pieces hanging around my face. The stylist had put me in a fitted black pantsuit with a silver top underneath and heels I could barely walk in.

When Kane saw the heels, his eyes had widened so wide, I thought they’d pop. I said I wouldn’t wear any makeup ever again, but Mama talked me into it. She couldn’t stop taking pictures, even sneaking some in. The pantsuit was the compromise. Everybody wanted me in a dress, but I told them they had lost their damn minds. I was already nervous enough. I wasn’t about to be sitting in front of millions of people worrying about my legs being crossed the right way too.

“You look beautiful, baby,” Mama said for the fifth time.

I turned toward her. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m just so proud of you. Proud of all you’ve accomplished. I knew I birthed a star.”

Her watery eyes said otherwise.

“Mama.”

“What?” she asked, blinking rapidly. “I said I’m fine. You worry about getting drafted.”

I offered her a nervous, small smile and then turned to my man whose hand I was still squeezing.

Kane was drafted to the Heartville Hawks. He wasn’t far from home. So many teams were interested in me, I wasn’t sure who would choose me. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to stay close to home.

Part of me wanted to experience something new. A new city. New people. Somewhere where no one knew me. Like…I could start my life over. The other part of me wanted to stay close by.

I glanced toward the stage as another player’s name was announced. Her table erupted. She screamed, hugged her family, and covered her face while cameras rushed closer.

“That’s the third pick,” my agent said. “You’re good, Scottie.”

I nodded like I believed her.

The truth was…it didn’t matter how many mock drafts had my name near the top. It didn’t matter how many teams had interviewed me or how many coaches had praised my game. Until I heard my name come out of the commissioner’s mouth, none of it felt real. I had spent too much of my life learning how quickly good things could disappear.

My knee bounced beneath the table. Kane placed his free hand on my thigh, stilling it.

“Look at me,” he murmured.

I kept my eyes on the stage.

“Slim.”

I finally looked at him. His expression was calm, but I knew Kane well enough to know he was just as nervous as me. He wasn’t nervous about me getting picked, he was nervous about the distance. The tension was there in his jaw. We had a whole discussion about it last night.

What if I go far away?” I whispered.

“Then I’m getting on a plane.”

“You have a whole season.”

“And planes fly in both directions.”

“What if we barely see each other?”

“Then we make every second count when we do.” Kane leaned closer. “Stop trying to find a problem.”