Page 19 of Full Court Love
Can’t waste another opportunity.
As sad as it is, I just laugh.
He doesn’t address me by name. He doesn’t ask how the transition has been. He doesn’t congratulate me on the win. I’m a means to an end. He knows enough to know that I had a solid game last night. I played well. In his head, that automatically equates to more money.
This is why I made a promise to myself that no matterhow much money or opportunity came my way at this new school, I would have to turn it down. For the good of keeping this school free from his greed and chaos, I can’t accept anything. Which is fine with me, truthfully, although it would be nice to actually fix up my car and buy some furniture. Really, I just want to play basketball and win.
And maybe be with Lucy. Although, even that’s an added motivator to keep him away.
She’s destined for the WNBA and has lots of sponsorship deals at her fingertips. I don’t even want to imagine what he would do if he caught wind of something between the two of us. The thought makes me shudder.
I delete his message. Then I start grabbing what I need for the store in an attempt to stop my hands from shaking. I need to keep my mind busy and distracted. Tyler comes out, and we head to the little Kroger grocery store down the street from us.
He refuses to tell me what he’s preparing, but I know that his mom is an amazing cook. I’m sure whatever he’s making is delicious and has been handed down through generations. Mine, on the other hand, will take a little more imagination to fit the criteria.
As shocking as it may seem, we never had a lot of family meals, so I have almost no family recipes. But there are some significant foods that got me through my childhood, and I can certainly incorporate those. My mom cooked when she could and those were some of my favorite meals–unfortunately, I don’t have any of those recipes. Which reminds me, I need to call my mom. Not right now, though. It’s time to get creative.
Tyler and I make do with our giant frames both trying to fit in our tiny kitchen, resulting in multiple collisions and unnecessary spills. But by 4:00, we’ve both made something edible. After a quick change in clothes–we both walk out of our rooms in flannel, definitely looking like we planned it and neither of us caring enough to change again–we head over.
The drive is silent. Tyler is maybe more nervous than I am, which is saying a lot. I appreciate that he doesn’t try to force conversation. We walk up the little sidewalk, and I have a flashback to last night.
Lucy, nestled into my side. Her bright blue eyes gazing up at me. My stomach does a flip. I get to see her again in about five seconds.
I knock on the door, and the first thing I see when it swings open is a can of whipped cream hurtling toward my head.
CHAPTER 9
LUCY
Britt has made her feelings very clear. Pumpkin pie is a trash pie. It belongs only on Thanksgiving as a decoration, and even then, she doesn’t want it near her. The texture, the flavor–apparently it’s all wrong.
So of course we brought her a pumpkin pie as a surprise.
The second she saw it, she started fake gagging. As we chased her around the house with it, she threatened to go rub it into our beds to see how much we liked it then. The house had descended into chaos when only AJ heard the knock at the door.
Rather than telling us our guests were here so we would knock it off, she decided it would be funnier to open the door and let them witness it. Unfortunately for all parties involved, Britt chose this moment to chuck the whipped cream canister.
Jordan ducked, and in an expert feat of speed and hand-eye coordination, Tyler caught it while simultaneously balancing his dish in his other hand. We couldn’t have executed the whole stunt better if we tried.
As we settle down from our fits of hysteria–Kya is silently crying tears of laughter in the corner–I’m faced with the reality that Jordan is here. In my home. With me. I’m here andso is he, and there’s no escaping because he was invited and I live here.
I guess if it gets too awkward, I could just move.
The whipped cream stunt certainly broke the ice, and almost broke Tyler’s nose. He doesn’t mind in the slightest. Britt could throw a chainsaw at him and he’d gaze at her like she’s the Eighth Wonder of the World.
He’s been smitten for a while and is patiently waiting for her to reciprocate. Which she definitely will, eventually. But in her current state, it’s like trying to throw a lasso around a tornado–an impossible task from top to bottom.
Jordan is standing off to the side, holding his dish and grinning like a little kid. He’s wearing a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
Credit where credit is due. This boy can rock a flannel. But to be fair, every guy can rock a flannel. It’s like the universal safety shirt for men. And muscular men? Whose forearms look like they were chiseled by Michelangelo himself? Come on. At this point, I’m already wanting to sit on his lap and have those arms wrapped around me for the duration of the evening.
Then there’s his smile. I notice his dimple for the first time at this moment. God help me. How can one person be simultaneously super-hot but also endearingly cute? Does the devil have his soul? Maybe that’s why he’s so cocky. Although a soulless person wouldn’t have taken care of me like he did last night.
So there goes that theory.
I told my roommates what happened over coffee this morning, and with every detail, the cheers and “aww”s grew louder and more aggressive. By the end, I thought we were going to have aBachelorsituation on our hands. He would come over and have to give one of us the final rose.
Instead, they pinned me down on the couch and stole my phone to invite him here for me. I pretended to be angry, butsecretly, it was a relief. I didn’t have to make the move. And the end result is, he’s here in my living room.