Page 35 of Full Court Love
I never knew watching someone play the sport I also playcould be such a turn-on. Let me just say, I have learned something new. Watching Jordan play basketball is a massive turn-on.
I’ve been in such a state of bliss that not even Sasha’s relentless remarks can tear me down. Both on the court and off, she won’t stop looking for ways to undermine me. A few games ago, I had an off shooting night, which gave her some ammo at practice the next day. Unfortunately for her, Jordan and I went stargazing that night and he took my mind off any basketball anxiety that otherwise could have derailed me.
He had me rolling with laughter as he made up constellations and pointed at random stars, giving me their fake origin stories. I forgot all about practice and all the anxiety I was feeling in anticipation of my game the following day.
I ended up scoring thirty-three points and leading us to a huge win. The best part of the whole day was Jordan waiting outside the locker room to hug me so tightly, he picked me up off the ground. All my teammates cheered as they walked out the door after me.
Except for one. Obviously.
As fun as all those picturesque moments have been, my favorite part has been Jordan opening up to me. It was so obvious that he’d never really talked about himself. Sure, he could talk about his game and who he was as a basketball player. After all, he never shies away from a little trash talk. But actually divulging real details about his life requires a level of vulnerability that’s foreign to him.
Every day, he makes a little more progress. That first morning when I forced him to answer my questions, we ended up hanging around our house for hours, drinking coffee and eating homemade blueberry pancakes. Once I got him going, he had a lot to say.
Some of it broke my heart. I learned about his parents–how his mom is sweet and hardworking and loyal, and how his dad has been trying to live vicariously through Jordansince he was young. The way Jordan explained it framed it as fairly as possible. He tried to maintain a diplomatic and even emotionally removed demeanor as he spoke. But I caught glimpses of the deeply rooted hurt underneath it all.
This led to a discussion about the scandal surrounding his transfer. The real story isn’t nearly as juicy as the ones floating around the media and even our campus–those centered around baby mamas and throwing games. What actually happened is just plain sad.
With every tidbit I learn, I fall for Jordan a little further. He’s so kind, especially for a person who had very little kindness shown to him. He’s loving for someone who was so hurt by the people he loved. And he’s so hardworking and disciplined for a kid who grew up with almost no structure outside of being in a gym.
There’s also the added bonus that watching him play basketball is so hot. I mean, dang, he looks so good. His arms are so muscular, and drenching someone that sexy in sweat should be a crime because of what it does to my thoughts. Someone must have removed the PG filter I previously had installed because my mind is going to some never-before-seen places.
As I trudge through the early December snow, I wonder if this is what falling in love feels like. My heart races when he walks into a room. I have to bite back a smile when his name pops up on my phone. Every time we touch, a swarm of butterflies erupts in my stomach. All I want is to see him succeed, to know what he’s thinking, to know what his dreams are.
When it boils down, I want is for him to be happy.
And everything in me wants to be the thing that makes him the happiest.
Oh, geez. I’m really in it now.
How did this happen to me? I definitely didn’t go looking for it. I had no interest in falling in love. Not that I’m quite inlove. I’m love adjacent. But I’m relatively certain there’s no stopping this train.
When my phone pings and my heart leaps in my chest hoping it’s Jordan, I know for a fact that I couldn’t stop these feelings even if I wanted to.
Hey cutie:) Can I take you to dinner tonight?
He can literally take me anywhere anytime.
Yup can’t wait!
One more message.
Dress a little fancy. Please and thank you. Pick you up at 6.
Well, all righty then. I was sitting here thinking we would be heading to Chipotle or something. “Fancy” isn’t something we’ve ever done before. Although I can’t say I don’t want it. It’s totally how you visualize going on a date when you’re a little girl.
This is exactly the type of thing my dad used to do for my mom, especially in his final months. He’d wear a suit and tie, and my mom would break out her nicest dress. They’d go to places previously reserved for special occasions because at that point, every extra moment we had with my dad was a special occasion.
My dad’s new motto surrounding their date nights became, “Life’s too short not to eat the fun foods and wearthe fun clothes.” It was slightly morbid, considering how sick he was. But I also loved how he refused not to be joyful. Even in the suffering.
I hadn’t realized my eyes were filling with tears until one rolls down my cheek. Ugh, grief really bites you at the most random times. I went from totally fine to crying on the sidewalk all because of the idea of dressing fancy.
Hurriedly wiping my tears, I notice the noise wafting from the house. I can hear it from the porch. All three of my roommates are definitely in the living room and definitely discussing something in impassioned tones. Though to be fair, we discuss basically everything like it’s the most important topic on earth, so it could be nothing. Don’t get us started on pant sizes or the texture of ice–we will treat it like we are testifying in front of the Supreme Court.
Upon opening the door, I discover the object of their debate.
There’s a flat box wrapped in Christmas paper sitting on the coffee table. It actually fits the Christmas aesthetic of our house to a T. Our little Charlie Brown Christmas tree is engulfed in lights and being weighed down with a few too many ornaments. The package is covered in brown paper and has a simple red bow.
It’s unmarked, though, which is odd.