Definitely Not a Thing

Chapter 11

amelia

Today is gonna be a gorgeous day.

That was the random, delulu-as-the-solulu affirmation that popped up on my cell phone when the alarm went off to get me up.

I rolled my eyes at it before I swiped it away – not trying to be negative, but the last month had been such a whirlwhind of not-that-gorgeous that despite my usual purposely-sunny outlook…

I wasn’t trying to hear that shit.

The day was going to be what it was going to be, and I was going to roll with it.

That was the kind of declaration that had been getting me through these days.

So… I peeled myself out of bed to see what kind of day it was gonna be.

A… great twist-out one, I soon realized once I made it to that stage of getting ready. And a phenomenal mascara one after that. I tempered myself though, refusing to get too excited.

Something could – and likely would go wrong at any moment.

Not the weather though – it was such a pretty day, with just enough cloud cover to keep it from being too hot, but still sunny and bright.

A group of teenagers with designer tote bags and better lash extensions than mine told me I was “tea” as I passed them on their way to school, giving me the finger taps and all.

It… was getting harder to keep myself neutral.

I wanted to be optimistic, really bad.

But that’s how they trick you.

Who the fuck was “they”?

Who knew?

But, by the time I sat down at Urban Grind after securing the last butter roll from the bakery case – a truly baffling stroke of luck – I was sure.

They were definitely on my ass.

I had to keep my eyes open.

A notification popped up on my screen, and as soon as I realized what it was – an email from Proxy’s Media Relations Manager – my shoulders sank.

I knew it.

I took a deep breath before I opened the message, steeling myself for whatever the correspondence held.

A… glowing, unexpected shout-out in Sugar&Spice magazine.

That was what it held.

I really need to seek help.

As hard as I tried, all day, to find some gloom that might support my reticence to just chill… I simply could not.

It was great.

The KANAOS class was great, and I got a massage after, got my nails and brows done.

By the time I was heading back to my apartment for the day, the sun was setting, painting the sky over the Heights a beautiful mixture of red and purple and orange and pink.

Somebody had a grill going, and the smell drove me to the corner store at the end of my block.

I got the last plate of burnt ends, and they gave me the extra that wasn’t enough to make another.

That was the last straw.

I was over the moon by the time I made it back to my building – in such a good mood that when I saw Calvin outside on that cracked court, running his usual solo drills, I didn’t avoid him.

I went and sat down on the steps.

And just… watched him.

He was always working out, like he was training for something. Even since the hardware store, nearly a week ago, it seemed like he was ramping up his conditioning.

I wasn’t into sports, not even in the slightest, and still I could tell – he was made for this. He was fast, fluid, but always in total control. His shots slid through the creaky hoop like butter, he seemed to always know exactly where the ball was going to go.

All this while shirtless.

Nice.

“Enjoying the show?”

My eyes went wide when I realized he was talking to me – apparently he’d stopped moving, had the ball tucked under his arm, and was standing right in front of me.

Grinning.

Oops.

Guess I’d locked in a little too hard on that one particular titty-sweat trail dripping down his rib tats.

“Yes, actually,” I answered with a shrug.

That grin of his stretched even wider, and he leaned in, probably about to say something that was going to make my face hot.

But… his phone rang.

A very corporate-sounding tone I wouldn’t have expected from him.

One that made the humor immediately dropped from his face as he pawed at the zippered pocket on his shorts to retrieve the device.

A glance at the screen shifted his expression again – panic, relief, uncertainty all at once – and he gestured for me to hold on while he hit the button to answer and raised the phone to his ear.

“Tell me something good, Boss Lady,” he greeted – there was nothing flirtatious about the tone, but still… interesting way to open a phone call. I couldn’t hear the other end, but then Calvin spoke again. “What about the contract?”

Ooop.

This is not my business at all.

I was up on my feet in record time, giving Calvin a wave to acknowledge that I was going upstairs instead of hanging around.

I didn’t want to be nosy.

So as soon as I was settled at my counter with my plate, I googled my neighbor.

I’d called the man things that weren’t his given name over this time.

Noise Violation.

Big Dick Calvin.

This Motherfucker.

And apparently, the internet had another name for him.

Crossover.

Calvin “Crossover” Cross.

Headlines.

Stats.

Highlight reels.

Pictures giving out turkeys.

And… a bit of scandal.

A bit of “promising career cut short” talk that I was waffling on investigating further.

Today’s vibes had been so immaculate… was I really about to take a hard left?

No.

No, I wasn’t.

I called Kaelyn instead.

She answered on the second ring, bonnet and pimple patches on for the night, ice cream spoon in hand. “Bestiiiieee,” she sang, then squinted at the screen. “Wait – why do you look like that?”

I frowned, looking down at my clothes and then back up. “Like what?”

“Like you just found out Big Mama sold the house.”

I sucked my teeth. “Shut up,” I laughed. “I just… found out something I feel insane for not already knowing?”

“Okay…” she sat up a bit, and I realized she was stretched out on her couch at home. “So spill the beans?”

I sighed. “So… you know how the night we had that blackout over here… I slept with my neighbor?”

“The neighbor you’ve been being all secretive about that nigga’s name?!”

“Because you would’ve done everything but a background check, and I wasn’t trying to get that involved!”

“I do the background check now too, first of all,” Kae said, jabbing her spoon at the screen. “And second – that man has had his dick in you, I don’t know how much more involved it gets!”

“You know what I mean.”

“I know you’ve been self-sabotaging cause Hunter fucked your head up.”

I gasped. “Self-sabotaging how!?”

“Bitch! Are you not in a whole… whatever you wanna call this thing with your stranger danger neighbor?!”

“He’s not a stranger! And there’s no thing.”

“It’s a thing, Ames. It’s definitely a thing.”

“It’s definitely not a thing, excuse you. Can I say what I called to say, damn!”

“Say it then!” Kae laughed, eating another spoon of ice cream.

“Thank you!” I huffed, pausing for –infuriating, based on Kae’s expression – dramatic effect before I said, “Girl why is this nigga a whole professional basketball player?”

She blinked.

Blinked again.

“I’m sorry… what? I thought I heard you say the “random” neighbor you’re fucking is a professional basketball player?!”

“I did!”

“Girl, what?!” she shrieked. And then, “Who?!”

“Calvin Cross.”

“The Crossover?!” she yelled, standing up from her seat. She fumbled with the phone a second before it came with her, putting her face back into view. “Amelia… you didn’t know?!”

“Kae – do I seem like the type of bitch that would know?!”

She laughed. “I mean… generally speaking, no. He’s not like… superstar level like a Kevion Ward, but girl… I know Hunter hates your ass.”

“What does he have to do with it?”

The grin slid off her face. “Wait… so… if you didn’t know who Calvin was… oh, friend.”

“Oh my God, what??”

“Do you remember that time I came and stayed in the Heights with you – you had moved in with Hunter already, but he was going out with his friends.”

I nodded. “Yeah, they went to a Brawler game, and like a party after or something. They stayed in Blackwood.”

“Yes, that’s exactly the night I’m talking about. I was there when Hunter left to go out… wearing a Brawlers jersey. More specifically, wearing a Calvin Cross jersey.”

“Nooooo!”

“Oh yes,” Kae started cackling. “I remember because Calvin got in major freaking trouble that same night – suspended for the rest of the season, actually. It was a big deal, and I meant to ask Hunter about it, but… I don’t like talking his ass, so I just didn’t.”

“Oh my goodness, no wonder he’s been so damn pressed about every interaction.”

“Not you fucking on his favorite playerrrrrr,”

“Not on purpose!” I defended, but she just kept laughing.

“That’s what makes it so good. Oh man… what a great turn of events.”

“Kae!”

“What?!”

“That’s so mean. I’m mortified.”

She sucked her teeth. “Whatever. Didn’t you say Hunter already had a new boo anyway?”

“Yeah, but—”

“But nothing,” Kae spoke up. “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not your fault he lost his girl and his favorite player – he can take it up with whoever he pissed off enough to stick them needles—”

Mid-rant, a knock sounded at the door.

A fresh grin spread over Kae’s face. “Is that him?”

I didn’t even know which him she was referring to, but I desperately hoped it was neither as I made my way to the door to peek out.

Calvin.

Still with no shirt on.

“Okay I’ll talk to you later,” I told Kae, who immediately burst into a fit of giggles. “Oooh, she’s getting off the phone to talk to her booooo!”

“Oh my God, shut up,” I hissed, then ended the call, hoping like hell Calvin hadn’t heard her loud ass through the door.

I stowed the phone in my pocket, then unlocked and opened it to find him grinning.

“You know I heard your loud ass friend, right?”

Of course he had.

“How can I help you?” I asked, instead of entertaining that at all, since Calvin was a little too slick at the mouth for me to not get caught up. “Oh!” I quipped, eyes wide, as he welcomed himself inside before turning to me to raise and flex his arms.

“Guess who gets to start training camp next week?” he boasted, making me laugh.

“Congratulations, I’m assuming?” I replied. “That’s a good thing, right?”

He frowned at me a moment before shaking his head. “Damn, you really don’t fuck with the sportsball, huh?”

“I don’t” I admitted. “But, I love that for you… I think?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “It’s a good thing. That call I got, it was from my agent, so I couldn’t let it get past me. Sorry for interrupting our conversation though.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Was it a conversation?”

“It was certainly about to be,” he said, moving closer to me. “Something about you admiring my elite athletic physique… remember?”

“Not even a little.” I crossed my arms. “Back to important matters – you were worried about not getting invited to training camp? That’s like… summer practice?”

He scoffed. “More like fucking… tryouts. I’m being given a chance to earn back my spot on the team.”

“Which is…?”

“Shooting guard,” he said. “Although, technically, that’s not really—”

“Please don’t… I’m not gonna have any idea what you’re talking about,” I said, stopping him before he launched into whatever technicality he was about to explain. “What do you do?”

He laughed. “Uh… make buckets, and make however is trying to keep me from making said buckets look silly whenever I can.”

“Okay, that I understand… I think. But… and forgive me if this is too nosy, but that sounds super important. So… if you were responsible for that… why do you need to prove yourself to the team?” I asked. “Like… why do you have to earn back your spot?”

Calvin sighed, shoving his hands into the pockets of his shorts. “Uh… I got suspended from the league a few months ago – couldn’t finish the season.”

“Damn – what did you do?!”

“Uh…” he blew out another sigh. “I kinda… punched a coach, mid-game.”

My eyes went wide.

I didn’t fuck with the sportsball, and even I knew…

“Yeah, it was pretty bad,” he agreed, nodding. “I still feel like I actually didn’t do enough, but I probably would’ve gotten banned… and arrested… so… everything considered, it went as well as it could.”

“Calvin… now why the hell would you punch a coach?!” I asked. “The other team?!”

“Nah. One of mine,” he admitted. “But in my defense… I warned his ass it was coming.”

I shook my head. “My mind is blown – you punched one of your coaches and you’re still on the team?”

“I’m still on contract,” he corrected me. “On the team is yet to be determined, which is why… training camp.”

“I get that part, but still. Everybody must not like him or something?”

“Literally the most punchable nigga on the planet,” Calvin explained. “My head coach wasn’t even mad like that for real, but it was conduct unbecoming or some bullshit. As if his ass wasn’t… you know what, never mind, before I get pissed all over again,” he chuckled, and I nodded.

“Fair enough. But… I’m dying to know what was the last straw?” I kinda whispered. “You can tell me to mind my business, I won’t be offended.”

“Nah,” he shook his head. “I’m not trying to get into it too deep, but he said some slick shit about something…

deeply personal, deeply private, deeply nothing to do with him, or the team, none of that.

But he decided mid game, Trojans handing us our ass in a frilly basket, everybody already stressed the fuck out, to say something that was…

too fucked up for me to let slide. So I didn’t. ”

“You know… I love a good standing on business moment myself, so I can’t even blame you,” I said. “And I really hope you do amazing at training camp – how was their season without you?”

He smirked. “I’m not saying it’s because I wasn’t there, but the three seasons before this, I was there, and we at least made the finals.”

“Oh they’re missing you bad.”

“I may have heard a little of that from my teammates. But you know… we’ll see. I’m looking forward to proving myself,” he said, heading for the door unprompted. “Appreciate the pep talk, Sunshine.”

I grinned. “Ohhh, I’m not Pissy today?”

“Nah, you’re on a different energy today – good vibes.”

“Don’t get too used to it,” I quipped as I opened the door to see him out. “I punch niggas too.”

His eyes went wide, and I laughed. “That was supposed to be a joke.”

“Hahhahah,” he deadpanned, then grinned, and I just closed the door.

Damn.

Today was a really good day.