Chapter 13
calvin
A week.
Training camp starts in just about a week.
Fuccck.
Why did that sentence set off a nervous buzz that settled in my stomach like I was some fresh recruit?
This wasn’t my first training camp.
It wasn’t even my fifth training camp.
I wasn’t at “seasoned vet” status yet, but I was no rookie either – if that bullshit with Coach Lewis hadn’t happened, last season would’ve been the one that did turn me into a household name.
I’d been on fire, and all it took was a little fuel from my sperm donor to give Coach Lewis the ammo he needed to douse me out.
Over a woman who’d used me as a sentient dildo.
Not that I hadn’t fully enjoyed myself, but it was crazy that ol’ boy had crashed out so hard over me fucking his ex wife when it was purely that.
Crazy ass chain of events, period.
And now here I was, feeling the effects of my own poor decision making with my appendages – I’d promised myself since then to be a little more careful.
Promised my mother I’d be a little more careful.
A loud thump from next door pulled my attention away from the calendar I’d been reviewing on my laptop to my shared wall with Amelia.
What the hell is she doing over there?
I shook my head.
Nope.
Whatever her fine ass had going on over there was not my business – I was not supposed to be seeking interaction.
We were neighbors.
Friendly neighbors.
Friends.
That’s it.
All it needed to be, for both of our sakes to be honest.
I shifted my attention back to my screen.
Training camp in a week.
The RSM mixer in a few days.
Training camp was going to be my first time with a ball in my hand in an official capacity in months, but the mixer… that was work, too.
It wasn’t an official team event, but many of my teammates would be there, because they were signed to Richardson Sports Management as well.
They always held it at this time of year, right in this little pocket where most major sports were in a quiet period, which meant they could have their big party with all their athletes, their spouses, and plenty of others adjacent to the professional sports industry.
Deals got made at this party.
Connections got made at this party.
Relationships – the romantic type -- got made at this party.
That was the part I was feeling kinda iffy about, honestly speaking. It was always teeming with fine ass single women, which wasn’t the worst thing to happen to a man, but damn.
It was never on any quick-hit, groupie type shit either.
They were trying to get locked down, trying to make a ring-worthy first impression they could cash in on later. And while I respected the hustle, I simply wasn’t on that type of time, so I wasn’t interested in the whole, come meet this friend set up.
Jordan and Cole – the Richardson-Johnson’s of the R in RSM – might not like it, but I was strongly considering simply skipping it, to avoid dealing with that shit all night.
But how would that reflect in other areas?
I was mulling that over when another, louder thump came from next door, paired with an unmistakable, feminine “ouch!”
I was on my feet before I could even stop myself.
Seconds later, I was knocking on Amelia’s door, and getting worried when I didn’t get an immediate answer. I knocked again, fully prepared to force my way in when the door finally cracked open, and Amelia peeked out.
“Yes?” she answered, clearly out of breath – eyes wide, hair uncharacteristically disheveled.
“Everything okay?” I asked, trying to peek behind her, but she moved so only a sliver of the door was open.
“Mmhm!” she squeaked – voice entirely too high – “Why do you ask?”
My eyes narrowed, and then I immediately just pushed past her, stepping in to look around.
“Excuse you!” she fussed behind me, but didn’t try any harder to stop my progress into her apartment. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Seeing what the hell is going on,” I answered, scowling as I turned to her. “I heard thumping, heard you get hurt—”
“Wait – did you think somebody else was in here?” she asked, crossing her arms.
I shrugged. “Just making sure.”
“So you ran in my house half naked ready to kick ass cause you heard me say ouch? That’s so…”
“Chivalrous? Admirable? Gener—”
“Obsessed,” she laughed. “You’re so obsessed with me!”
“I… man, whatever,” I chuckled too, shaking my head. “This is how you thank me for making sure some nigga wasn’t in here knocking your head into the dishwasher?”
She sucked her teeth. “You know what – you’re right, Calvin. Thank you. Now if you’ll excuse me… neither of us is dressed for company, so…”
Now that she’d brought up my level of undress a second time, I looked down at myself – I was, indeed, in just my boxers. She was in boy short panties and a sports bra.
So… okay, we were both in our underwear.
I guess I got her point.
And then, looking past her, I got what all the racket was about.
“You trying to break something?” I asked, pointing to the half-assembled basket-chair-swing thing laying on the ground, and the pastel-handled tools strewn about the floor. I saw the big ass hook… the coffee table pulled to an awkward spot… no ladder… “Amelia…”
“What?” she replied, voice all fake-innocent, eyes wide.
“Did you fall off that damn table?”
She raised her hands like she was confused. “What table?”
“That table!” I pointed. “Don’t piss me off right now.”
“Why are you being mean to me?!” she huffed, crossing her arms – this time, I caught the quick, pained expression as she did.
“Nobody is being mean to your silly ass,” I replied, moving closer to look at her arm. “You wouldn’t be able to fake like you aren’t in here being reckless if it was broken, so at least there’s that,” I said as I surveyed her.
“Dramatic,” she accused. “It’s nothing a little ice won’t fix.”
“Because you got lucky. Why are you trying to put that thing up anyway – I didn’t think you wanted to get quite so settled in.”
She sighed. “Well, yeah, that was the plan, and then I found out that the whole dream brownstone thing is looking more like a nightmare – they found mold.”
“Ugh.”
“Yeah, exactly,” she nodded. “So… after that bit of bad news, I figured I would do something that made me happy – and putting up this chair would really make me happy, I think. I talked to Claire, and she gave me some tips and stuff, helped me find the right beam to hang it from… I just don’t have a ladder.
I thought between the table and me on my tiptoes… ”
“Nah,” I chuckled. “You know you could’ve shot me a text, right?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t want to overstep.”
“Overstep?” I scoffed. “We text about every other random thing.”
“Yeah, but… this is a little different. Hanging stuff, building furniture… that’s getting into favor territory, and I know how niggas get.”
My eyes went wide. “Enlighten me. How do we get?”
“Pervy,” she answered, shrugging. “You ask a male “friend” for a favor, and it’s a well known fact that you risk him wanting a favor in return.”
I frowned. “What’s wrong with that? I scratch your back, you scratch mine!”
“If it was drive me to the airport, pick up a gallon of milk for me it would be fine. Y’all have a tendency to want ass though.”
“Oh, shit,” I chuckled. “I… can understand your hesitation when you put it like that,” I admitted. “But you know I’m not on any shit like that with you, right?”
She gave me a deadpan look. “Prove it.”
“How am I supposed to prove that?”
A little flash of mischief crossed her face as she smirked, grabbing my arm with both hands. “Calvin… could you please help me install this chair?” she asked, fluttering her eyelashes at me and all.
Damn, I was easy.
“Yes,” I agreed, grinning. “And I already know how you can return the favor.”
Her eyes narrowed. “How?”
“I install this chair for you… you come to this work party with me.”
“Work? As in… basketball?”
I nodded. “Yeah. You get to dress up, probably meet some celebrities… very nice gift bag,” I explained. “Only catch is that you have to pretend to be my girlfriend.”
She wrinkled her nose. “How nice is the gift bag?”
“Last one had a Moments&Measures watch, a bottle of Kimble Reserve, and a gift card to Nectar. And that’s just the stuff I kept – I gave my sister a bunch of girl shit that was in there.”
Amelia nodded. “How nice of a dress up? Are we talking gala or cocktail?”
“Cocktail.”
“Mmhm. Hm…,” she mused. “But having to pretend to like you… it better be a good ass gift bag.”
I scoffed. “Lie to yourself all you want, Li-Li. I’ll go grab a ladder.”
A few minutes later I was back – and clothed in some shorts and a tee shirt.
Amelia had put on another layer as well, and together we made pretty quick work of getting that hook securely mounted, and then getting the chair itself in place.
“Okay… moment of truth,” I said, stepping back to admire our efforts.
“You sure it’s in there?” Amelia asked, and I chuckled.
“How many times did you fall before I got over here?”
“Why are you so focused on the past?” she countered with a smirk, then moved to take a seat in the chair – gingerly at first, and then sinking in. “It feels secure at least.”
I met her gaze. “Good. Let’s test it.”
Her eyes went wide, hands up, but I’d already given the chair a nice hard push, sending her swinging – and yelling about it.
“Calvin!” she shrilled, and I laughed as I caught the chair, stopping the momentum. “That wasn’t funny!”
“You’re right – it was hilarious,” I countered, grinning still as she glared at me from her newly-installed throne.
“What if I had fallen?”
“Wouldn’t have happened – this thing is in there solid as a rock. You’re welcome, by the way.”
She stopped glaring to roll her eyes. “Thank you, I guess.”
“You guess?”
“Fine – I know,” she amended, a soft smile spreading over her lips as she leaned back, letting the chair settle into a slight sway. “Thank you. I do feel a tiny bit better. This is… a vibe.”
I studied her for a second before I nodded.
That smile of hers was… dangerous.
“Yeah… definitely a vibe.”
That look lingered too long.
Instead of letting it get awkward though, I grabbed the sides of the chair again. Immediately, Amelia put a foot out, planting it against my chest to push away from me. “Stoooop!” she insisted, and I laughed.
“I’m just fucking around. I wasn’t gonna do it.”
“You’re a menace,” she laughed, as I grabbed her foot… and yanked like I was going to pull her out of the chair. “See?!” she screamed as I let her go, clutching the sides of the chair.
“Relaaaax,” I chuckled. “I’m gonna leave you alone. You enjoy your chair.”
“I plan on it – thank you again,” she said, still smiling as I backed away.
That pretty ass smile.
Damn.
“Uh… I’ll text you the details for the party?”
“Yeah, for sure,” she agreed, sinking back into the chair.
At peace.
It was good to see, and I stood there for probably a bit longer than I should, thinking about how easily I would’ve hung a hundred fucking chairs for her, just to see her like this.
And then I got my ass out of there, to get my mind right again.
Training camp in a week.
Mixer in a few days.
… and a fine ass neighbor I could easily get way too wrapped up in right now.