Chapter 16
AURORA
“I should start a podcast.”
“No, you literally shouldn’t actually.”
“Why not? Everybody else has one.”
“That’s exactly why you shouldn’t.”
“They’re having fun without me though,” Sierra pouted as we settled on the fluffy, perfectly loungeable couch in her media room, where the big screen was. We’d usurped the room from Kevion, who had passed out after one of his intense playoff practices anyway. So the TV was still on WAWG Sports for now.
In just a moment, once we located the remote, we were going to switch channels, to watch the premiere of Tatum’s interview with Arnez and Arizona.
Which… I was a little nervous about.
He said they’d asked about me, but wouldn’t tell me exactly how he answered, only that “it was the answer that would get him in the least amount of trouble”.
Which, for me, didn’t inspire a ton of confidence that he hadn’t said anything crazy.
“What would you even talk about on the podcast?” I asked Sierra, trying to distract from my own thoughts by indulging hers, albeit ridiculous.
“Nothing. Anything. Everything. Just chaos and fun,” she mused, wearing a wistful smile.
“Oh my god, you’re serious, aren’t you?”
The way her nose wrinkled, but no actual answer came, was the biggest tell.
“Sierra!”
“Whaaaat?”
“Friend, people are weird enough about you as it is. You’re going to give them fuel?! I can hear it now… I didn’t even know she talked. Why can’t she just be pretty and rich, we have to listen to her too?”
“Rori, bye. You know damn well it’s going to be meaner than that.”
“I do, but I can’t bear to think about people being mean to you. I’m barely containing my rage right now.”
“Fucking fool,” Sierra giggled. “Seriously though, I’m not worried about those bitches. One of the perks of being rich and pretty is getting to do frivolous shit. I’m waist deep in philanthropy already, I want to do something vapid.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine. You have my support. I’ll be your first guest.”
“You don’t wanna be my first guest.”
“Why not?”
“I’ma make you talk about Tatum. And that dick.”
I busted out laughing at the ridiculous way she delivered that. Obviously she was joking, but there really was plenty to talk about.
Plenty of Tatum, and plenty of Tatum’s dick.
I’d been shamelessly indulging in both, as often as I could. I’d even been up to Connecticut a few times in the two weeks since returning from Wildwood. In a direct contradiction of what we were supposed to be doing, free agenting or whatever, we were actually getting more and more deeply involved.
Or maybe it was just me who was lowkey obsessed. A sentiment I shared with Sierra, now that she’d brought him up.
I’d been waiting for her to bring him up.
A bit of self-imposed censoring, since I felt like he was all I talked about. Sierra insisted that wasn’t the case, but the man was so heavy on my mind that it didn’t feel like a healthy ratio.
It felt like I was doing exactly what I’d been afraid of.
“And if you are?” Sierra asked, triumphantly raising the remote she’d been digging around in the cushions for. “Tatum is a good dude.”
“We thought Monty was a good dude.”
“And we weren’t wrong. Monty changed. Bit of CTE, maybe?”
I gasped. “That is not funny.”
“Bitch ain’t nobody joking!” she shot back, with a laugh that contradicted that. “Like, for real. I’ve wondered. He changed.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “And I honestly think it was just that, change. It happens. People grow up. And apart.”
“Sure. But character is character. And growing up and apart shouldn’t make you betray someone’s trust, break their heart, disregard their feelings, unless you have a character issue. Or CTE.”
“Sierra!”
“Just you wait.”
“On what?”
“The autopsy.”
“You’re not seeing heaven, you know that?”
“What’d I do?” she laughed, shaking her head. “Anyway, back to niggas named Tatum, who actually matter… you’re bugging. You know you wanna ride off in the sunset on horseback with that man.”
“That’s exactly the problem!” I laughed.
“You’re just a lover girl at heart, Rori. You can’t help it.”
“But I need to help it. I don’t need to be head over heels for anybody, I need to be finding myself, healing, dating, seeing what else is out there.”
“But that’s not you. It’s never been you.”
“Oh, but it needs to be. I insist on it. Like... we made a whole agreement,” I told her. “Me and him, we said we weren’t going to make this more than it should be. We were vibing. What would it look like for me to be going back on that?”
“It would look honest, bitch,” she countered. “You have it literally so bad for this man.”
I fake gasped. “Why would you say that?! Based on what exactly?”
“Based on you lighting up when you talk about him. And based on him delivering consistently good dick. Based on him making you happy as fuck. Based on you getting along with his family. I could give a million reasons, Rori.”
“And I could give a million counterarguments.”
“And it would be a million lies,” she shrugged, then continued, “And how about we just don’t do that? You are going to accept what it is. And nobody is saying that you’ve got to run the man to the altar. But it’s okay—more than okay—to be happy with the place you’re in and happy being in that place with the person you’re in it with.”
“You’re talking in circles, babe.”
“And I’ll talk in a million more until you get the damn point, girl,” Sierra laughed. “Are you picking up what I’m putting down?” she asked.
I sighed. “I mean, yeah, I guess. I just... I don’t want to end up with my feelings hurt because I was trying to make things something they’re not. Because I wasn’t smart. I’ve already done not smart,” I laughed. “I’ve got to protect my heart this time.”
“I absolutely agree with you protecting your heart. I’m just saying, are you protecting it from what is actually in front of you? Or what the worst-case scenario might be?”
With that, she had a point that I couldn’t truly argue, even as badly as I wanted to.
Tatum hadn’t given me any indication of the kind of stuff that had been happening with Monty.
So, when it came down to it… I really was just, as the old folks said, borrowing trouble.
Sierra switched the channel over to where the interview was coming on, and we cracked open our wine to settle in and watch. Even seeing him on screen set off butterflies in my stomach.
Yet another sign I was in far too deep, as far as I was concerned.
He just looked so damn good though, in his white linen to match the summery vibe of the show. We were tuned in, listening and laughing as he talked about team shenanigans, growing up on the ranch, college stories—a random assortment of things leading up to what I’d been most anxious about: them asking about me.
My chest clenched when they opened the section asking about Monty in such a blatant manner, but Tatum was able to successfully deflect the topic in a way that made his stance clear without saying anything that would get his hand tapped by his manager.
Not tapped too hard, that is.
He did almost slip up, but he recovered well, again fielding questions—embarrassing questions—about our relationship that made me blush and hide my face.
Then there was a comment that made my head pop straight up.
“She’s definitely the homie, no question there.”
I looked at Sierra, who had already paused the TV, and she looked at me.
“They boxed him into that,” she said. “He was just trying to get them off his back, get them to stop asking about it, you know?”
“Yeah. I’m sure that’s all it is,” I agreed.
Even though internally, there was a siren going off in my head with a horn that sounded suspiciously like “told you so, told you so, told you so” over and over again.
“Rori…” Sierra said, and I shrugged.
“What?”
“I can already see the overthinking.”
“I’m not overthinking,” I denied.
“Liar.”
Sierra hit play on the TV, and we kept watching while I told myself I was simply overthinking it.
They kept up with that line of questioning, and then there was a mention of a wedding, and in damn near slow motion, he said the thing.
“Me and Rori are just vibing. That’s it, that’s all.”
Now, in his defense, “just vibing” was absolutely what we said we were doing. It was the consistent characterization we’d given what was going on between us to the point of running it into the ground.
And yet, when I heard it come out of his mouth, it sounded so... minimizing.
Me and Rori are just vibing. That’s it, that’s all.
Ouch.
I looked at Sierra, and she looked at me.
“I’ll see if Kev has any teammates.”
I didn’t take Sierra up on her offer to stay overnight.
I needed to be alone with my thoughts.
And I needed to be a big girl about handling my feelings, specifically with not allowing myself to devolve into some sort of unnecessary sadness.
There was nothing to be sad about.
All Tatum had done was reinforce what we had already established.
We were just vibing.
That was it.
That was all.
What was there to be sad about?
Clearly though, he wasn’t pleased either with the way the interview had come across, because he had been blowing me up since it aired, and I hadn’t been answering.
Not to punish him, but to gather myself.
But when he sent a text saying, Hey, we’re not doing this again, are we? that was when I understood that I was not going to be able to successfully put the conversation off.
So when my phone lit up with another call from him, this time I answered.
“You’re mad at me,” he said as soon as we were connected on the call, framing it as a matter-of-fact statement instead of a question.
“No,” I said, not bothering to camouflage my annoyance over the assumption. “Why would I be mad?”
“Because maybe you feel like I’ve minimized our relationship.”
Damn.
Down to the exact word, really?
“No,” I lied.
But only because my logical self knew the truth of that statement.
He wasn’t minimizing.
It just felt like he was.
“You want to tell me why you’re dodging my calls, ignoring my texts?”
I sucked my teeth. “This is my phone that I pay for. I’ll press whatever buttons I want to press, when I want to press them, on this phone.”
“Oh. But you’re not mad?”
“I’m not mad,” I shot back. “Look, what do you want, Tatum?” I asked, and he blew out a sigh.
“Rori, listen to me. I was not trying to minimize or make light of this thing between us. I just didn’t feel like anybody else needed to really be in our business like that. And I may have been clumsy in communicating it.”
“I disagree,” I said. “That you were clumsy, that is. I think you communicated your feelings just fine, Tatum. And I’m not mad at you. I’m frustrated that me trying to process my feelings is being seen as being mad, and that shit is going to make me mad.”
“Okay. My bad. Maybe I did make an assumption there, but you’re definitely giving mad energy. I’m just trying to get ahead of that so that whatever is happening in your head, whatever feelings you’re processing, are based on how I actually feel. Not the nosy interviewer version.”
“Understood,” I told him. “Was that all?”
“See?”
“See what?” I groaned.
“Your ass is mad.”
“I’m not mad. Will you stop telling me I’m mad?”
“Will you stop giving mad vibes?”
“Tatum, I don’t have time for this. I’m tired. I need sleep,” I told him.
“Cool, I’ll let you go,” he replied. “Get your sleep, and I’ll be out that way tomorrow so we can talk in person.”
“Okay… if you’re coming to Blackwood, I guess that’s fine since I don’t own the city, but you should know that I already have plans tomorrow night.”
“Oh, what’s up? You doing dinner with Sierra or something?”
“No.”
“Shannon? Hollis?”
“No.”
“Your parents and Amina?”
“No.”
On the other end of the line, Tatum groaned. “Okay, what are the plans then?”
“Uh, if you insist on knowing… I have a date.”
For a long moment, there was silence.
“A date? Rori, cut the bullshit.”
I sucked my teeth. “No bullshit. I have a date.”
“With who?”
“Not your business.”
“Ohhh, okay,” he chuckled. “So this is what we’re doing?”
“What do you mean, is this what we’re doing?” I asked. “Tatum, you literally just said it yourself for the whole world to hear. I’m the homie. We’re just vibing. That’s it and that’s all.”
“Okay, here we go. So you’re finally admitting that you’re mad?”
“I’m not mad. I’m just… on my free agent shit like you advised, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I haven’t signed any contracts, so I’m doing the healthy thing and speaking to other teams.”
He let out a huff. “So you interested in a contract now?”
“I don’t even fully know what the fuck this analogy means, so sure, I guess,” I answered, flustered.
“Noted,” he said.
“Good,” I countered.
Was it though?
“You have a good time on your date.”
“I’m sure I will.”
“Man, you know what? Good night, Rori.”
“Good night.”
With that, I hung up the phone.
Heart racing, even though I wasn’t sure why.
Bothered, but I wasn’t sure why.
What I was sure of, was that this exact achy feeling, this stress and drama, was exactly what I did not need in my life.
And it was better for it to happen now than when I was even further in my state of delusion about where I stood with Tatum.