5. Brooke
5
brOOKE
Jay: Give Hawkins a message: we’re coming for Boston after all-star break
Damon: Sign it with a kiss
Miles: Should the kiss be from me or Clay?
Atlas: Both
Damon: You better check with the girls first
Brooke: Nova and I approve this use of lips
“ I never thought this would end with us on opposite sides,” I say as I fold my arms.
Nova blinks up at me with eyes rimmed with glittery gold liner. “It doesn’t have to be that way.”
In a cream outfit with gold boots, her hair in expert waves for TV, she could be some kind of WAG fairy.
“Oh, I think it does. You see this name?” I call over the murmur of the capacity Vegas crowd, pointing at the back of my jersey. “That’s my loyalty tonight.”
The all-star jerseys are blue for the Western Conference and gold for the East. It’s nearly impossible to get them ahead of the game, but I used my contacts to not only score one but have it altered into a shift dress that shows off my legs.
Underneath, I’m wearing over-the-knee dark-blue suede boots. My hair is smoothed back in a glossy high ponytail.
I arch a brow and inspect my manicure—not Kodiaks’ purple but blue, part of the outfit I’ve been putting together all week.
Nova leans in. “Too bad we’re besties and I know all your secrets, Brooke Ellis.”
I can’t help grinning in response.
Tonight, Miles and Clay are on opposite sides.
Nova, Chloe, Mari, and I are all here to cheer on Miles and Clay. But the battle lines have been redrawn tonight, with players from the same regular season team split up based on the captains’ picks.
“You’d better, because you really don’t want to make her your enemy.” We both turn to see Jay make his way into the seats at the end with Rookie.
Surprise nearly has me dropping my beer. I didn’t figure my brother would come, but maybe he did it out of solidarity with his teammates.
“She holds a grudge. This one time when I was fourteen and she was twelve, she wanted to come to an event with me, and I said no. She was still in that tagalong phase. She snuck out and followed me anyway, made friends with the organizers, and got in on her own. Little sis had a crush on one of the players.”
“That was over in a second. His twin had the most amazing hair, and I needed to ask her how she did it,” I counter.
His lips twitch. Not quite a smile, but I’m secretly pleased to see it anyway.
Jay’s gaze falls to my jersey, but if it bothers him to see me wearing something with Miles’s name on it, he doesn’t comment on it.
Progress , I decide.
“In that case”—Nova holds out a hand to me—“may the best all-star win.”
On the court, the players are announced one at a time. The crowd erupts with each new name. One player after another steps out onto the court to acknowledge the applause and give the cameramen time for a closeup for the millions watching on TV.
I clap for Clay when he rises and waves to the crowd. I’m not a total monster.
But when they say Miles’s name, I scream my lungs out.
He looks fantastic in the all-star uniform as he steps onto the court, his dark hair falling over his face. I told him it was getting long and to cut it before the game, but he said he needed the luck.
Nova hollers as loudly for Miles as she does for her husband.
Miles’s gaze finds mine, and his grin widens.
Damn, he’s hot.
I’ve never been that affected by basketball players, but this one is the exception. Turns out all the banter and teasing for the past few years made for wicked foreplay.
I think back to our conversation before the game.
“What do I get if I win?” Miles asked.
“A massage.”
“With what?” Dark eyebrows wiggled.
I laughed, but before I could relax too much, he came right back at me.
“Tell you what, Princess. We win tonight, I want you on my cock the second we get back to the hotel room. Until you can’t feel anything but me, everywhere. Until you can’t remember what it’s like without me inside you. Until the only name you know is mine.”
“What about my name?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be saying it enough for both of us.”
“That statement he issued is causing a lot of ripples.” Jay’s voice brings me back.
The words issued by Miles’s agent replay in my mind. They’re burned behind my eyes. Since the moment I read them, I’ve been holding my breath.
“I told him to apologize.”
“We both know that was hardly an apology.”
Nova leans over. “You’re supposed to cheer equally for both your teammates,” she says to Jay.
“I’m here, aren’t I? Besides, can’t cheer too loud. Hawkins is on the same team.” Jay straightens in his seat, frowning.
The energy is off the wall for tip-off.
Clay’s starting on one end, Miles on the other.
The atmosphere on the court should be lighter than a real game because they’re playing for charity. But it’s an exhibition of the best basketball talent on the planet and the players who eat, sleep, and breathe competition. The guys on the floor are the gods of basketball, and the crowd has come to worship.
The first couple of plays are each team feeling out themselves and the other side.
Each time the ball goes in and the other team jogs back, there are some jokes and light trash talking on the floor. We can’t hear what’s said from here, but we can witness the exchanges.
Miles gets his first shot attempt and misses. I groan.
A few plays later, the ball finds him in the corner. Another miss.
The coach for the evening sits him on the bench.
It’s not just Miles. The West team is a step slow out of the gate, already behind by six.
“Miles and Hawkins are going down,” Jay observes. “The East is locked in.”
“Care to make a little wager?” I turn toward him, folding my arms.
“How much?” Jay asks.
“Five hundred?”
“That’s a lot for you to lose.”
“I’m not going to lose.” I nod to Miles, doing a fist pump. Let’s go , I mouth.
The next time they put him in, he locks it down. One of his teammates finds him near half court, and he takes it all the way down into the key for a dunk.
I’m out of my seat hollering. He must hear me, because his gaze finds me as he’s running back on defense. I turn to show Miles the back of my jersey.
He flashes a heated grin in my direction.
Miles’s team gets up by halftime.
“If you Venmo me tonight, I might even buy you a drink at the club later,” I inform my brother.
“Can I have one?” Nova asks.
“You’re my friend. You can have two,” I say generously.
At halftime, Rookie and Jay float around the crowd to talk to other players and friends from the league who are watching. Nova and I grab food. On the way back, I find myself in my seat next to Jay.
“Where’s Rookie?” I ask.
“Bathroom. Nova?”
“Same.” I nod.
We’re quiet a minute.
“Popcorn?” He holds it out.
“Only if there are M&Ms in it.”
“Obviously.”
It’s a peace offering. I reach in and pop a few pieces of popcorn and candy into my mouth. The sweet and salty flavors collide on my tongue. It reminds me of summer nights in high school, watching movies with friends or tagging along to my brother’s games.
“I like these nights,” I say. They’re a reminder of what’s fun in the league.
“They don’t change anything. It’s for the fans, the owners, the guys who make money. Next week, we’re back in the gym and playing for the same stakes we’ve been going after all year.”
“That’s what makes this matter more,” I decide.
As the game resumes in the second half, the crowd flows back into their seats. On the far side behind the bench, I catch sight of a man who makes me do a double take. But the moment I think I’ve seen him, he’s gone.
The game resumes, and once again, we’re focused on the court.
By the time the final whistle blows and the confetti descends from the rafters—Miles’s team wins by five, and the crowd goes crazy—I’ve nearly convinced myself it was just my imagination.