Chapter Twenty
Bee
In an effort to limit my interactions and put my best face forward, I woke up three hours earlier than necessary.
I did my best makeup beat, picked out an outfit that leaned more toward my occasional tomboy aesthetic, and wore my curly hair down with two barrettes that I thought screamed, I am friendly and approachable, you’ll love me!
I searched all night on local blogs to find the best bakery to bring for the staff and front office, which was a blessedly short walk from my building.
Somehow, without communicating all of that to my evil roommate, she had naturally one-upped me.
In the middle of a five minute conversation with Nina and Marcello, stacked boxes of baked goods in hand, Marcello’s eyes lit up at the sight of a food truck pulling into the employee lot.
To make matters worse, Nola strolled in, gift bags in hand, filled with goodies paid for by the athletic brand that endorsed her—the rival to my own sponsorship—for the front office.
But because I was a kind, mature, adult woman, I would scream into my pillow later about this, and not in the bathroom for all to hear.
My eyes refocused just in time to see a bright blonde bounding my way.
“Bee!” Farrah crashed into me, and I was thankful I’d been in the gym a little more over break to take the impact.
“Farrah White! The universe can’t keep us apart!
” For the last three years, Farrah was able to stay on the roster of her draft team in Las Vegas, but got selected in the expansion draft to Miami.
She’d been under utilized in Vegas because of their insanely stacked roster, but had a starting spot in Miami as a shooting guard now.
“I can’t believe we haven’t played together in four years.” Farrah’s bright green eyes felt like they could stare into your soul. I was used to seeing them off-season, when she covered women’s college basketball as an analyst.
“So we’re erasing All-Star weekends?”
“Duh, obviously.”
“You didn’t tell me you’d be here today! Don’t tell me you came just for me?”
“Honestly, I had to see that you and Nola were, like, actually, in the same room together.”
“You’re like the only person here who knows we’ve played together. So at any point feel free to back me up. It’s like everyone keeps forgetting I won a gold medal with my nemesis. Pre-nemesis origin story.”
“Brittney…”
“What?!”
“It’s going to take more than a gold medal from our pre-college days to make everyone forget that you guys are—”
“—Formidable opponents who are learning how to play together?” I pitched with hope.
“—literal fire and lighter fluid. And it just depends on who’s who on the day.”
“Well, what if I told you we’re living together?” I braced myself; nine times out of ten, I was the more dramatic friend. The person who had to brace themselves for new information and had the loudest gasp. I didn’t get the live arts bug, but theatrics definitely ran in my blood.
Farrah rapidly blinked her eyes, eyebrows scrunched. Her long, thick hair shifted as her head cocked to the side.
“Did I break you?” I asked when the silence had stretched on too long.
She shook her head like she’d just woken up from a dream, “I’m sorry…did you just say you and Nola are living together? Like cohabitation? Like U-Hauling?”
“You have to be in love to U-Haul, Farrah…”
She scoffed. “Tell that to my ex-girlfriend. Which we must discuss, by the way, because seeing her every March Madness? Torture. But back to you—are you for real?”
“I think this would be a little too sick and twisted to joke about, honey.”
“Blink twice if you need help.”
I blinked as fast as I humanly could.
“Oh, we must fix this. Even after the expansion draft, every player got their own one-bedroom apartment.” Farrah pulled me away from the practice court and toward the locker rooms and offices.
“No, no. You cannot take this to Tashi.” I begged. “I absolutely am not complaining.”
“But you were just complaining,” Farrah pointed out.
“Okay, yes.” I conceded.
Farrah turned to me, confused, knowing I was no stranger to confrontation. “But why not?”
“I’m trying this thing where I go with the flow. You know, no whiney middle child baby shit.”
“Does this have to do with the rumors?” she inquired.
“My reformed behavior has absolutely nothing to do with baseless rumors,” I deadpanned.
“I think a newly-expanded league team avoiding murder is better than coming off as a whiney child.” Farrah shifted her body, her shoulders tense and her face serious.
After sophomore year, Farrah wore the title as captain of our college team, the only person capable of leading without fear, and keeping my growing outbursts within reason.
If there was anyone who could keep me in check back then, remind me to bring it back down—especially if Nola was involved—it was Farrah.
I set my hands on my best friend’s shoulders, trying to convey how absolutely serious I was taking everything. How, for once, I didn’t want my emotions to lead my logic. I refused to be the reason I was on the hunt for a new team next year.
“I am doing everything in my absolute power to be mature, wise, logical even. I think this is Rashida and Allison’s doing, and between that and Tashi scaring me shitless, I am a new person! I want to stay in Miami long term, so if I can fuck this up as little as possible, that’d be great.”
“I’m choosing to believe you, Bee.” Farrah held out her hand for a dap up then a pinky promise. Our hands did not separate until we kissed our fists. “Plus, selfishly, I want to play with you ’til we retire.”
“Now let’s go do goddamn a scrimmage.”