Chapter 8 #3
Perks of being friends with an NBA player meant we bypassed the lines and went straight to the standing area by the stage. It was prime real estate for the concert, and as soon as I stepped into the arena, the familiar thrill of the Back in the Day Bash washed over me.
The DJ was spinning 90s classics while the crowd eagerly awaited the acts. I could feel the pulse of anticipation in the air, but something was missing.
Kendra.
Her absence was glaring, and for a moment, the joy of the evening dimmed.
“Here,” Leo said, pulling me out of my thoughts.
He handed me a clear plastic cup filled with a bright orange-yellow drink, ice cubes floating on top.
“What is it?” I shouted over the music.
He leaned close, his breath warm against my ear. “Tequila sunrise.”
I couldn’t help but grin. “Why would you give me tequila when you know tequila and I don’t mix?”
“Because,” Leo said, raising his voice to be heard over the music, “you need to loosen up tonight. Get your mind right.” He brought the tequila sunrise closer to me with a knowing smirk. “Take it, toss it back, and let’s get live, Ivy League.”
I clicked my tongue, unable to stop the smile forming on my lips. As much as I hated that nickname when he first started teasing me with it, hearing it now softened my mood.
It didn’t take long for the combination of one tequila sunrise and two shots of tequila to melt away my reservations. Sad thoughts floated to the back of my mind, replaced by a warm buzz and a surge of uninhibited energy.
The arena pulsed with the bass of 90s R&B, and I let the music take over, swinging my hips and losing myself in the moment.
For the first time in what felt like forever, I was truly having fun again.
Leo and I danced like we had at every concert we attended over the years.
When Kendra and Tyrell were with us, they’d always pair off.
On nights like those, Leo was my default dance partner whenever I wasn’t dancing with a stranger.
And he was good—great, even. For someone who towered over me, his rhythm was impressive, and he could always keep up with the beat.
Everything was perfect—until it wasn’t.
As the intermission began, the DJ spun Groove Theory’s “Tell Me,” and it hit me like a freight train.
The song was ours, Kendra’s and mine. We’d sing it together, off-key but full of joy, every time it played. It was a staple of this concert, a moment we always shared. Hearing it now brought those memories rushing back, too powerful to resist.
I closed my eyes, swaying to the beat as tears welled up behind my lids. I mouthed the lyrics, hating the ache in my chest but cherishing the bittersweet memories they brought.
I felt arms wrap around me from behind, the familiar scent of Leo’s cologne reaching me before he spoke.
“Don’t start crying on me now,” he whispered in my ear, pulling me closer.
I let my weight fall into him, turning to bury my face in his chest. His black tee soaked up my tears, likely smudging my makeup, but I didn’t care.
The music thundered around us, drowning out the sound of my quiet sobs as Leo held me steady through the song.
When it ended, I pulled away, wiping at my damp cheeks and trying to collect myself.
“You good now?” Leo asked, crouching slightly so we were eye level.
I nodded and managed a small, “Yeah.”
He studied me for a moment before pointing toward the bar reserved for premium standing area ticket holders. “I’m gonna get you another drink.”
I waved my hand, shaking my head. “I think I’ve had enough.”
A smirk tugged at his lips. “No such thing.”
I laughed despite myself.
The rest of the concert went smoothly—no more tears, just good vibes and even better music. By the end, I felt like a different person, lighter, freer.
When Leo suggested we hit up an after-party at a club, I surprised myself by agreeing.
The event was held at Club Déjà Vu.
Clubs weren’t usually my scene. They were too loud, too crowded, too much. But VIP was a different story.
Up in the private section, the music felt less overwhelming, and the energy was more intimate. With drinks flowing and good music keeping the night alive, I let go even further.
“See? Look at you,” Leo said, his smile wide and his eyes glossy from the liquor. “Already looking better.”
I giggled, shaking my head. “Leo, I’m so drunk right now, I don’t know my up from my down.”
“Perfect,” he replied, grabbing another shot from the table. “And when we’re done here, you get to go home and sleep to your heart’s content. It’s a good night.”
I leaned back in my seat, laughing softly.
“Leo Vanguard,” a voice interrupted.
We turned to see a sharply dressed man approaching our table. His tailored suit screamed money, and his cologne preceded him by a mile.
“I’m Vincenzo Rinaldi, owner of Club Déjà Vu,” the man said, extending a hand to Leo. “Pleasure to finally meet you.”
“Same here,” Leo said, shaking his hand firmly.
“I spotted you as soon as you walked into the club from my office. Couldn't miss you,” Vincenzo said, gesturing toward the club’s main stage. “Would it be too much to ask for you to say a few words on the mic?”
Leo shook his head, pointing to the drinks on the table. “I don’t think I’m in any state to say anything into a mic right now.”
“How about at a price?” Vincenzo countered, flashing a perfect smile. “Five grand. Five words, six max.”
I choked.
Five thousand dollars? U.S. dollars?
“Six grand, six words,” Leo countered, “and I’ll shake your hand.”
“Fifty-five hundred,” Vincenzo said next, “a handshake and your next drinks on me.”
Leo grinned. “Six grand, I’ll shake your hand, I’ll continue to pay for my own drinks, and I’ll even take a photo with you. Final offer.”
“Deal,” Vincenzo said, shaking Leo’s hand again.
Before I knew it, we were whisked off to a private office at the back of the club. Drinks were poured, papers were signed, and a thick envelope exchanged hands.
Minutes later, Leo was on stage, riling up the crowd with a few words that had them roaring with excitement. A photo op with Vincenzo followed before we were back in VIP, laughing about the surreal turn of events.
The liquor in my system had gone from energizing to sedating, and my feet ached from dancing all night in heels. I was ready to call it a night.
Leo called for our car, and within minutes, we were on our way home, the city lights fading behind us.
In the back seat, we were on our way back home to Greene Gardens when I said, “You just went to a club for an after-party but got paid six thousand dollars just to say less than two sentences on a microphone,” I said to Leo in the car. “What the hell?”
He grinned beside me, his dimple making a rare appearance. “What the heaven, actually.”
I laughed, and he joined in, his chuckle low and rich, vibrating in the quiet of the car.
“Does that happen often?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.
He nodded, slinging his head back against the headrest. “All the time. That’s why I love the club.”
I turned to study him for a moment. His Adam’s apple bobbed every time he swallowed, and the motion kept me mesmerized.
“That NBA check can go but so far,” he added, his eyes still closed, his voice lazy with weariness and tequila. “So I gotta… what they say? Supplement the income? My name is hot right now and it’s not gonna be hot forever. So every chance I get, I’m cashing in.”
I don’t know if it was the liquor or life lately, but Leo was looking different to me these days.
He was always handsome—that much was a given.
But I guess I’d never seen him outside of his unserious nature.
Always behaving like life was a game. Tonight, though, at the club, the way he negotiated at the drop of a hat with such ease and confidence… it was magnetic. Attractive.
He turned his head, still resting back, to look at me. “What’s up?”
“Huh?” I stammered, caught off guard.
A small smile tugged at his lips before he licked them, his tongue gliding slowly over his lower lip. “You’re staring.”
“Oh.” I blinked, dragging my eyes away immediately. “Was I?”
“Mm-hmm,” he murmured.
“Sorry.”
“No need to apologize… Ivy League.” His tone was soft, teasing, but laced with something heavier, deeper, that I couldn’t quite name.
I turned my head slowly to look at him again, only to find him wearing a smile unlike any he’d given me before. It wasn’t mischievous or mocking—it was… intimate. Like he saw right through me and could read my thoughts.
Leo was always poking fun at me, centering on how uptight I was—a fact he didn’t know was one of my deepest insecurities. What I wouldn’t give to be able to let loose all the time, to embrace the kind of freedom he lived with daily.
But his smile tonight? It didn’t poke or prod. It didn’t belittle or tease. It felt like it was just for me. Warm. Knowing. And his eyes—they held something I hadn’t seen before.
His gaze fell to my lips, and I instinctively licked them, a nervous habit I couldn’t stop even if I tried.
The sound that escaped him was low, guttural—barely audible—but it shot through me like lightning.
A zing sparked between my thighs, and I shifted in my seat to soothe the sensation.
His eyes followed the movement, trailing from my lips to my neck, down to my chest, where they lingered on the rise and fall of my breasts.
The weight of his gaze was like a touch, hot and possessive.
When his eyes finally lifted to mine again, they smoldered, even in the dim light of the backseat. My breathing hitched, coming faster and heavier, and I couldn’t tear my gaze from his.
What the fuck was happening? Was it the liquor? It had to be the liquor.
Because why else would his attention on me have such a powerful effect?
I shut my eyes and cleared my throat, then turned to face forward, pulling my focus away from him as though it might shield me from the fire he’d ignited.
“Whoa,” I whispered to myself, exhaling all the air in my lungs in one shaky breath.
“Fuck,” Leo muttered beside me, his voice thick, before releasing a deep breath of his own. “We definitely drank way too damn much tonight.”
“Yup,” I replied, my eyes fixed on the driver’s headrest, refusing to look at him again.
The rest of the ride home passed in tense silence. The kind of silence that could shatter with a single wrong word or look.
What the hell was happening? My life felt like it was in free fall. My best friend was gone, I was responsible for her baby, and now Leo had me shifting in my seat to calm the thumping ache he’d caused behind the seat of my panties with nothing more than a look.
When our driver pulled up to the curb in front of the house, I let out a sigh of relief, pushed open my back door and got out of the car desperate for the safety of distance.
Once inside, I wasted no time. I bolted for the stairs before Leo could even close the door.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” I called over my shoulder when I was halfway up.
“Aight,” he said, his voice trailing behind me. “Good night.”
The moment my bedroom door clicked shut, I began peeling off my clothes as I moved toward my bathroom. My skin felt too hot, my pulse too erratic, my thoughts racing too fast.
Sex hadn’t crossed my mind in years. My career had been my sole focus.
That anchor seat at Free-Throw Nation was all I’d cared about.
But now? Now, after that ride home, I was under the cold spray of my shower, gritting my teeth as the frigid water bit into my skin.
Anything to cool the fire raging within me.
Unfortunately, the cold did little to help.
Later, lying naked in my bed, my face buried in my pillow, I gave in. My fingers found my pleasure point between lower lips, and I rubbed myself to the memory of Leo’s smoldering gaze, the sound of his moan, and the way his attention set my body aflame.
When the release finally came, it was shattering, leaving me trembling and breathless. But even as I drifted into sleep, his face stayed with me, haunting my dreams.