7. SARAH
“You’re Sarah Fleur? Paul’s girl?” The older man with salt and pepper hair behind the counter asks with a big, warm smile.
“I…umm, what?” I ask, confused.
“Paul told me he had a ticket on hold for a girl, but he’s never had one put aside for a girl before, so I figured you must be pretty important to him,” he muses, reaching for an envelope.
“Oh. No. I’m just…a friend.”
Baby mama.
Friend.
Either way.
The man hands me my ticket, chuckling. “Well, enjoy the game, Paul’s friend.”
I smile, take the ticket, and head toward the court entrance.
I spent the entire day rehearsing my speech, preparing to give Paul news that would inevitably change his life forever. I had thought the more I repeated the words, “I’m pregnant” and “You’re the father,” the more I would feel ready for what I needed to do. Instead, I feel nauseous and unsure.
I’m overthinking everything.
But I’m prepared to give Paul a choice. He can be a part of our baby’s life or not. It’s up to him. Either way, I know what I want, and if I need to do it alone, then so be it.
As I walk through the hall and into the arena, my mouth falls open in shock. This place is enormous and vastly impressive. I marvel at everything. The lights. The crowd. The atmosphere, which is buzzing with excitement. No wonder why so many people flock here for home games.
Even if, like Paul had mentioned, this isn’t a real game. It still feels like one, though, making me wonder how insane a real game must be.
“Do you need help finding your seat, Miss?” A petite older woman with reddish-brown hair looks up at me as I look down at her.
“Actually, yeah.” I flip over my ticket, revealing my seat number.
“Ah, you’re in the friends and family section. Follow me,” she instructs, turning around and leading us in the right direction.
I follow close behind her, walking on the edge of the court. The teams aren’t out yet, but the game should be starting soon.
“Here you are.” She points to a black leather cushioned seat in the front row directly opposite the home team’s bench. “Enjoy the game.”
“Thank you,” I say as I sit, and she turns, making her way to help the next lost-looking soul.
Wow. This is amazing.
A couple of people walk by me, and my eyes immediately zero in on the last name on their jersey.
Weston.
I laugh, tucking in the backside of my jersey beneath my black leather jacket. When I put it on at home, it draped to my knees, but I was adamant about making it work. It was the first gift I had received in years and well, it means a lot to me. So, with the help of some safety pins and a rubber band, I made it appear like a perfect fit…as long as you don’t look at the back of it. Hence, the leather jacket.
Two guys take their seats beside me, fisting a drink in each hand.
“Can you believe they made him co-captain? I think this will be his best year yet!” one of them says.
“Have you seen his stats? Paul’s anticipated to be the number-one draft pick next summer,” the other responds before guzzling his drink.
Seems to me that Paul’s better than just “okay” at basketball like he had told me he was.
The one closest to me stands, removing his jacket, and I spot the name Weston out of the corner of my eye.
Hmm. Another fan.
I guess I didn’t realize how popular he is.
A group of girls walk by me, appearing more ready to walk a runway show than attend a basketball game.
“Can you believe he signed my shirt for me? God, he’s even cuter in person.” The blonde girl flicks her hair over her shoulder, displaying a signature for her friend to see.
“I still can’t believe you ran into Paul. Lucky bitch,” the friend murmurs.
“I’d definitely do him,” the third girl says, causing them all to laugh.
My teeth grind together as I hold back my tongue from saying something I’ll regret. Paul and I aren’t even together. I have no reason to feel jealous.
And I’m definitely not jealous.
But as I spot another Weston jersey in my periphery, I wonder…
Turning my body, I face the rest of the fans in the stands, spotting jersey after jersey with the last name Weston on them.
Holy shit.
“You think he’ll break his dad’s record for most wins?” the guy beside me asks his friend, piquing my interest. The nosy part of me gets the better of me, so I saddle up closer to the man.
“Who knows? He has a good chance. Maybe someday he’ll even—”
Suddenly, the lights dim drastically as a spotlight illuminates the floor, and a deep bass reverberates throughout the arena. Music starts playing, and an announcer begins rattling off players on the opposing team who come out one after the other.
More boos than cheers are heard for them, exposing more hometown fans tonight.
“And let’s hear it for Linrey University!”
The home team starts jogging out onto the court, and the whole place erupts in a victorious roar, going absolutely feral. The energy in the place is palpable, to say the least.
“Give it up for our first co-captain, Paul Weston!”
Paul strides out looking…well, fuck me; he looks like sex on a stick. His uniform molds perfectly to his sculpted chest and thick thigh muscles. He walks toward the center, appearing serious and focused, but so mouthwatering delicious, just like that first night we met. And just like that first night, his eyes catch on me, eliciting the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen on his face.
I smile back and then melt like butter when he winks at me.
“And for your second co-captain, Greyson Black!”
My smile immediately falls as Greyson walks out on the court, appearing smug and cocky as he pounds his chest and yells at the crowd, riling everyone up even more. A shiver runs through me as I cross my arms over my chest and sit back, trying not to stick out like a sore thumb to this man. But unfortunately, as he gets closer to Paul, his eyes move in my direction, landing right on me.
I feel like the canary, which is about to be eaten alive by the cat.
Greyson appears like a giant fucking Siberian tiger, eyeing me like I’m tonight’s dinner, making my skin crawl and a flash of sweat form on the back of my neck.
I look away, pretending to be distracted by something on my phone, scrolling aimlessly.
Thankfully, it doesn’t take long for the rest of the team to be brought out and for the game to start.
Throughout the night, my eyes remain glued to Paul as he dribbles down the court, owning the game. I may not know his position or any of the rules, but I know with confidence that Paul is the best player on his team.
The evidence that he’ll be playing in the NBA next year is right in front of my eyes. It’s like watching art as he moves across the floor with the ball in his fingers. It’s absolutely breathtaking.
God, he looks so happy out there in his element.
And it makes me feel overjoyed to know that he’ll be living his life, doing something that gives him that much satisfaction…
Guilt hits me like a ton of damn bricks.
Maybe telling Paul I’m pregnant isn’t a good idea…
I don’t want to be the reason he doesn’t follow his dream.
Don’t go down that road, Sarah. You have nothing to feel guilty about. It takes two to tango. Besides, you’re giving him a choice.
I internally shake my head, gripping the edge of my seat. I know. I know.
It doesn’t take long for me to notice that when Paul is on the court playing, Greyson isn’t, and vice versa. And as much as l love watching Paul play, I prefer when he’s on the bench because that means Greyson isn’t staring at me like he has been every time he’s been benched. It has me considering leaving early, but because of where I’m sitting, Paul would notice if I left, and I don’t want to be rude, so I ride out the inevitable glares from Greyson, keeping my focus solely on Paul.
Right before halftime, the cheerleaders stand by my section, preparing to perform their routine.
“Have you seen Paul tonight?”
My ears perk up at the mention of his name, and I glance slightly to my side to see a petite little blonde girl with way too much glitter on her body talking to a brunette with boobs that put mine to shame.
And I’m pretty proud of my perky C’s.
“How could I miss him? That man is delicious. I just want to lick him from head to toe,” the brunette declares.
“God, you’re bad. Have you slept with him yet? I wonder what he’s packing under those shorts.” The blonde girl tilts her head as though she’s envisioning Paul’s cock, and I’m this close to getting up and poking her eyes out.
“Not yet. But I’m sure it will be any day now.” The brunette flips her hair and raises her skirt, which is already showing too much of her ass. “That man can slam dunk in me anytime he wants.”
“Oh my God. You’re so bad.”
They both cackle like drunk hyenas, sending my blood pressure into overdrive as my hands tighten into fists on my lap.
Who does this little whore think—
No. He’s not mine. Why am I getting territorial all of a sudden? I don’t do that.
As halftime begins, the players march to their locker rooms while the cheerleaders run out to the center of the court with their short skirts and pom poms, performing some upbeat, scandalous dance. After watching them for what feels like an eternity, the buzzer sounds, and the players walk out from their locker rooms as the cheerleaders return to the sidelines. When I look over at the bench, Paul stops in his tracks and winks at me before sitting lax on the bench with his legs parted, squirting water in his mouth.
Fuck me.
The sight alone makes me tighten my thighs together, anticipation building between my legs.
It should be a crime to look that good in basketball shorts.
Maybe tonight we’ll have a repeat of our first night together…
“Did you see that? He winked at you!” the blonde girl shrieks with excitement, jumping up and down with her friend before heading to their prospective places.
Oh, please.
The second half goes by just as fast, with Greyson’s beady eyes on me while my eyes remain on Paul. I’m counting down the seconds when the buzzer finally sounds, and we win by twelve points.
Standing awkwardly to the side, I watch everyone around me jump up and down, celebrating as the team congregates in a congratulatory huddle.
Zipping my jacket, I take a few steps away from my seat when a hand grips my elbow.
My eyes whip to my side to find Paul towering over me.
“You came.” God, why did those have to be his two words to me? I bite my lower lip as my eyes rake over him. His chest heaves, sweat glistening all over his body. How his eyes narrow in on me, or more accurately, on the jersey I’m wearing, makes my head dizzy. His fingers push back the opening of my jacket, revealing more of the jersey. “Fuck,” he murmurs softly, shaking his head.
He releases my arm, and I tuck a loose piece of hair behind my ear, feeling…nervous. Why the fuck is my heart beating so fast? “You were amazing out there,” I confess.
“You think?” I assume he must be joking, but he’s looking at me as though he’s really wondering if I thought he played well.
“Yeah. I’ve never seen anything like that before. It was incredible. The game. The crowd. The energy in here.” I shake my head, laughing. “Clearly, I don’t get out much, but I’m really glad you asked me to come…here. Come here.”
Fucking hell, get your mind out of the damn gutter, Sarah!
He shyly smiles as though knowing what I’m thinking and runs his hand across his forehead, wiping away the sweat. “Sorry, I’m so gross.”
I shrug one shoulder. “I think it’s kind of sexy.”
“You know—”
“Paul! Coach wants everyone in the locker room!” someone behind Paul yells.
He sighs. “I have to talk to the team, but it shouldn’t be long. Then I’ll just take a quick shower, and we can grab dinner if you still want to?”
I smile. “I’d like that.”
“Okay. Great. So—”
“Paul!”
“I’m coming!” Paul shouts over his shoulder, shaking his head. “I’ll meet you outside the locker room as soon as I’m done.” He steps toward his teammates but then pivots back for me, leans down, and presses a quick kiss to my cheek before turning and jogging to the locker room.
A blush spreads over my face. And as I notice the two cheerleaders from earlier staring at me with mouths agape, I flip my hair over my shoulder and make my way off the court, feeling like a goddamn queen.
I walk out to the locker room area and wait in the hall, leaning against the wall. Player after player exits the room, but not Paul. After twenty minutes, I’m tempted to text Paul asking to reschedule because my stomach is starting to eat itself, but I remind myself that the conversation I’ve rehearsed repeatedly can’t wait any longer.
It’s happening tonight.
Suddenly, the door swings open. Looking up, smiling, I expect to see Paul. Instead, it’s the last person I’d ever want to see.
Greyson.
“Well, what a pleasant surprise,” he surmises, approaching me.
“Don’t come near me,” I warn as I take an ample step away from him.
“Relax. There are cameras here. Wouldn’t risk doing anything to get kicked off the team.” An evil smirk appears. “You’re well aware how cameras can change a person’s life, aren’t you, Sarah?”
“Fuck you,” I lash out.
Fear grips me in place as he approaches, leaving no room between us. He leans down, ghosting his lips over my ear, my whole body shivering. “Is that what you want? For me to fuck you again?” His fingers dance across the top of my jeans, plaguing me with terror. “You took me so well that night. Like the good little slut you are. Sometimes, I just watch it on repeat, listening to your sweet moans.”
My stomach churns. “G-get away from me.” I place my hands on his chest, trying to shove him away, but it’s futile.
He steps back, glaring at me with anger in his eyes. “I saw the way you were looking at Paul all night. Disgusting.”
“You mean while you sat on the bench, and he played better than you ever will?” I counter, signing my own death certificate.
His nostrils flare as his eyes narrow down on me. Silence fills the space between us until a sinister grin spreads over his face, and he says the words I’ve feared for so long.
“I know how I plan on using it now.”
Terror suffocates me.
No. No. No.
He nods. “You’re going to stay the fuck away from Paul.”
“Excuse me?” I blurt out, taken aback by his request.
“You’re done with him. And if I find out that you two have anything to do with each other, your little five minutes of fame will be released for the entire world to see.”
I open my mouth to speak, but he stops me.
“Oh, and with a simple hack, I’ll make it appear like Paul released it in a jealous rage. Ruining any chance of a career in the NBA. Heck, it’ll probably even ruin his life.” His eyes turn cold, fury dancing across his irises. “You wouldn’t want to be responsible for doing that to him, right?”
My equilibrium vanishes as everything around me spins. He’s backed me into an ominous dark corner, one I will never be able to crawl out of, no matter how hard I claw and bite my way to the surface.
I shake my head, trembling. “You…you can’t do that.”
“I think you’ll find that I can.” He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly.
But I need to talk to Paul.
I need to tell him I’m pregnant.
“But you don’t understand—”
“Listen, I don’t care what’s going on between the two of you. I really don’t. But Paul took something from me, so now I’m taking something from him. Just teaching him a little lesson.” He pats me on the top of the head like an obedient puppy. “It’s not personal. You just got caught in the crosshairs.”
He turns and exits the building, leaving me on shaking legs with tears streaming down both cheeks.
I don’t think. I just run. I run as fast as I can from the building to my car, and as I unlock the door, I feel my phone vibrate.
Paul
Hey, where are you?
I hit delete and throw my phone onto the passenger seat. My fingers tremble as I turn the key in the ignition and press my foot on the gas. I need to get the fuck out of here. Tears blur my vision as I finally reach my parking spot near my apartment and shut off my car, resting my head against the side window.
What the hell am I going to do?