Chapter Thirteen #2
The hands that were once on my shoulder were now holding my hand. Like friends do. Like we did once a long time ago. “Come on, bathroom’s this way.”
This was the nicest we’d been to each other since the U19 tournament, the most words we’d said to each other since I got a tech and ejected because of her in the national championship.
Our feet scurried across the tiled floor and into a single-use stall. I went for the trash can in the corner first because I refused to get on my knees, in front of Nola, in a public restroom mind you. Gross.
My curly hair hung in my face, the longest it’d been since I refused to cut it during the season. The ends tickled my mouth as I dry heaved but nothing came out.
And then suddenly my hair was out of my face. A warm presence hovered behind me which only made my heart speed up faster and then I think I saw spots in my eyes because my life had changed all of five minutes ago and Nola Young out of all people was here to console me.
“I don’t think you have anything in you, Lee.”
“Maybe not.”
“It’s the adrenaline.” She remained behind me, close to me, touching me.
“Definitely the adrenaline,” I repeated because yes. We were both riding a once in a lifetime high, something we’ve been working for since we were kids. My hair slid back into view as Nola’s hands moved to rub circles on my back. My hands shook, tears in my eyes. I felt like a mess.
“I am too, but I think I just hide it better.”
Oh, I didn’t realize I said that out loud.
“Okay, I’m good.” I stood up and felt Nola retreat.
I shifted to the mirror and saw that I was still normal looking.
And yet, my eyes connected with my rival’s in the mirror.
I turned away from the sink, cool porcelain sending chills down my thighs.
The goosebumps on full display as I stood three inches taller than Nola in heels.
“Thanks,” I whispered.
She shrugged, because she was indifferent about everything. “Tonight’s our only truce, Lee.”
“Unless we play on the Olympics together.” I offered, remembering our dream.
“Of course we’ll play together.” She stated, as if the world must bend to her will. As if everything she said had to come true. Maybe it did. “I can’t seem to shake you off.” She said a little more seriously.
“Stop being nice to me, I’m not used to it.” I joked because I could not, for one second, continue to be serious.
Nola looked at the watch on her wrist, “Well get used to it; we’ve got three more hours of this.”
I didn’t know what to do with my body, so I crossed my legs and leaned further back on the sink. I watched Nola’s eyes track the movement, her gaze stuck on my calves and my thighs. Her head tilted when she stopped to stare at my core.
And now I was suddenly warm everywhere.
I absolutely under no circumstances could have these feelings about Nola.
Yes she was hot, and her collarbone looked so kissable, and her body was so warm, and her face, when we were not in opposing uniforms, was reserved but kind.
But I needed to remember what we were like when we were opposing each other.
We were ruthless, ambitious and hungry. We talked shit to get under each other’s skin, and I was ashamed to admit she could always get there faster with me.
I elbowed her ribs and sides one too many times, put extra force into my hips when I boxed her out, always felt an insurmountable amount of fury when we’re facing each other for the tip-off and she grabbed the ball first.
We were fire and fire. The only question was who could burn brighter?
I bit the inside of my cheek, which Nola of course saw, because this felt like a face-off neither of us would back down from. The air in the bathroom was tight, and I was pretty sure I was back to not breathing.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” she whispered.
“That depends.” I was too chickenshit to be honest. Fuck, I hadn’t even been honest with myself or my family.
I knew I liked girls—that it had only ever been girls.
The guys I kissed were for show, my teammates at my table should know, I’ve hooked up with two of them multiple times.
In the name of experimenting, of course.
But if I was being real, I’d wanted to kiss Nola since the tournament. Four years of hitting myself over the head about my apprehension. Four years of channeling that apprehension into drive when I was on the court against her and everything drifted away.
My God, adrenaline was making me think crazy things.
Nola brought her hand to her jaw as if contemplating the exact same thought I was having. Her thumb trailed her chin as she bit her lip, eyes glued to mine, the action making me so unsteady in my heels. I couldn’t be the bigger person anymore.
“Fuck it.” We both managed to say at the same time, dropping our new jerseys.
And then we crashed into each other.
In a grip for power, Nola’s left hand found the back of my neck, but since I was the taller one tonight, my right hand perfectly bent her neck up to meet my lips.
Both of our lips were full, giving us plenty of landscape to explore each other.
Nola bit my bottom lip, sucking hard, until I was pulling back to go in for a full kiss again.
I had thought about a moment like this for years and she had no idea.
I left Spain painfully aware I could be into girls, I just didn’t know if that was…
real. Nola kissed like she knew what she was doing.
Leaving every atom in my body on fire, heating me from the inside out, from the bottom of my feet to the scalp on my head.
This moment was better than any dream I’ve had of her, anytime my fingers had typed out asking for her number before deleting it.
Her kisses felt like liquid gold, her body felt like it could mold perfectly to mine.
Her right hand cupped my ass, easy access given I’d made the brave decision to not wear shorts under my short dress and, I slipped my hand up her fitted jacket to feel her chiseled abs.
Neither of us spoke, the only sound was our heavy panting, shoes scuffing on tile as we raced to see who could make the other moan first. Of course this was still a competition—even in lust we were still fighting for power.
And I didn’t want to lose.
With my height advantage, I slipped my knee in between Nola’s legs, and there went that moan I was looking for. The pressure I gave her was too good for her to swallow down. In response, her hand left my ass to wrap around my neck, the pressure so tight and blinding a wave of air rushed out of me.
Nola’s mouth moved from my mouth to my earlobe. “You’re pretty when your mouth’s shut,” she whispered, her dirty talk sending a shiver down my spine that spread throughout my body. Of course she couldn’t just let me dominate.
She sucked and flicked my diamond-studded earlobe as she continued to grind against my knee. I was three seconds from slipping my hand up her sports bra, bralette—shit ,maybe no bra—when there was a pounding at the door.
“Brittney? Nola? Are you alright?” At the reminder that we were still in public and very much missing, we broke apart, back to our original positions across the bathroom as if anyone could see us.
“Uh, yeah. Thought I had to puke, but we’re in the clear!” I shouted, breathless.
“Oh, good! We’re about to get started with the top ten group shots, so just make your way back over when you’re ready!”
“Will do!” Nola and I both confirmed, my eyes going wide at her involvement.
“What? They know I’m in here!”
“Fuck,” I whispered and turned around to gauge my appearance. My lipgloss was gone, and I had the Asian glow—thank you, Mother—even though I hadn’t had a sip of alcohol.
Is that what Nola does to me?
We smoothed out our clothes in silence, and Nola dug in her pocket for lip gloss. “Here.” She offered, and I silently took it.
“So…” she started when I handed the tube back. Our eyes met and that damn heat zipped through me again.
“This didn’t happen.” I forced out.
“N-no, right.” Nola stammered.
“I—” I took a breath. “I’m not out…or clear on what I am.” I shrugged. “It’s just better if we don’t bring this up ever again.” The words were heavy leaving my mouth. I couldn’t bear to look at her, embarrassed for her to see how hard it was for me to pull away; to stay away.
Liar, liar, pants on fire.
“Noted.”
“Cool.”
We left the bathroom. My body burned with Nola’s possessive touch.
I was so close to reaching out for her again just to cement that this moment did happen.
The feeling didn’t last long as we were guided to a photographer, a backdrop, and the eight other draftees in our class.
They were a combination of girls I was familiar with from high school, college, and tournaments.
Farrah stood with the group, her wide smile tilting at the sight of me and Nola walking together.
I looked away to avoid the question that I knew was at the tip of her tongue.
I totally didn’t realize I wasn’t holding my jersey until Nola passed mine to me. Her eyes looking at the production assistants who were giving commands. I tried to offer a smile when our fingers glided across each other’s, but she was focused on the camera.
I wasn’t sure why I felt so disappointed by that.