Chapter 16
NOVA
Nova: Thank you for dinner. How did you know I wouldn’t have eaten?
Grumpy Baller: Call it a hunch.
The week between Christmas and New Year’s is quieter at the stadium and Clay has been playing two road games, so I take advantage to work on the wall.
He’s started to check in with me if it’s a long day, like he knows even without seeing that I’m perched on the ladder trying to create something worthy of this city, this team.
Tonight, it was nearly seven when I got home and took a bath.
When I got out, the was a message from the concierge to let me know dinner was waiting for me at the door.
The package contained tacos from my favorite Mexican place, plus fresh chips and salsa, as well as a six-pack of Gatorade with a note saying to “stay hydrated.” More than enough food for me and Brooke, who came home soon after.
It was a seriously sweet gesture, especially considering Clay’s first home game in over a week is tonight.
Grumpy Baller: You catch my game?
Nova: You were okay.
Grumpy Baller: "Okay" like you watched it with your hand in between your thighs?
Nova: Gasp.
Nova: I figured you’d want me to wait for you.
Grumpy Baller: Want you waiting in my bed.
Nova: Skip media or I’ll start without you.
Flirting with Clay by text is becoming one of my favorite things.
It’s even better when he’s in Denver and waiting to see him is a matter of hours, not days.
We can’t keep our hands off each other.
But because this is still new and his schedule is beyond demanding, it feels as if there’s still so much we haven’t done.
“UGHHHH!”
The shriek has my head snapping up from where I’m watching TV in the living room.
I’m off the couch the next second, padding down the hall and pushing wide the cracked door.
“Are you dead?” I ask as I scan my roommate’s prone figure. She’s sprawled like a ragdoll, her braids spilling across the duvet and her arms overhead.
“Emotionally,” Brooke pants.
Since rooming together for the past couple of months, we’ve gotten closer. We have our roomie routines, and I love our time together.
Now, Brooke tosses her phone on the bed. “I got this brand partnership and posted it. One of the girls from my sorority DMs me saying, ‘So cute, I wish my brother could get me these kinds of gigs.’”
Her eyes squeeze shut.
I fold my arms. “You know that’s bullshit. You deserve all your success.”
“Obviously.” She chews her lip. “But why do some girls have to tear others down? Like friends aren’t really friends and it’s just a label you slap on people in your social feed through college and at parties.”
From a woman who always seems confident, the admission surprises me.
I cross to her bed and perch on the corner.
“Brooke. You’re kind and funny and thoughtful and smart and the best friend a girl could ask for. I’m lucky to have you, and so’s your brother.”
One eye cracks open. “You mean it?”
I make a decision.
“Come on. Get dressed. We’re going out.”
“But aren’t you meeting Clay after the game?” She sighs, batting her lashes up at me.
“This is more important.”
Her expression brightens. “You want to hang out with me more than your baller boyfriend?”
“Yes, I do.”
I wrap my arms around her shoulders, and a second later, she hugs me back. “Thanks,” she murmurs into my shoulder.
I leave her in her walk-in closet with strict instructions not to come out until she’s wearing something wild and head to my own room to find something.
When I’m flipping through outfits, I hit Clay’s contact and cradle my phone against my shoulder.
“Couldn’t wait?” his low, rumbling voice answers.
“Change of plans tonight. Brooke needs a friend.”
“What happened?” Clay’s concerned, and that makes me fall for him a little harder.
“It’ll be fine, just girl stuff. We’re going to hit a bar and dance and drink and complain about school friends.”
“Tell me the name of the bar. I’ll stop by.”
My hand stills on the hanger of a dress. It would be fun to have him there, especially if he brought some of the guys. But that might not be the best given Brooke's current state of mind.
“I think she wants a simple night out. No Kodiaks.”
When silence comes down the line, I’m worried he took it personally.
“There’ll be a bottle of champagne waiting with her name on it. Plus a car to take you there and back,” he says gruffly.
My lips tug up. “Just a simple night out, huh?” I tease.
“That’s my compromise, Pink. You go out without me, I’m making sure you’re looked after.”
“Thank you.” His gesture makes my chest ache. I tug the dress off the hanger, hold it up in front of me in the mirror. “You’re not mad?”
“No. Text me when you get home.”
My lips curve. “I will.”
I tug my shirt over my head and kick off my leggings, glancing back at the mirror to see the cute lingerie I was planning on wearing for him.
“And in the meantime, I’ll send you a picture to help you make it through.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
CLAY
“Finisher?” I uncork the bottle and take a sniff, grimacing. “How much are we getting paid to promote this?”
“It’s part of the campaign to get you to the all-star game,” my agent says.
I set the product on the conference table. “It’s terrible.”
“Bad enough you’d risk not getting to the all-star game?” Chloe demands.
I sling an arm over the back of the next chair. “I don’t want to hawk shoe polish.”
My agent says, “It’s whisky, not shoe polish. You want anything sexier, it’ll have to come in a paper bag.”
I leave my meeting bottle in hand and swing by the wall where Nova’s working. Since Christmas, we’ve been on the road and I’ve barely seen her.
Today she’s not on the ladder but on her feet, working at the bottom of the wall.
I stop beside her and inspect her work. The mural is more than halfway done. The skyline is crisp and clear, and she’s putting final touches on the starters.
My girl has a talent, that’s for sure.
“Needs more muscle,” I decide.
Nova looks up and beams. “You’re back.”
“I’m back.”
Nova presses up on her toes and throws her arms around my neck—at least as far as they’ll go given our height difference.
I inhale her scent. I missed the hell out of her. I miss her smile, her laugh, her brightness. I feel more whole just being in her presence.
Another couple employees are at the end of the hall, and I wait until they’re barely gone to lift her and swing her around. When I set her back down, my fingers thread into her hair as I drag her mouth up to mine and kiss her thoroughly.
“What’s that?” she asks breathlessly when I pull back and she notices the bottle.
“My ticket to the all-star game.”
“Cute.” She grins, clearly pleased. “Finisher? Most guys don’t have a problem finishing.”
“Uh-huh. I can last longer than you, Pink. Tonight, I’ll prove it to you. Multiple times.”
She bites her lip, reminding me it’s been way too long since I had her alone. I’m a second away from dragging her to the nearest closet.
“What does it mean if you make the all-star team?” she asks.
It’s an earnest question. Sometimes I feel so at ease around her that I forget how new she is to the sport.
“I go to all-star weekend. Play in the big game. See guys from all across the league. Talk shit. Party.”
“So, it’s like a high school sleepover for athletes.”
A laugh rumbles through me. “Sure.” I rub a hand over her head, and she ducks away.
Fuck, this girl is good for my soul. She keeps my ego in check, at least a little bit, and I love seeing the world through her eyes.
I want her to soften my edges while I rough up hers.
“Come with me,” I ask on impulse. “It would mean a lot if you were there.”
Her eyes widen. “But you haven’t gotten in yet.”
“Details. I’ve been an all-star the last three years I was healthy, Pink.”
“Where is it?” she asks.
“LA.”
Her smile fades a degree. “It’s one thing to go to your games, but it’ll raise questions if I show up there in your jersey. The all-star game isn’t a Kodiaks thing—it’s a Clayton Wade thing.”
I set the bottle on the ladder and hook both thumbs in my pockets.
“I don’t want to hide anymore. Not because it’s anyone’s business, but because it feels so good knowing you’re mine, and I hate the thought of pretending that’s not true.”
Her lips part in surprise.
It’s been a long time since I was with someone I felt serious about, and the last time, I got burned.
She’s the best part of my day. I want everyone to know it.
I’ve been thinking about it every day I’ve been on planes and in other teams’ stadiums.
As for Harlan, I’m going to tell him the truth.
He has to understand my relationship with Nova has nothing to do with basketball.
I want the career of my dreams and this woman in my bed and at my side.
Nova’s phone buzzes before she can respond.
“It’s Brooke. She’s been stressed lately about these sorority girls. I better get it in case she needs something.” She reaches for it and clicks Accept while I resist the urge to hurl the thing down the hall so she’s forced to react to me first. “Hey, what’s up?”
Brooke’s garbled voice comes through the phone. Nova’s eyes widen.
She lowers the phone and hits the speaker button. “My wall is on social media.”
I look over her shoulder and watch the video of her work. Judging from how close it is to how the wall looks now, it was taken recently. “When’d you post that?”
“I didn’t.”
“Well, it has a hundred thousand views already.” Brooke’s voice comes through the speaker.
“Why would someone do that?” Nova asks.
“Free publicity,” I supply.
“But this is the only post on their account. It’s not following any others.” Nova clicks a spot on the screen. “I’ve got DMs from all kinds of places.”
“New fans. You don’t have to read ‘em all,” I tell her. “I used to try to, but I wouldn’t have time to practice, and then I’d have a hell of a lot less fans.”
“Not just fans,” Brooke counters. “You should read them, Nova.”
Nova holds up the phone so I can read it as she says, “It’s a gallery in New York inquiring about exhibiting some of my work. This is probably fake, right?” She lifts her face to mine, seeming genuinely perplexed.
I pull out my phone and do a quick search. “Name matches. Their account has a big following.”
“They want to know if I can meet them. In person.”
“Tell them yes,” Brooke instructs. “If they’ll cover your expenses, they’re probably legit.”
Nova types in the message window. Seconds later, someone is typing a response.
“They can send me a ticket to go this weekend,” she says excitedly.
“If you need a travel buddy, I’m there,” Brooke says before clicking off.
Nova looks up at me. “I’ve always wanted to see New York. Should I go?”
I’ve been looking forward to this weekend with her for the last two weeks.
But I’m not gonna crush this for her.
“Yeah,” I say. “Of course you should. You’d love Central Park. No flowers this time of year, but it’s still cool. And there’s skating at Rockefeller Center.”
She frowns, reading my hesitation. “Wait. When do you guys leave for your next road game?”
“Tuesday.”
Her face falls. “Oh.”
I tug her closer. “Go to New York with Brooke. Blow their minds.”