Chapter 1 #2
We all get back in position for the next play. This time, Avery has a knowing look in her eye as we face each other.
“Going to make it three for three, if that’s okay with you?”
“You like trash talking, Ms. Parker?” A wide grin is spread across my face.
“Just telling you what’s about to happen.”
And yes, that is exactly what happens, despite Chris trying to help.
I hate losing, but watching her glide through the paint, dancing the ball in her hands, gracefully elevating toward the basket—I’m in awe.
There’s nothing like being in the presence of the best of the best, getting to experience their talent firsthand.
“Fuck, you’re good,” I say to her.
She gives me a smile in return, just a small one, but it’s my first personal Avery Parker smile.
I want more.
“I was actually a huge fan of your dad’s in middle school,” I share.
Just like that the smile is gone. “Oh yeah?” Her tone is flat.
“Yeah…” I don’t know if I should continue, based on her reaction. “Posters and everything.”
“Hmmm,” is all she says.
The next play starts then, so we don’t have time to continue talking.
To no one’s surprise, the ball whips over to Avery, but once Chris makes his move to help cover her, she passes it to Reggie, who scores for their team.
“Nice assist,” I say, trying to recover our relaxed rapport.
But she only nods, and there’s no light in her eyes when they pass over me.
Shit, I guess her dad is not a good topic. I wonder why. Maybe she doesn’t want to live in his shadow? Something I can relate to.
“Sorry if I shouldn’t have mentioned that stuff about your dad,” I say softly. “I’ve got a complicated relationship with my brother too. And my parents for that matter.”
She looks at me squarely. “It’s fine. Let’s just play ball.”
My apology seems to have registered though, because a little of that shine returns to her eyes.
She never loosens back up completely, but we’re teasing each other again by the end of the session.
Well, since she scores almost thirty versus my eight, more like her poking at me while I try to process how great she is.
“I was a higher pick in our draft than you were in yours,” she says to me after draining her third three-point shot.
“Oh man, a dagger to the heart.” I clutch my chest and fake being hurt. “Way to put me in my place, Ms. Parker.”
A little laugh slips out of her mouth at my antics.
In the meantime, while Reggie, Mikhail, and a couple of others make contributions, the younger guys don’t quite drop their obvious shock that Avery and I are here. They largely stare at us except when the ball comes to them and they’re forced to play.
It’s something I’m pretty used to, and I suspect she is too, being in the spotlight for both her own and her family’s accomplishments.
I try to block it out and keep Avery contained.
A losing proposition. She’s too good.
“Damn, you’re incredible,” I say to her as we drain our water bottles after the session ends. “My first time playing with a WNBA player, and I can say it didn’t disappoint.”
“I doubt you’re the kind of person who gets disappointed often,” she says wryly.
“What do you mean by that?”
She arches a brow. “Come on, superstar football player? How often do people not give you what you want?”
Huh. I wonder where this is coming from. Her tone is light, so maybe she’s just teasing again. “It’s not really like that.”
She shrugs.
Let’s see if I can get this conversation going in a more positive direction.
“So do you know anyone here in Orlando? I mean, other than your teammates?”
She shakes her head. “No, but it’s not a big deal. I’ve known Sarah Hartbright a while, so she’s been inviting me out.” Sarah’s the star forward on the Surge, and happens to be good friends with my sister Grace.
“Oh, that’s great. I’ve met her and her boyfriend Malcolm a few times, and they’re fun.”
“Yeah, she’s awesome.” Avery’s face warms up. “She went to UConn like I did and talked to me a lot when I was there, even though she’d already graduated.”
“Like a mentor?”
“Yes, and she really gets me. It’s nice.”
My own first impression being that Avery is hard to read, I suspect her connection with Sarah is rare.
“That’s cool you landed on the same pro team. Are you nervous to start training camp tomorrow?”
Her face shifts to a determined expression. “No way. I’m ready.”
There’s that confidence again.
I turn to reach for a second water from my bag, and when I stand back up, I see her eyes roving over the back of my legs and ass.
Damn, did she just check me out?
Maybe not so hard to read after all.
Except when her eyes reconnect with mine, she seems totally unbothered that I might have caught her looking. And I still haven’t figured out what she meant earlier about always getting what I want, or whatever.
Ignoring my confusion, I keep it simple and smile. “I feel the same way about getting started, once we get my contract signed.”
She studies me for a beat before gathering her stuff to make her way out of the gym. “Good luck with that. I’m sure we’ll see each other around.”
A flash of discomfort hits me as I absorb the fact that she’s leaving.
I want more Avery Parker.
I’m honestly not surprised by the thought.
Since the age of fifteen, my football accomplishments have drawn plenty of attention. Including from star-struck girls, and now women.
Except, I prefer to work for it. The harder, the better.
And one thing I feel confident about is that Avery isn’t easy to impress.
Not to mention how fucking gorgeous she is.
“Hey, wait a sec.”
She pauses, her eyes scanning back up to mine, and then I go for it.
“Is there any chance you’d want to get coffee or something like that sometime?”
Not my most articulate hang-out request ever, but whatever. Got the job done.
Surprise marks her face briefly, before it clears back to an even expression.
“Sorry to disappoint you, Rook—but I’m going to have to say no.”
Her words are flippant, but her tone is teasing, not sharp. Not mean.
I take that as a positive. I’m not giving up.
“Well, how about your number? Can I get that at least?”
Now she looks impatient with my persistence.
“Really, I need to go. And not to be blunt or assume too much,” she adds before starting to walk away, “but I never date athletes.”
Huh.
“Never?”
Peeking back over her shoulder as she nears the gym door, she leaves with one last word.
“Never.”