Chapter 33 Lewis
Can you just sit still?” Amy is fiddling with her splint. “You look like Joey when he needs the bathroom…”
The room is packed. This is it—the moment I’ve been waiting for. Now that the big day has finally rolled around, my knee is bouncing like crazy, and even the cute little stress reliever sitting next to me isn’t helping my nerves. This is all too much.
“It’s draft day, Firebird,” I remind her.
Just two hours to go until the rest of my life.
“Never heard of it,” she drawls. “Unless that’s the thing you’ve been obsessing over for the past few weeks.”
“Years,” Adam corrects.
“Back the hell off, guys. I’m working my way through Prudence’s box-breathing exercises—or was that Hope?”
“Our names were on CBS,” Donovan reminds me. “It’s looking good.”
“You’re gonna get gross armpit stains on your shirt,” warns Carrie.
I can’t stop tapping my foot.
Amy pats me on the shoulder. “Want me to try knocking you out?”
“How would that help?”
She shrugs. “It could help you relax.”
“It could help you relax, you mean.”
She holds up her hands. “You got me.”
“You could come to the bathroom with me and really help me unwind…” I wink at her, and she pulls a face.
Suddenly, the lights dim, and a hush falls over the room.
I puff my cheeks out, my fists clenched between my knees.
As the opening speech drones on, my mind wanders.
Each of the thirty teams will get two players, and I exchange nervous glances with Don beside me.
We’re both in the exact same situation—tonight is the night our lives change forever.
Coach is standing behind us, giving our shoulders a quick squeeze.
“Relax, guys. We worked our asses off to get here—it’s payoff time.”
I shake his hand. I owe the man so much, and I’m going to miss him once I’ve graduated.
My phone buzzes, and I glance down. A good luck message from Mom and Dad.
I shut my eyes. It doesn’t matter that they’re far away right now—I can feel them here, right beside me, and we’re planning a get-together back home in July. I can’t wait to introduce them to Amy.
My throat tightens. New York is up—their turn to name their two recruits. I know Don has his hopes set on these guys, so I’m crossing my fingers for him.
“For the New York Knicks… Donovan Wolinski!”
The crowd erupts, and our tight little group goes nuts. Lane and Adam have jumped to their feet, and even Lois’s eyes are shining.
“The fucking Knicks, man!” I whoop as I launch myself at him. “This is insane!”
He hugs me hard against him, and I’m so happy for him, I could cry. Carrie loops her arms around his neck, taking his face in her hands and whispering in his ear, before kissing him.
We watch as Don strolls up to the stage, tugging off his suit jacket, letting the thundering applause wash over him. Even if I don’t get what I came for tonight, seeing my longtime friend get taken on by New York makes this evening one of the proudest of my life.
“I’ll show you the best spots.” Amy winks at him when he picks his way back to his seat.
“Say no, dude, I’m begging you!” I plead. “Amy’s best spots are terrifying.”
She elbows me just as the next New York recruit is announced.
The draft marches on and on, and I can’t stop yanking on my tie. I feel like I’m choking. Pretty much every team I tried out for has come and gone by this stage, and I can see my options narrowing before my eyes.
“Relax, Conley.” Amy squeezes my leg. “You’ll be right up there with the rest of them.”
She sounds calm—almost threateningly so.
“Why do you make it sound like you blackmailed someone, or something?”
Please tell me she didn’t…
I whip around for a closer look at her, taking her chin between my fingers and tilting her face to mine. I narrow my eyes.
“Did you have something to do with Don going to New York?”
She beams back at me.
“Let’s just say, I know a guy who knows a guy…”
I freeze. I wouldn’t put it past her, but still… She didn’t. Did she?
“Only kidding!” She bursts out laughing. “You’re so cute and gullible when you’re stressed, you know that?”
I give her a gentle shove.
“I’m seriously freaking out.” I eye her. “I’m warning you—me and Meeko are coming for you tonight.”
She plants a kiss on my cheek. “Sounds good to me.”
I pull her in against me, relaxing a little when she rests her head on my shoulder. I’m glad she’s here—I still can’t believe I nearly missed out on this girl. I feel so lucky she decided to forgive me for acting like such a jerk.
With only a handful of teams left to go, the ceremony is drawing to an end, and I can feel my friends’ eyes all over me.
“Guys, come on. I know I look damn good in this suit, but you’re rubbernecking now.”
“The Miami Heat…” A voice comes blaring through the speakers. “Lewis Conley!”
For a couple of seconds, my mind goes completely blank.
“Lewis Conley?” I murmur.
My friends have burst into screams, hands flying down on my shoulder, ruffling my hair.
I blink. “Did he just say Lewis Conley?”
“Lewis Fucking Conley!” Adam yells.
I jump to my feet. “Lewis Conley!”
I did it. I fucking did it!
Coach is running wild as a roar sweeps through the gym, applause raining down over me, and all I can see is my girlfriend, holding out a fist to me now, a smile playing on the corners of her lips.
“Show me some love, Hitman!”
I scoop her up in my arms, lifting her high in the air before covering my mouth with hers. The whistling is deafening. Slowly, I lower her to the ground, and I turn. In a few quick strides, I’m up on the stage, and the realization hits.
I made it to the NBA!
My pulse is pounding as the manager shakes my hand, and I can’t even hear what he’s telling me.
“Lewis Conley.” He said, “Lewis Conley.”
When he hands me the mic, I point to my friends and say the first thing that pops into my head.
“Amy, I love you—and we’re going to Miami, baby!”
I watch as her head falls to her hands, and I smile.
We haven’t discussed what happens after Sycamore Heights—I didn’t want to think too far ahead, in case I ended up disappointed. But now there’s nothing standing in my way, and I need her riding shotgun.
The camera guy pans in on her, and when she lights up the giant screen to my right, I laugh. She’s being broadcast around the world with two middle fingers waving in the air, and the best part is she doesn’t care. That’s my girl!
I weave my way back through the crowd, back to the Campus Drivers and our girlfriends, basking in the glow, feeling like a million bucks.
“That’s gotta be worth a kiss, surely?” I sling an arm around Firebird’s neck.
“Miami, huh?”
“Miami.” I nod, savoring every sweet syllable.
“MIAMI!” I CAN’T STOP SMILING. “Miami, My-Amy. This is a sign, Amy—I’m telling you.”
“Well, that’s got me convinced.”
She slinks out of bed, and I pat the space beside me.
“You get back here!”
She ignores me.
“I liked it better when you were stuck in that cast.” I frown.
“Glad you enjoyed it while it lasted, Conley.”
The splint has gone. The Pontiac is back.
And it looks just as good as its pre-crash days, if I say so myself.
Life is back on track, except this time, it’s shinier than ever—a new and improved version where I get to watch her topless and shimmying into her panties every morning.
Okay, so I got to do that anyway, back before we were a thing—but now that I’m in my pro-girlfriend phase, the sight is all the sweeter.
IT’S BEEN A WEEK SINCE the draft, and I’ve been working on Amy hard, plying her with all the reasons why Florida makes total sense.
I bring it up all the time, making sure I keep my tone light and breezy, but the truth is I’m scared of having a conversation about it—especially as she doesn’t seem to be biting.
Last night, I waited until she fell asleep before hitting the research, desperately trying to come up with something halfway convincing.
I’m learning that when you’re dealing with a Hitman, you need to put the work in.
And I’ve got three Hitmans to tackle—I need to win Raven and Charlotte over, too.
Make that four—Raven gave birth to a baby girl, who has definitely got Hitman vibes already. Thank God I can count on Joey.
“Can you put a top on? I need to focus here.”
She looks at me with interest. “Focus on what?”
“On what I plan on telling you once I manage to drag my eyes away from your boobs.”
She tugs on a tank—no bra. Nice.
I pout at her. “I can see through that, you know…”
“Excuses, excuses, Conley.”
She climbs onto the bed, pulling her knees into her chest, and I roll over onto my side, reaching for the folder I made up yesterday.
I take a deep breath in.
And then I take a step into the void.
I start with the rental ads, before moving on to the Southern Florida University enrollment form I downloaded.
Once I’ve shown her the racetrack brochure, I glance up nervously and realize she’s not looking at the paperwork—her eyes are fixed on me.
A flush creeps over my cheeks. I want this—I know I want it.
I’m surer than I’ve ever been. I need her down there with me.
“I’ve been researching for days,” I explain, my eyes locked on hers. “I only looked at apartments between the campus and the arena, and I even got a dorm brochure, in case you—”
I wave the pages helplessly between us. She’s still just sitting there, staring at me in silence.
“This here is the SFU enrollment pack,” I continue.
Still nothing.
“See, they’ve got a mechanical engineering curriculum…”
Nada.
I’m starting to feel flustered. “I mean, what do you say to taking a look, at least?”
“What time are we meeting the others?” she asks.
“Twelve…” I glance at her. “Amy, are you even listening to me?”
“Yes.”
“You get what I’m trying to say, right?”
“No.” She thinks for a moment. “I’m hearing a lot about Florida, but I don’t remember you officially asking me to move there with you.”
She raises her eyebrows at me.
“Are you serious?” I laugh nervously.
“Don’t forget we need booze for tonight.”
She’s getting a kick out of this, isn’t she?
“Amy Hitman—will you come with me to Miami?”
Saying it aloud like that is making my balls shrivel up.
“Sure!” She beams.
And with that, she jumps off the bed, leaving me hanging there speechless as she wrestles on a bra.
“Any idea where I put my toothbrush?”
“ ‘Sure’?” I repeat.
“There it is!”
She sashays over to the door, but before she can take another step, I’m racing across the room to block her way.
“Just… ‘sure’?” I flail with my arms. “But what about all my research? It took me hours!”
She glances over at the pages strewn across my bed, before strolling over to my desk, fishing for something in her bag. She turns back to me, clutching a wad of paper in her hand.
“I filled it all in already,” she says breezily. “And the research took me twenty minutes—just saying.”
The SFU logo gleams back at me.
“Absolute disgrace, dude!” I snatch the pages off her. “Why didn’t you just say?”
She shrugs, leaving me standing there like a dumbass in the middle of the room as she makes a beeline for the bathroom.
I sprint down the hall and find her standing in front of the sink.
“I’ve been shitting myself for a week now!” I say, shaking the form in her face. “I’ve been freaking out about this—and all this time, you’d already decided?”
“Insane, right?”
“What if I hadn’t asked you to come?”
She waves her toothbrush in the air, thinking for a moment. “I would’ve come anyway.”
Our eyes meet in the mirror, and though I’m so happy I could burst, I like this little game we so often play.
“You’re a maniac, Hitman.”
“And that’s how you like me. Anyway—don’t forget I need you to calm me the fuck down.” She eyes me. “I’d be a hot mess with you gone.”
“You would,” I murmur.
The pages go floating to the ground as I pull her back into my chest, slipping my hands under her tank.
“And you need your little outlet, too,” she says.
I feel her shudder beneath my hands.
There’s no hard edge to how she says it now. Because it’s true—she is my outlet. And one I’m crazy about.
“Speaking of which…” I grind against her, making sure she feels every inch of me. “I could do with blowing off some steam.”
She laughs, bending over to rinse her mouth, and the sight of her like that drives me wild.
“It’s way too cold up here, anyway,” she continues, ignoring my fingers brushing against her waistband. “I need more beach in my life.”
“You done?”
“I could learn to roller blade!”
“Forget about Miami right now…”
“I could work on my tan. Get me a Sunshine State glow-up.”
“Shh.”
I kick the bathroom door shut, and she twists around to face me.
“You want me quiet? Make me.”
My gaze drifts down to her panties. “Time for me and Esposas to have a little quality time.”
“ ‘Handcuffs’?” She shoots me a disgusted look. “ ‘Handcuffs’ is what you’ve decided to call it?”
“I just think it has a nice ring to it.”
She bites her lip. “Maybe I should stick around Sycamore Heights, after all.”
I keep her trapped there between my arms, nudging her thighs apart, pushing her panties to one side.
“Dream on, Hitman. We’re locked in now,” I say as I slip inside her. “Bound together for all eternity—and these handcuffs don’t have keys.”
She whacks me on the forehead with her toothbrush, and I laugh.
“What was that for?”
“The romantic stuff… You relapsed.”
“Good thing I’ve got you to keep me in check.”
I cover her lips with mine, and for a moment, she falls silent.
Just for a moment, though.