“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Letting the world know you are my heart. You showing out tonight with the boots and tight ass jeans. I will step off this court and beat some dude’s ass,” he said.
I rolled my eyes, amused by his comment.
“Give me my good luck kiss,” he said and moved closer.
I studied his face, pecking his lips twice before he returned to the court. We’re officially a month strong, but Marquise said it’s three for him. By the second quarter, both Jhae’s and my social media page were on fire. The video of us kissing had gone viral within minutes. I tried ignoring the messages, deleting and blocking immediately.
“If I get another, ‘I’m coming to you as a woman’message,” I told Jhae.
She tried to suppress her laughter but failed miserably, unable to lend me her eyes. I toggled over to social media when I shouldn’t have.
She fat. . . diet bitch
He gave this up for this wannabe industry chick
I mean it’s whatever
Plus size. Bitch grow up, gross.
Jhae’s hand landed on top of my phone. “No, don’t you fall into the comparison trap. They want your spot and will say whatever to get it. He picked you,” Jhae said.
I mouthed thank you and tucked the phone in my bag. Malcolm passed Marquise the ball midair, and he slammed, shaking the backboard. When he landed, our eyes met, and we pounded our chest in unison. His energy transferred to me, leaving me unable to sit down. Malcolm and Marquise were unstoppable, dominating the paint and the three-point line.
Leaving the arena, we were surrounded by cameras. The constant flashing blurred my eyesight. I held on to Marquise as we followed behind security.
“Marquise, is she Weirdo?”
“Marquise, women are uploading videos and text messages.”
“BrittanyShaw-Jefferies312 uploaded a video saying you cheated on her with the mystery woman.”
The security guy pushed away a reporter for us to enter the car. My heart raced as we landed on the leather seats. Marquise snuggled me into his chest.
“It will die down, baby. Our relationship is new to the world,” he said.
Chapter Thirteen
Half Court
Marquise
Messages, videos, and hate toward my woman had overwhelmed me. Social media, I dare say, has elevated to a new level of disrespect. I attempted to call Mom, but my phone wouldn’t stop blowing up with phone calls. Numbers with various area codes were calling back-to-back. Damn, I was a real hoe in these streets.
“Baby, let me use your phone,” I asked Erin.
She unzipped her purse, handing me her phone. I lifted her chin for a kiss and temperature checked her mood.
“You removed the lock code from your phone?” I asked, and she chuckled as an answer. I texted Mom before I called her phone to identify myself.
“Mom.”
“I’m already on social media. The team is sending cease and desist letters as we speak,” Mom said.
“Thank you, but that’s not why I’m calling. I need you to change my phone number.”
I pulled Erin into me more as she rested her head on my chest.
