“I’m not stalking. I don’t want to hurt her or do any weird shit like hanging pictures up in my basement.”
“That’s literally what stalkers say.”
“Shut up. I just want to make sure I don’t come wrong.”
“Vinci,” she sighed, “If Halo is everything you’re saying, you need to come out of the shadows and talk to her like a man. That’s what a woman like her sees and feels.”
“It’s not that simple,” I said. “I’m trying to coast for now.”
“By vanishing?" Omni prompted. “By falling silent and hoping she magically grasps what you mean?”
“You don’t know my firecracker,” I said quietly. “If she picks me, she’s riding. That’s the type of woman she is.”
“And how’s she gonna pick you, if she doesn’t even know it’s you?”
Her words landed right in the spot I’d been trying to ignore. I didn’t answer right away. Anxiety gripped me. Because I knew she was right. But knowing and doing weren’t the same.
“I gotta get my shit together, sis.”
“Yeah, you do, especially if this is real. I want you to be happy. We want you happy.”
“Aight, sis. I need to get a few hours of sleep.”
“Okay, get some rest. Vin, I’m proud of you. This is a big step. Just do it right. Do it the way she deserves. If I were the object of someone’s affection, I’d want to know.”
We said our goodbyes, and I headed up to shower and prepare for bed. Halo walking out her front door in a shirt with my damn face on it showed me her body had decided before her brain could catch up. She wasn’t thinking about me when she put it on. I knew that. It was just a shirt to her. Comfortable. Easy. Nothing special.
But to me, that shit felt like being called as the #1 draft pick, after muthafuckas had counted you out.
I don't get moved easily. Not by women. But seeing her wear something with my name, my number, my face on it hit different—pride mixed with something possessive.
I wanted her. Plain and simple.
???
The next morning, I hit the gym early. I needed somewhere to put all the energy buzzing through me. Malik and Chance slid through not long after, and I appreciated them showing up. We did this often, but we were missing my homeboy and lawyer, Giveon.
We ran the court for an hour straight, shirts drenched, lungs burning. Nobody talked much at first. Men like us used aggression as words.
It was Malik who broke first.
He sat on the baseline, elbows on his knees, breathing heavy. “Sametra told me she needed space right when she found out she was pregnant.”
Chance stopped dribbling. I did too.
“Pregnant?” I asked. Him and Sametra had been doing good. They’d had a bomb ass time at the game I’d invited them to. I was happy for my nigga. “Shit, congratulations.”
“Man, I can’t even get excited shit all fucked up.”
“Why she need space?”
“Her bum ass baby daddy tried to blackmail me with some bullshit photos. Bitch been watching us, trying to collect a check. I wasn’t going for it, so I handled it without involving her.” Malik’s voice got heavier. “I didn’t say shit because I thought I was protecting her. Turns out I wasn’t. Shit, I don’t know.”
That hit me like a body shot.
He looked up at us, eyes tired. “Y’all ever try so hard not to lose something that you lose it anyway?”
Yeah. I had. Too many times.
