“Yeah,” I said, lining up another shot. “That's her, and if you know that, I’d recommend getting off that hashtag and her nuts.”
“Maaaan,” Rico dragged out. “So you bagged her or what? Because the internet is going crazy. Somebody said they saw y’all at an event last night and y’all looked real close.”
“Yeah, Dee, you hit yet? or she for the team?”
I took the shot. The ball went in clean, but I felt irritation spike anyway. No, I was hotter than irritated. I was ready to body someone.
“Nigga you really think I’d tell you about some shit I got going on? I’m a grown ass man, I don’t kiss and tell,” I said.
“Nah, come on,” West said, still laughing. “You can’t gate-keep this one?”
The ball left my hand harder than it needed to. It hit the rim and bounced off.
“Nigga must be deaf. Come near my gate, and I’mma blow your big ass head off,” I said, turning around and locking eyes with him.
His grin faded. “Damn, my bad. I was just—”
“You were just running your mouth. Like always, but be careful running your mouth about some shit pertaining to me,” I said. I walked toward him until he instinctively shifted back. “Because see, I don’t want to get the wrong impression, when that happens, my trigger finger gets to itching. We clear?”
“Crystal,” West said quickly, sliding his phone into his pocket.
Rico still had a half-smile on his face, but he had enough sense to put his phone away, too.
“So it’s like that,” he said.
“Straight like that,” I said.
“Alright then, big dog,” he replied, hands up, surrendering. “I respect it. My fault.”
I wanted to tell him that it was unnecessary; he had no choice but to respect it. Instead, I went back to my spot on the court and picked up the ball. I could feel their eyes on me and hear the low comments as they drifted off to the other side.
“This nigga,” someone muttered.
“Man said ‘my business’ like they already married,” another voice added, followed by low laughter. I blocked them out and took another shot. This one felt good the second it left my hand and slid through the net without touching the rim.
“Be easy, fuck niggas.”
Seven days. All I had to do was make it through seven days without losing my mind, without showing up at her door, without blowing up her phone, without breaking the boundary she set. I was going to do what she had asked, no matter what.
And judging by the way I had just checked my own teammates over a woman who told me she needed space, those seven days were going to test the fuck outta me. I was already irritated. Shit was moving, nothing was landing, and none of it mattered because she didn’t want to see me. I didn’t like this in-between bullshit.
Pops was right. This wasn’t about being right in the moment.
This was about winning in the long run.
And I did not lose.
A few days later...
The holidays were over, but my sour mood wasn’t. My mind had been in a blender since spending yet another Christmas alone. I wasn’t on some woe-is-me shit, and I wasn’t centering my life around dating or a relationship, but the idea of being alone for the holidays every year ruined my mood. Happy couples on social media were one “soft launch” away from pushing me over the edge.
I even tried calling my dad… again. No answer. He’d sunk into that quiet grief that showed up around the holidays every year since my mom passed, and I was tired of feeling like I was the only one who ever looked up first. He didn’t seem to care if he saw his only child, and I refused to be the one always closing the distance. I knew I had to fight back because everything was irritating me, and that wasn’t me.
Tessa’s voice dragged me out of my pity spiral through my car speakers.
“I’m just saying, you don’t need to prove a point, Halo.”
I pulled into Silverrun Galleria, killed the engine, and stared at the dashboard for a second. The only cure for this mood was shopping with asprinkle of recklessness. My crew at the station had gifted me a few Visa gift cards, and they were about to be put to use.
