“Oh good, I’m not the only one.”
Anticipation thrums through my veins. “Want to get out of here?”
“Yes, please.”
I crook my elbow, and she slides her arm through.
“Treat her like the womanyou want to wife up.”
That’s exactly what I intend to do.
30
Val
Is it bad to smile before a date even begins? Because my lips refuse to stay in a straight line. From the moment Jabari stepped into the waiting room where all the girlfriends and wives were stashed, my heart has been fluttering on repeat.
It doesn’t help that he looks so attractive. His tailored black suit hints at the muscles underneath. The red, white, and blue tie has the Warriors symbol, and the little detail has me thinking back to the game.
Occasionally my gaze would find Jabari sitting in up in the box seats. Sometimes he sat silently and other times he talked to the others in the area. Through it all, he looked devastatingly handsome, and my inner teenage girl is in full swoon knowing we’re on a date.
As the driver takes us to an unknown destination, I allow the tumult of my emotions to go free. Anticipation wells in my heart. We’re on a date. Why does this feel so decadent?
Who cares. Take everything in.
I stareat Jabari’s profile.“Where are we going?”
“Don’t you want it to be a surprise?” A smirk tugs at his full lips.
“Hmm.” Do I? I’m not good at being surprised, but mostly because no one has ever surprised me in a good way. “Maybe?”
A deep chuckle falls, sounding like a delicious rumble. “You’ll like this surprise. Promise.”
“And if I don’t?” I ask, curiosity streaming through me.
“Then I’ll make it up to you any way you like.”
Where’s a fanwhen you need one?My heart drops to my feet, ready to wave a white flag of surrender. To the flirting. To the romance to come. To giving my heart to Jabari Hall.
But diving headfirst isn’t my MO, so I pick up my heart and remind it to behave. I need to remain firmly in reality and not the rush of what could be. Experiencing the hope of a good date is possible without losing my cool, right? There’s balance in there somewhere—not exactly surewhere, but I’m aiming for it.
“Did you enjoy the game?” he asks.
“I did. It always amazes me at how fast-paced hockey is. It’s no wonder all of you are so athletic.”
“There’s a skating rink that lets me come in early and skate before public access.”
“Really? That’s wonderful.” I hate how his coach barred him from skating, even when alone. “That reminds me. Fran sent me a video of a vision-impaired hockey commentator. The story is a little old but fascinating nonetheless.”
“Yeah?”
I nod, then give myself an inward slap. Did he even see that movement? “Yes. Want me to send it to you?”
“Please. Before my mom left, she told me my old hockey club has an outreach for children who are vision impaired. They teach them how to skate and play hockey.”
What a fantastic opportunity. I can only imagine the joy on those kids’ faces. “Is that something you’re interested in?”
He shrugs. “I’m thinking of all avenues. I don’t want to feel useless, and I’m thankful the Warriors are giving me a chance to participate in some way, but, yeah, I want more.” His voice trails off.
