I knew he wanted to press me for answers, but I also knew he wouldn’t.
“Tomorrow,” I breathed.
“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night, Jazmyn.”
“Good night.”
I dropped my phone next to me and buried my head into my pillow. Letting out a muffled scream, I tried not to cry. I wanted to talkto Lamar before the internet could get to him. I hated that I was being dragged online and thrust into the center of attention against my will. But more than that, I hated that dating me was creating all this noise and overshadowing his accomplishments. I tried to think of different ways to salvage the situation. But by the end of the workday on Friday, it was apparent that the only logical way forward was for him to say we were just friends.
Technically, that’s what we are anyway.
I’d already told him I wanted to be with him—that hadn’t gone over well. I already told him that social media was shitting on me—and that was unbearably uncomfortable. We’d already talked about how I didn’t like all this attention—and hundreds of thousands of people sharing, commenting, and posting about us was a lot of attention.
I hate this.
The entire situation made me so prickly, I felt sweaty. When I got home, I immediately took a shower. I didn’t know when the car was coming to get me, but I wanted to be ready when it arrived. My body was oiled up and moisturized. My perfume was wafting through the air. All I needed to do was get dressed.
Jazmyn Payne:Hey! What time should I be ready?
Lamar Anderson:I’m pulling up now.
I stared at the phone for a second. “What?”
I had just stepped into my G-string when there was a knock. I pulled on a pastel pink T-shirt dress just to cover my body. My heart thumped in my chest as I headed toward the door. I took a deep breath before I opened it.
Just seeing him created a warmth inside me. “Hi.”
“What’s up, Jazz?” He leaned down and placed the sweetest, softest kiss against my lips. He handed me a gift bag. “It’s good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you, too.” I stepped back, opening the door wider. “Thank you. Come in. I thought you were sending a car.”
Lamar walked in with gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt thatstretched sexily over his chest. His cologne lingered in the air, and I inhaled deeply. The back of him was just as appealing with his strong shoulders, cute butt, and long limbs. He dropped his bag on the couch and then turned back to face me.
He remained standing. “I came straight from practice. I didn’t want to wait to talk.”
I’m not necessarily prepared to talk right this second, I thought nervously. My eyes danced over his body, momentarily distracting me from my nerves. I felt like I hadn’t seen him in weeks, even though it had been only a few days. Just in case the conversation went poorly and it was the last time I was going to see him, I let myself appreciate the sight. From the defined waves on the top of his head to the defined outline of his package in those thin sweatpants, he knew exactly what he was doing.
Touché.
We were several feet apart.
“I, um…” I dragged my gaze from his dick. “You didn’t have to get me anything.” I peeked into the bag and then gasped, taking it out. “This is your jersey! In purple!”
“Yeah. Angel had some jerseys done up, and I wanted you to have one.”
I held up the cropped purple jersey with the number ninety emblazoned on it. Clutching it to my chest, I smiled. “Even though I want one of your jerseys in Monarch green, I love this. Please thank her for me.”
“I will.” His eyes searched my face. “Now talk to me.”
“Okay.” I took a breath. “I don’t like a lot of attention on me.”
“I know. After you said something about social media and the comments, I went back to look at the post that was sent to me, and I saw some ignorant bullshit. But they don’t matter—”
Hearing that he’d seen it made me wince, and I interrupted. “I can’t do it…” My voice cracked, so I let the sentence trail off.
I’ve come too far and healed from that period in my life. I will not let the general public drag me back there.
His thick brows furrowed, and he stepped forward. “What are you trying to say?”
