Chapter sixteen
Avery
It’sbeentwoweekssince Olive’s last show in New York, which means it’s been two weeks since I’ve seen her—fourteen days since I’ve heard her voice.
Sure, Josie said we were to spend every minute together, but we let that slip with neither of us sticking to our word.
You know what I’ve done during that time? Watched back every fucking video I filmed of her at the concert, as though she were singing directly to me.
I even uploaded one of the videos to my instagram account with the caption ‘Proud.’ Because yeah, I wanted everyone to hear what I got to. But mostly, I wanted to make it look real.
I didn’t tag her in it, though. Everyone knew who was in the video without me needing to name her.
She’s been busy, going from state to state, and the Raptors have won every game we’ve played, leaving us comfortably on top of the ladder.
Plus, I don’t have her number. So, even if I wanted to reach out to her in the last couple of weeks—which I didn’t—I wouldn’t have been able to.
I’m toeing a thin line between not being able to stand her, and wantingso badlyto know everything there is to know.
I don’t even really know why.
I’ll admit, I listened to her interview two weeks ago, and I laughed to myself when she talked about me taking over the basketball team in her hometown.
Like that would ever happen.
I did flinch, however, when she joked about me retiring because it made the idea of it actually happening a real option.
Like, floating the notion around in the air made it seem not so bad.
I always told myself that the game was my life. The old me would’ve done anything to be in the position I’m in right now. The very same position any player would kill to be in.
I’ve tried. God dammit, I’vetriedevery single day for the last ten years, and for the first seven, I loved every minute. The game, the life, all of it. I really did.
After everything with Noelle last year, it hit me pretty quickly that I didn’t belong here anymore. Not inthisworld. Not surrounded by people who are supposed to be my friends but chose to abandon me, people who believed that I did what I did out of pure jealousy because my team didn’t win.
I didn’t bother to correct them. I would rather it be me who gets dragged through the mud than have anybody find out the truth.
Because when it comes to my little sister, I do not hesitate and I don’t regret it.
Not even a little bit.
I allow myself three minutes to sit in the complete silence that my apartment provides me. I head to my bedroom and find my Armani suit that I had fitted last week, hung up and ready to go.
I pull my hooded jumper and t-shirt over my head in one fluid motion, with my sweatpants and boxer briefs not far behind, throwing them into the dirty clothes hamper. Turning on the water, I take a step inside.
By the time I'm clean and doing up the button on my trousers, a knock sounds at my door. Striding across the room, I pull it open only to be met with Olive and her beauty team.
"I tried really hard to get up here unseen, but the paparazzi in New York arevultures." She scrunches up her nose, tilting her head to the side. "Hi."
Her smile is soft, but I don’t get the time to take her in completely before her team is flooding through my front door with racks of clothes behind them, bags and bags of makeup and hair products.
I didn’t think seeing her would hit me this hard.
I should’ve been ready for this feeling in my chest.
Instead, I shove it down.
"Uh, head straight into the kitchen just down the hall." I close the door, but when I turn around, I see Olive waiting directly behind me, her team working in perfected movements while they set up everything they need.
