In the middle of a five minute conversation with Nina and Marcello, stacked boxes of baked goods in hand, Marcello’s eyes lit up at the sight of a food truck pulling into the employee lot.
To make matters worse, Nola strolled in, gift bags in hand, filled with goodies paid for by the athletic brand that endorsed her—the rival to my own sponsorship—for the front office.
But because I was a kind, mature, adult woman, I would scream into my pillow later about this, and not in the bathroom for all to hear.
My eyes refocused just in time to see a bright blonde bounding my way.
“Bee!” Farrah crashed into me, and I was thankful I’d been in the gym a little more over break to take the impact.
“Farrah White! The universe can’t keep us apart!” For the last three years, Farrah was able to stay on the roster of her draft team in Las Vegas, but got selected in the expansion draft to Miami. She’d been under utilized in Vegas because of their insanely stacked roster, but had a starting spot in Miami as a shooting guard now.
“I can’t believe we haven’t played together in four years.” Farrah’s bright green eyes felt like they could stare into your soul. I was used to seeing them off-season, when she covered women’s college basketball as an analyst.
“So we’re erasing All-Star weekends?”
“Duh, obviously.”
“You didn’t tell me you’d be here today! Don’t tell me you came just for me?”
“Honestly, I had to see that you and Nola were, like, actually, in the same room together.”
“You’re like the only person here who knows we’ve played together. So at any point feel free to back me up. It’s like everyone keeps forgetting I won a gold medalwithmy nemesis. Pre-nemesis origin story.”
“Brittney…”
“What?!”
“It’s going to take more than a gold medal from ourpre-collegedays to make everyone forget that you guys are—”
“—Formidable opponents who are learning how to play together?” I pitched with hope.
“—literal fire and lighter fluid. And it just depends on who’s who on the day.”
“Well, what if I told you we’re living together?” I braced myself; nine times out of ten, I was the more dramatic friend. The person who had to brace themselves for new information and had the loudest gasp. I didn’t get the live arts bug, but theatrics definitely ran in my blood.
Farrah rapidly blinked her eyes, eyebrows scrunched. Her long, thick hair shifted as her head cocked to the side.
“Did I break you?” I asked when the silence had stretched on too long.
She shook her head like she’d just woken up from a dream, “I’m sorry…did you just say you and Nola arelivingtogether? Like cohabitation? Like U-Hauling?”
“You have to be in love to U-Haul, Farrah…”
She scoffed. “Tell that to my ex-girlfriend. Which we must discuss, by the way, because seeing her every March Madness? Torture. But back to you—are you for real?”
“I think this would be a little too sick and twisted to joke about, honey.”
“Blink twice if you need help.”
I blinked as fast as I humanly could.
“Oh, we must fix this. Even after the expansion draft, every player got their own one-bedroom apartment.” Farrah pulled me away from the practice court and toward the locker rooms and offices.
“No, no. You cannot take this to Tashi.” I begged. “I absolutely am not complaining.”
“But you were just complaining,” Farrah pointed out.
“Okay, yes.” I conceded.
