CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Nola
My one versus one against Brittney came sooner than I was mentally prepared for. For the last week, I’d raked around in my head about how I could make an effort with her. I wouldn’t say I was making steps toward friendship, but at minimum, a shared sense of team camaraderie could definitely be accomplished. All week, Brittney had left me juices with varying degrees of menacing messages on them, and just this morning—even though this was the one day we left for the arena at the same time—she left two juices to choose from. One with a,you might losemessage attached, and the other with a,you’re definitely getting your ass kickednote.
I could hear her voice as I read both messages—honestly I’d been hearing her voice all week as she talked all night on the phone and to the television as if the reality show stars could hear her. We were cohabitating in a way I hadn’t done in years. Developing knowledge of each other’s schedules, preferences, and personal lives.
But the smoothie with the more aggressive note set a fire in my stomach I could only stomp out. I liked her cocky optimism. It reminded me of me before my mom’s betrayal.
I nearly wept when I unlocked my car to drive to the arena, the shine a little more dusty than I preferred, but the smell and feel all the same.
By the time I was on the court ready to warm up, Farrah was stretching with Brittney and I went over to join them.
“Hey Nola!” Farrah greeted before Brittney smacked her arm. “Man, that’s your competition, not mine.”
“‘Sup, Farrah. Lee.” I never had a mind to speak much before games, even if this match up just counted as the last hours before Brittney and I had to hang up our on-court rivalry.
“Young.” Brittney stretched her lower back and quads, moving into a pigeon pose.
I cleared my throat before I could stare at her longer as I moved into my own back stretches. “Is it weird I’m getting deja vu?” I asked, my first attempt at making small talk, probably ever.
“Aww, you’re right!” Farrah’s eyes lit up. “Except Bee was going on two versus one and she whooped their asses.”
Brittney just shrugged as she switched her legs, her left leg folding under her while her right leg stretched back. “I had good advice at the time, I guess.”
“And now?” I asked, our eyes connecting even if the both of us should be quiet, locked in, feeling the burn and tension ease in our muscles. Feeling the need to psyche out the other, since this was a competition after all.
I dropped low into a squat to open my pelvis and stretch my hips, the silence drew out long while I waited for Brittney to answer but our eyes stayed glued to each other. This moment felt like when she came to my door last week in nothing but a towel, too impatient and hotheaded to think clearly or put clothes on.
Not that I was complaining.
Even with the chaos of living with three other girls in college, with being surrounded by ten other women in the locker room, I had never felt so transfixed by someone I had to play with her. The way water dropped from her curly hair onto her toned shoulders, a single drop winding down her skin and disappearing beneath her towel. It was a miracle that the towel had stayed on, and I stayed in my room the rest of the night.
“I’m just ready to move on, Nola. I’m ready to leave it on the floor if you are.”
I nodded, coming back to the present and ignoring the way Farrah’s eyes ping ponged between us.
“Then let’s do it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Nola
“Do y’all want to know why I agreed to the heinous idea of signing both of you?” Tashi asked, her hand slotted in between our bodies at the half court line. She would be our ringmaster and referee.
“Because you believe in developing young players before we get too stuck in our ways?” Brittney answered.
Tashi shook her head quietly, “I watched your gold medal game. That tournament y’all did back in Spain. That was seven years ago, and eventhenthere was a fire between you two and Farrah that you guys didn’t realize; a chemistry I haven’t seen in years. But you two specifically? Well, shit, you could get a lot more done together than apart.”
Tashi stepped back, clearing a path for tip off. Brittney and I had never had the pleasure of starting tip off since that role always went to the center positions on our team. It was the first time in a long time—on court beef excluded—where we’re so intimately close to each other. From here, I could see howdark her brown eyes got and how her lips twitched as if she was fighting off a smile. I could see the moment her brain clicked on and she read my body.
“So let’s get to that,” Tashi said then sent the ball up.
Brittney and I crashed together trying to jump the highest. She was able to get the ball with the tips of her fingers, sending it backwards and running toward it before getting it in her hands and meeting me back at half court.
This was the face I was used to seeing. In every game we’ve played against each other, at some point, Brittney took the guard position, standing at the top of the key to watch who has the space to receive the ball. Depending on the night, she might be totally ignoring my presence and I had to result to a little shit talking to rile her up.
Today was a Brittney I hadn’t seen often. Her eyes were solely on me, her lips pressed together as she got ready to make an offensive play. With both of us without help, it all came down to if she was driving to the basket or pulling up for a three.
