“Tell me about it.”
“And that was…good?”
“As good as it could go.”
“And yet…” She tilted her head, her thumb swiping back and forth on my hand. “You don’t look like a weight’s been lifted off your shoulders.”
“Because what’s an apology when this isn’t the end? We’re going to play the Violets in forty-seven days.”
“Have you ever played against your mom?”
“Not unless it had to do with her coaching me on my performance.”
“Okay, so we’ll beat your mom.” Brittney declared matter-of-factly.
“You say that like it’s so easy.”
Now shedefinitelylooked confused. “Is it not? You’re afraid of what everyone’s going to say when the season starts. Can we play together? Are we too stacked? Is a team with a former MVPand Olympian what a losing team needs to become a winning team? I can keep going if you want.”
“No, I got it.”
“Right.So, we just prove them wrong.” Our hands tightened around each other’s, my stomach rocking like a boat. “What happened to the cocky Nola? You know I used to want to wrap my hands around your mouth?”
“Yeah, I know. So instead you used to elbow my jaw.” I rolled my eyes.
“Hey, that was always accidental.” She winked, and I saw stars. “I think the league knew not to mic you up. You talk dirty.”
“I like getting under your skin.”
“Or do you like trying to make me blush?”
Oh so we’re going there.
A smile bloomed on my face, the muscles moving into their natural home, the smile I used to get people to love me a little more, give me a free shot at the bar, and charm plenty of pretty girls into my bed.
Do I want Brittney in my bed? Will that get this energy we have to finally die down? Just pent up sexual frustration.
I cleared my throat; tried to regain some type of composure and blurted out, “Are you a hugger?”
Okay so my composure just went out the window.
“Nola Belle Young.” Brittney smiled like the Cheshire Cat.
“Please, not my middle name.” I shook my head.
“I am a middle child, of course I’m a hugger. Do you want to hug? Are you asking for physical touch right now? I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“We’ve literally been holding hands this whole conversation.” I pointed out. Why did she think I’m allergic to people?
“And I know youlikedit, but I didn’t know you could move so fast. I always thought you’d be a slow burner, make ‘em wait, youknow, make girlsbeg for itor whatever you masc lesbians like to gloat about.”
She was baiting me. I knew it, and I still wanted to correct her; still wanted to prove her wrong as if she would even care that she’s wrong anyway. I wanted to touch her. No, I didn’t. That would be stupid, and it wasn’t why I’d come here. She was being a good friend. We should continue to try being good friends.
But I just didn’t want this moment to end.
“You don’t know how fast I can move.” I shook my head, begging for this townhouse to not feel so small and tight. When did it get hot? When did I lose control of the conversation? I was the one who was supposed to be making her hot and bothered. But across from me, Brittney was the picture of unbothered. Her eyes glinted with mischief—her default.
She leveled her gaze at me, her voice low, her words silky. “Actually, I know exactly how fast you can move.”
