It lit a fire under me.
So first, I sent her a manicurist to fix the nails she was upset about.
Next were flowers. The universal symbol for “I fucked up, hope these make you smile when I couldn’t.”
I could’ve handled her cursing me out.
What I got in return was a thousand times worse.
"I’m on a date."
It felt like taking a charge from a power forward barreling downhill toward the basket.
All the air went out of me at once, leaving every part of me bruised.
Being around her the past two weeks has brought me back to life. Seeing her pursue her dreams in the hallway outside, hearing her laughter, brushing against her at the club, all of it reminds me how she lights me up like no one I can remember.
I won’t pretend not to have feelings for her anymore.
But what if it’s too late?
Maybe Nova’s over us, and I’m the one left holding onto something we won’t have again.
After hitting the showers and media, I get dressed in jeans and a sweater. My hair is still wet, and it feels cool in the November air as I step outside.
“Leave the car,” Miles says as the limo comes to pick us up.
“Where we going, Vegas?” Jay demands.
When I shift inside, Brooke is already there.
Plus Nova.
She’s wearing jeans and a cropped white T-shirt that makes me think of all the ways I’d get her dirty.
My heart lifts for the first time all day. A surge of anticipation and adrenaline pumps through me.
She knew I’d be here. So, why is she? Especially after her ”back off, I’m on a date” call last night.
“Hey.” I shift into the seat beside her, my legs extending across the floor.
“Hi.” Nova's tongue darts out to lick her lips. “Thank you for the picture.”
“Sure.”
She chews on her lip, and I want to tug it from between her teeth.
“You had it this entire time,” she says quietly enough only I can hear. “The person who bought it at the auction before anyone could… that was you.”
So, that’s what this is about.
Miles drops onto her other side before I can respond. “I was on fire tonight.”
“You were okay,” Nova teases.
Miles nods toward the door next to Brooke, and she passes him a bottle of water without either of them exchanging a word.
The entire ride over, the car is filled with joking and laughter.
There’s no space for me and Nova to talk, so we don’t.
But she looks edgy, her fingers playing with her hair.
When the car pulls up, we spill out in a line and into the pub.
Some locals are in there, and cheers go up when we arrive. The guys and I make the rounds, slapping high fives and fist bumps with the regulars.
“Looking good, Miles.”
“How’s the knee, Wade?”
“Hell of a steal, Jay.”
I look up too late to see my teammates are already settling into our round booth, Nova first and Miles piling in after her. Brooke’s on her other side. By the time I make it there through the crowd congratulating me, only the outside seat is left.
The waitress is on us immediately, getting our order. I get a Coke, and most of the guys opt for soda too, except Miles, who gets shots.
A couple of women come over and ask if they can join us. One takes the side next to Jay and the other next to me.
After a few drinks, the girl next to Jay rises. “Dance with me?”
He agrees, letting her drag him to the floor.
Another woman comes up, already eyeing me.
She cups her hands around my ear and leans in. “I’ll dance however you want me to. You don’t have to move. You can be a sexy pole.”
I feel Nova’s eyes on us.
I’m about to say no, until Miles stands.
“Come on, beautiful,” he says to Nova. “I need someone to hold me up.”
I expect her to decline, but she’s rising, letting him thread his hand in hers.
Atlas clears out of the far side to let them through. I watch Miles tug Nova toward the dance floor.
“This isn’t happening, is it?”
“Huh?”
I force myself to look at the woman who asked me to dance.
“That’s what I thought.” She smiles. She’s objectively attractive, but I couldn’t care less. “Still gonna tell everyone I’ve ever met that I danced with Clayton Wade, if that’s okay?”
“Knock yourself out.”
I watch Miles and Nova dance, mostly to punish myself.
Maybe she is over me.
I’ve never been one to accept defeat. I’ll go down fighting and bloody first. But I can’t stand the idea of her being collateral damage again. Not when I’ve already hurt her.
I told myself she was better off, that what mattered most to her was going back to the life she left behind.
But she’s here, living her best life inches away, and all I want is to be part of it.
Brooke’s voice cuts in. “Chocolate.”
I glance over to find her at my side. “Huh?”
“First year of college, I went on this diet. I’d never really restricted what I ate before, but I was trying to fit in at my sorority, and that was how a lot of the girls ate. The way you’re looking at her is how I looked at chocolate all semester.”
I exhale hard. “You don’t know shit, Brooke.”
“She talks about you in her sleep.”
My head cranks around.
“The other night, I went into her room, and she was talking about you.”
I turn back to the dance floor, competing feelings raging inside me.
She still thinks about me.
Fuck, she dreams about me.
Mr. Thirty Points loops an arm around Nova’s waist and leans in to whisper at her ear.
Every muscle in my body tightens.
I’m out of my seat and beside them in three steps. My hand closes around her wrist, my grip swallowing up her small arm.
Without a word, I pull her after me.
NOVA
The smell of beer and fried foods permeates the air, but it’s overrun by the scent of his body wash and him as he pushes me up against one of the shelves filled with cardboard boxes.
The walls of the storeroom press in on me. So does Clay’s body, filling my vision.
“You can’t toss me around. I’m not a basketball,” I complain.
“Why’d you come out tonight?” His face is bent so he’s inches from mine, his gaze pinning me.
“To hang out with friends.”
“But you knew I’d be here.”
“I’m not avoiding you for the rest of my time in Denver.”
“Brooke heard you talking about me in your dreams.”
Oh boy.
I already feel a step behind when it comes to this man. Brooke’s help to tip the scales in his favor is overkill.
“I talk a lot in my sleep,” I say defensively. “About all kinds of—”
“I don’t think so, Pink.”
My jaw hangs open.
Tonight, I went to the game because I told myself it would help me sketch the team for my mural. But my eyes kept dragging back to Clay. He was so intentional, deliberate, powerful. Flying back and forth up the court, cutting between defenders, taking everything he wanted.