I should know, I’ve seen enough of them in the foster care system and in the fame circles I’ve run in from time to time.
Colleen tosses her phone down to the end of the bed, some of her hair floating over the shoulder I’m massaging. I push it back over, and she sighs in frustration and contentment at the issue at hand and my hands on her.
“And people want to know why I never stop working. Stop pushing, stop grinding myself to the breaking point. He made me like this. And now he’s trying to undermine me, yet again. I hate to be that cliché, but I’ve never once in my life heard the words ‘I’m proud of you’ from either of my parents.”
Her admission sends a pang of sorrow through my gut. I might not have heard those words from parents, but I’ve definitely heard them from Bryant. Or my coaches. Or my agent. Or any number of people throughout my life.
“I’ll say it now. Because I’m so fucking proud of you. You’re the hardest working person I’ve ever seen, and that’s coming from someone who trains with elite athletes every day.”
She sighs, melting back a little into me. We might both be naked in my dimly-lit bedroom, but this is more of an intimate position than a sexual one. This is where our relationship has transformed into something more than lust and a sneaky, naughty type of hookup. What she and I have is the real deal; a relationship that includes tenants of companionship. This is the kind of conversation and support that healthy, normal relationships are built on.
“It’s easy to hear that and acknowledge it on a surface level. My cousins have been saying it my entire life. But it’s different, this deep-seated inadequacy my parents planted within me. My mother left when I was eight. My father was the only parent I knew. By her silence and abandonment, and his constant demand to be more or to be better when I was killing myself already … that doesn’t just go away. I can believe in myself as much as I want, I can hear it from others, even ones who are as important to me as you are, and it still gets erased the minute he opens his mouth. It’s just hard to get past that much conditioning, you know?”
Honestly, I kind of don’t. There is something to be said about having parents that treat you the way Colleen’s did versus having no parents at all. In some ways, this woman is even more messed up by the damage her parents did to her than I am by growing up in the foster care system. While I didn’t receive the love and compassion a child should, Colleen was reminded almost every day that nothing she ever did was good enough. Good enough to gain attention, love, or even interest from the two people who put her on this earth. At least I had coaches who congratulated my progress, friends who built up my self-esteem in a positive way.
Being trapped in a life with Jimmy Callahan as your sole source of feedback … fuck, that’s like a circle of hell within itself. I only interacted with the guy on a surface level, and that was brutal. Being his daughter must be like having your head continually squished under the heel of his boot.
Gently, I push her chin up and around, so that her eyes connect with me over her shoulder.
“I’m in awe of you on a daily basis. I’m serious, Colleen. Your work ethic, the sacrifices you’ve made, the sweat and passion you put into this team … it’s more than enough. You’re more than enough. It’s why I love you.”
Those big brown eyes blink, registering the words I’ve just said. “You love me?”
I wasn’t been expecting to tell her tonight, or even this soon. We still haven’t had a real conversation about what happens next, though we both know things are serious between us. I just kind of blurted it out, because she deserves to know how much room she takes up in my heart. She deserves for someone to tell her every day how worthy and cherished she is.
“So much. I’m in love with you, stupidly so. I’ve never felt this way about another person, Colleen. And it’s both a twisted decision by the universe, since things for us will never be simple, but I wouldn’t take easy if it meant I didn’t get you.”
“I choose difficult. For you, I’d choose it every time.” Colleen swings around to straddle me, rubbing herself on my quickly hardening cock as our lips lock in a slow, passionate embrace.
And when she sinks down onto me a few moments later, it’s with a breathed, “I love you.”
The world melts away, and it is only us.
30
Colleen
Two days after Hayes and I exchange those three huge words, the Pistons clinch the division series and move onto the league championships.
I’m in my office, on the phone with our head PR rep, giving my statements on the win for media coverage that will be blasted everywhere tonight and tomorrow, when Hayes slides through my doorway and shuts the door. I hold up a finger, signaling for him to wait, but good golly he’s way too hot not to soak up with my full gaze.
He’s got on suit pants and a button down, but over his crisp navy shirt is a white T-shirt that reads “2020 Division Champions” with a Pistons logo square in the middle. It’s tradition to have them printed up beforehand, which I know is a waste if a team loses, but I’m glad Hayes gets to don one now.
I’m freaking out of my mind that the whole team gets to wear one, considering where we started this season. It was a long shot that we’d even come together as a team, much less make the playoffs or move onto the league championships. It’s a testament to how hard the players have worked, how well the coaches have coped, and I can pat myself on the back and take a tiny bit of credit for holding the ship together. Not that I’d ever say anything like that to a reporter or the PR rep I just hung up with.
“I’m so proud of you!” I squeal like a school girl, hopping over to him once I’m off the phone.
As a general manager, but more as a girlfriend, I’m so happy Hayes and the team won. He played like the champion he is tonight, and we’re onto the next round. All in all, this is a pretty perfect night. And it’s capped off by being one of the nights we’re allowing ourselves to spend at my house together. Hayes will sneak over long after the celebratory drinks and debauchery with the team, but I’ll wait up in giddy anticipation. He’s always raring to go after a victory.
No one is up here, but someone could venture this way soon. It feels too euphoric not to kiss him though, so I wrap my arms around Hayes’ neck. His hands come to my hips, and the last thing I see before my eyes flutter closed into the kiss is the cocky smirk he wears.
Our tongues tangle in a tantric, deep dance. He grinds himself against me, and I feel the bulge begin to grow in his suit pants. He smells like the showers, like Dove soap and the manly-scented lotion he keeps in his locker, and a little of the champagne that I’m sure is soaking through the carpets down there right now.
I could lose myself in him, right here, but I’m far too needy and it’s far too risky. The park is still crawling with fans, players, coaches, and media, and we’re playing a dangerous game. Still, he loves me and I love him and it feels so right to be able to kiss him in celebration right now.
“What the fuck?”
Hayes and I whirl around, with sheer panic coating my throat and stomach instantly. I could bend over and get sick all over Hayes’ dress shoes right now, until I glimpse who just caught us mid lip-lock.