“Here.” Knox clears his throat, a hint of awkwardness that I don’t understand because I’ve done much worse with women while he was in the car.
“Thanks.” I draw out the ‘s’, and Lydia giggles. I sigh through my nose and slide out of the car to help her out. She’s already waiting for me when I get around to the other side, and I like her independence. Somehow, she’s hotter for knowing what she wants and just doing it. God, I need to chill. All she did was get out of the car by herself. I take one last look at her before I offer my arm, and we get in line for the stadium.
A few of the boys took a car to meet us here, so we see them at the doors with their tickets, and together we slide inside past the crowd, through the VIP section. I can’t tell what Lydia is thinking as she holds my arm, but it seems like she’s never been to a basketball game before— let alone a court-side one. I like the look in her mesmerized eyes, like she’s a kid going to Disneyland for the first time.
We take our seats and watch all the pre-show shenanigans, laughing with one another and pointing things out we find funny. The things we find funny are not what the pre-show intends to be funny, which in our type of humor are the best things to laugh at.
“Okay, so this woman,” she points to the other side of the court to a woman wearing a leopard print leotard and bright pink lips, bigger than any natural lip should be. “She is definitely a side-chick. Like an NBA one.”
“Lydia.” I laugh, but keep a slightly scolding tone.
“I think that’s the coaches' wife.” I narrow my eyes.
“Lakers?”
“No… the other team.”
“Do you even know who they’re playing?” She laughs.
“Honestly—“
“Not super into basketball?”
I turn to look at her smirk, waiting for my rebuttal. “Look, I’m not a super-fan, but I’ve gone to a few games.” I can’t help but look at her lips as they grow into a smile.
“Okay, okay.” She nods unconvincingly and glances at my lips.
“You don’t believe me?” I lean in smoothly.
“No, no… I think all I need is to have you explain the game to me the entire time, and then I’ll feel confident in your knowledge.”
“Wow.” I laugh. “So, you’re actually the one who doesn’t know anything about basketball.”
“Hold on…” she puts a hand up to my chin, and I grab it, holding it between us as we laugh.
“You’re not super into basketball?” I mock teasingly, and she continues to laugh, cheeks growing pinker the more I tease.
“I promise, I do know some things.”
“Some things?” I repeat, my cheeks hurting now from smiling so much.
“Yes, I swear I do! I used to play basketball with my brother and Dad on the court by our apartment when I was younger. I’ve never been to an actual game, though.” She looks down, and I intertwine my fingers with hers, bringing them to my lap with a laugh.
“I’ll be quizzing you throughout the game.”
“And I, you.” She nudges my shoulders as I look away smugly. Fuck. The ability this woman has to make me smile is honestly scary. I don’t think I’ve smiled as much as I smile with her in years. Something about her feels safe, but I know I can never make a home in anyone’s heart. It’s too dangerous, and those nuances continue to be the bane of me. The only thing that truly makes me weak. So, I can’t succumb to them. But I can sure as hell fuck them out of me by fucking Lydia Royce.
I forget myself during the game because Lydia’s hand is on my thigh the entire time. And she keeps leaning in to quiz me, leaving more and more of her perfume on my shoulder that I know I’ll be able to smell long after I’ve dropped her off. A reminder of the reward awaiting me at the end of the week. I quiz her too. She’s sharp and actually knows the game super well; it's a little intimidating. That’s not an easy task— intimidating me. I like the rush of it, like how I feel when I’m with Lydia.
Shit. That’s no good. No feelings. I can’t waste my time with those.I continue to remind myself of this as I check the time. 10:45, and the game’s not quite over. My heart sinks when I know I’m going to have to rush us out of here.Fuck Vincenzo.I send a message to Knox to bring the car around, to which he responds that he already has.
“Hey,” I nudge her gently, and she tilts her head to me, leaving her eyes on the court.
“We have to go.”
“We?” her eyes flutter to mine.
“Yes.”