As of the last four years, basketball has been my entire existence and I have the privilege to play in the NBA. I’m grateful for my opportunities, yes, but I’ve never disliked my job more than I do right now.
My profession took me away from home and put me on an airplane just twelve hours after my Indy came all over my leg. Twelve hours after I told her the next time she needs to come, I want her to ask for my help.
It’s been three days and we haven’t spoken since.
I’m not sure if I freaked her out or got her thinking, but we’ve been flirting in our own way for weeks. She’s blatantly told me she’s attracted to me multiple times, so I’m not going to lie, I was half expecting her to knock on my door and ask for another orgasm right then.
I’ve been celibate for more than two years, but I’ve imagined how her legs would mold around my waist or how it’d feel to slide against her sweat-soaked skin since the day she walked into my apartment, so there’s no way in hell I was going to let someone else get the job without throwing my hat in the ring.
Making sure she gets hers doesn’t have to change that for me. I can take care of her in that department without compromising on the rules I’ve set in place for myself. In fact, we could add her orgasms to our fake dating arrangement if she wants. I’ll make sure she comes so many times she won’t be able to see straight as long as I’m the only one with the privilege.
Because trust me, after the night I pinned her to the wall and made her come, there’s no way in hell another man is going near her without me losing my goddamn mind.
Or going to prison.
She thinks she’s broken. Broken. As if her ex-boyfriend wasn’t already the first name on my shit list, the fact that he made this woman think she’s anything less than perfection personified has me close to seeking him out and destroying his life by any means possible.
An afternoon game in San Antonio got us to Dallas early enough for the boys to take it easy and have the evening off. I, however, have been in my hotel room watching game film since we landed, and I’ll stay right here until our morning practice tomorrow, inevitably checking my phone every thirty minutes for a text from my roommate.
A page full of notes and a quarter and a half into some Dallas film, my hotel phone rings. The sound is obnoxiously loud, and there’s no way to really silence the thing without answering. Unfortunately, even as secure as these hotels are, at least once a road trip, someone from the front desk will call, needing absolutely nothing other than wanting to hear me speak on the other end.
Exasperated and wanting to get this over with, I answer the phone. “Yeah?”
“What a greeting.”
“Ethan? Why are you calling me on the hotel line?”
“Because you ignored me on your cell. The boys are grabbing a round at the hotel bar. Let’s go.”
“I don’t—”
“Private bar. No fans. I’ll even threaten the bartender with an NDA if you want.”
“I’m in the middle of watching game film.”
“And it’ll still be there after you hang with the team for an hour. Ryan, this is the kind of stuff Ron is talking about. It’s the perfect opportunity to bond with the guys and you’re at the hotel. You can go back to your room when you’re ready.”
Before I can deny him one more time, my cell begins buzzing on my bed. With the hotel phone tucked under my cheek, I reach across the mattress to find Indy’s name on the caller ID. I haven’t heard from her in days, and she’s never once called me.
“Ethan, I’ve got to go. Indy is calling me.”
He laughs without humor. “Oh, so you’ll answer your phone for her but not for me.”
“Yeah, well, she’s a lot cuter than you. Talk to you later.”
Simultaneously, I swipe to answer my cell while hanging up the hotel phone.
“Indy?” There’s too much excitement in my voice, so I clear my throat and settle myself. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes. Hi. Sorry. Are you busy? Am I bothering you?”
A chuckle escapes me. “No. But why are you being so formal?”
“I don’t know.” She hesitates. “I guess I’m nervous.”
Taking a seat on my bed, I lean against the headboard. “Why would you be nervous?”
“It’s just… I haven’t heard from you in a few days.”
There’s a small smile sliding across my lips from the unsure tone in my confident roommate’s voice. Nervous Indy is endearing.
“I haven’t heard from you either, Ind. I was giving you some space. Putting the ball in your court after I offered to help you come. After I did make you come.”
“Ryan!”
“What? Don’t tell me that finally having an orgasm has made you shy. It’s just sex, remember?”
She whispers, indicating she’s in public. “I’m not…shy when it comes to sex, but I thought you might be.”
“Just because I’m celibate doesn’t mean the subject makes me uncomfortable.”
There’s a pause on her end of the line, so I continue for her.
“So, you called. What’s going on?”
Her voice brightens and I can almost imagine her squaring her shoulders in excitement. “I’m working on my bucket list, and I thought you should know.”
“Oh yeah? Which one?”
“I’m at the grocery store and I’m buying whatever I want. My cart is halfway full already. I’m getting three different coffee creamers I want to try. One is Fruity Pebbles flavored. Did you know that was a thing? I hope there’s room in the fridge. Do you think there’s room in the fridge for them all?”
I can’t help but smile at the overwhelming joy coming through the line. “We’ll make room. What else are you getting?”
“My favorite dessert are these raspberry turnovers in the frozen aisle. Alex liked the apple ones better so I always bought those, but today I’m getting the raspberry ones.”
“Mmm. Yeah. Those do sound better.”
“I’ll save you a couple. Maybe one. I’ll try to save you one. Actually, do you need anything while I’m here? I can get some things to make dinner when you’re back. Anything you’re in the mood for?”
“Indy,” I sigh. “That’s the opposite of what’s on the bucket list. You’re only allowed to buy what you want. And I can cook for myself. Breakfast is different because it’s…well it’s…”
It’s special.
“It’s our thing,” she says for me.
“Yes. It’s our thing and we trade off, but the whole point of this bucket list is for you to be selfish for once.”
“I know, but I’m not paying rent anymore. Shouldn’t I contribute in some way? I can feed you. If you need help with laundry—”
“Absolutely not,” I scoff. “You’re not my mother.”
“I’m just used to taking care of someone.”
“Trust me, Ind. I know, and you’re still taking care of someone. Only now the person you’re taking care of is you.”
“You’re right.” She sighs into the phone. “Make your own goddamn dinner, Shay.”
A content laugh rumbles in my chest. “There’s my girl.”
What the fuck did I say?
My eyes are wide with regret as I listen intently, sitting in uncomfortable silence.
“I mean—”
“So, what are you doing tonight?” Indy shifts. Thank God.
“I’m in my hotel room. Watching game film.”
“Why? Don’t you have the night off? Go hang with Ethan or something.”
“He’s headed to the hotel bar with the team.”
“You should go! It’s the perfect opportunity to spend time with the team outside of practice.”
“I swear you and Ethan have a text thread going about me because he said the exact same thing to me five minutes ago.”
“I should’ve added this to your bucket list.” Her tone changes, as if she were writing it down. “Become friends with your teammates.”
“Except that has nothing to do with becoming one of your book boyfriends before the wedding, which is the point of the bucket list.”
“No, but it has everything to do with becoming a good captain.”
I flip over, burying my face into the pillow, and mumbling into the fabric. “Fuuuuck.”
“Don’t you just love when I’m right?”
“No,” I quickly answer. “But fine, you win. I’ll go down for one drink.”
“Send me a picture when you get there. For evidence.”
“Well, speaking of the bucket lists, I have one I’m ready to knock off.”
“Oh yeah? Which one?”
“There’s a party I need a date for next Saturday night. You’re home. I checked the Raptors’ schedule, and I’m fairly certain there will be some dancing involved. I’m confident we can get a slow dance in.”
The truth is, I didn’t need to check the Raptors’ schedule because Zanders purposefully planned this party on a night he and I are both off work and in town.
“This sounds fun. And intriguing. What’s the party for?”
“I can’t say just yet, but I think you should buy yourself a new dress.”
“How fancy are we talking here?”
Knowing Zanders, fancy as fuck.
Her pink satin dress floods my memory. How soft the fabric felt under my touch. How fucking stunning she was in it. “Something similar to what you wore at the fall banquet would be perfect.”
“I’ll just wear that dress again.”
I’ve taken Stevie shopping multiple times but making sure my sister is all dressed up would be less suspicious if her best friend took her with the same goal in mind. Not to mention, Indy won’t say it, but I know my girly roommate is dying for a new dress.
“I think you should buy a new one. There’s a credit card stored in the top drawer of the entryway table. Take Stevie and make a day of it.”
“Ryan—”
“Don’t pull that ‘I can’t spend your money’ bullshit. We both know you want to go, and you told me you were an expensive girlfriend, so prove it.”
“You’re sure?”
I laugh. “Stop acting like you’re not excited to spend my money. Yes, I’m sure. And pay for Stevie’s too, please. For this party, I want to be the one to buy her dress.”
There’s a pause on the other end. “What’s so special about this party?”
I stand from the bed. “I gotta go meet up with the team.”
“Hey, Ryan, just so you’re aware, you’re the absolute worst, and I’m buying a new pair of shoes with your money too.”
A smile spreads once again. “Kind of says a lot about you since you like me so much.”
Her soft chuckle invades my ears.
Slipping into my shoes, I grab my hotel key with my phone still pressed to my cheek. “Hey, Blue, I kind of missed talking to you for three days. Let’s not do that again.”
“Deal.”
“Add it to the fridge. With all the other deals we’ve made.”
We both stay silent for a moment, neither of us hanging up just yet.
Indy clears her throat. “See you at home.”
And fuck do I love the way those words sound rolling off her tongue.
“See you at home.”
The hotel bar is hidden from plain view, quietly tucked on the twentieth floor. The double doors are inconspicuous, though the noise of chatter from my fellow teammates is a dead giveaway to the crowd inside.
I keep my head low until I reach the security guard standing with his hands behind his back, guarding the entrance. Looking up, he tilts his head in an approving nod and lets me inside.
Ethan was right, it is a private bar. This very rarely happens, and instantly, this particular hotel shoots to the top of my list. As blessed as I am to live the life I do, I can’t just go out for a beer after work like most people do. I’ll be recognized, photographed, and if I have a bad game the next night, accusations of playing hungover will litter the internet.
Having a social life isn’t worth the headache that comes with it. So, while yes, my apartment can feel like a personal prison at times, it keeps me and my reputation safe.
“Shay!” Dom bursts as soon as I remove my hood. “Hell yeah, man. Get over here.”
He pushes a rookie out of the barstool next to him and pats it a couple times as if it’s been open all night and waiting for me.
Dom is a party boy. There hasn’t been a team gathering where he’s not the center of attention, but he’s also a good guy who loves his mama. He was in the draft class ahead of me, but we spent three years together in college playing for UNC. He went in the second round to a team in Los Angeles, but a year into his contract, his mom had to battle cancer and he requested a trade to his hometown of Chicago, taking a pay cut, simply to be close to her. She’s doing well, but ever since, he hasn’t wanted to leave the city he grew up in. He’s talented. Could go play for any of the championship contenders, the same way I could, but he stays for his family.
For some reason I forgot this about him. Probably because I’ve been selfish as fuck and haven’t thought about any of these guys outside of basketball for far too long. The thirteen guys around me all have their own stories, but I’ve been too worried about my own to care.
Dom holds his beer out to cheers me as we sit at the bar, leaning forward on our forearms.
“How’s your mom?”
Dom’s head jerks back and an instant pang of guilt rams into my chest. I can’t even ask the simplest of questions without causing suspicion.
“She’s good. She had her bi-yearly scans two weeks ago and she’s still in remission.” He nods as if trying to remind himself of the good news. Then he pauses, his brows furrowing in confusion. “Thanks for asking, man.”
“I’ve got to admit, I feel like an ass for not checking in for so long.”
“You’re a big shot now. You’ve got more important things on your plate than my mom’s health.”
He’s not wrong. Well, he’s not wrong in that I’ve acted that way, but the excuse is bullshit. Back in college, I knew every one of my teammates’ parents by their first name even though I always called them by their last. I knew their siblings. I checked in on their grades to see if they needed help maintaining our team required grade point average.
I knew how to care about other people, how to think about other people. How to trust other people because I made sure they could trust me. Allowing Indy into my world has made me painfully aware of the selfish bubble I’ve been living in.
I’ve been wearing blinders for the past four years since everything happened, and I haven’t looked up once. I haven’t seen that my teammates are just like me—normal guys playing the game they love, while living in the spotlight. Sure, it might not be as bright as mine, but it doesn’t mean the pressure feels different.
“That’s bullshit,” I admit. “I mean, you’re completely right that I’ve treated everyone that way, but it’s not okay. I should’ve checked in. I’ve been an ass since I joined the league.”
Dom chuckles. “Okay, softie Shay. We’re cool. You’re still my guy.” He cheers his glass with mine once again. “That Disney princess you’ve got at home is getting you all emotional.”
I laugh. “Her name is Indy, you dick.”
“Oh trust me. I haven’t forgotten your girl’s name. Pretty sure I moan it in my dreams sometimes.”
I shake my head, but an amused smile lifts on my lips. Even though Dom pulls more than any other guy on my team, something about the night Indy went on a date shifted our dynamic. With every fiber of my being, I know she’s not stepping out on this fake relationship.
“Not a chance in hell, Dom. She’s not going anywhere near you or your overused dick.”
His laugh is deep and full. “Fuck, I missed you, Shay.”
I’ve nursed the hell out of my single beer, but two hours into hanging with the guys, and I’ve genuinely had a good time. Ethan headed out an hour ago, but not before giving me the proud dad eyes from across the room. As if I hit my first home run in t-ball instead of simply drinking beers with my teammates in a hotel bar.
My phone buzzes in my pocket with a picture from Stevie of Zanders and their dog Rosie passed out, cuddling on their couch.
STEVIE
Look at my cute little family. Also, I miss you.
That family is going to be official real soon, and she has no idea. I’ve been a bit distant since having this secret on my shoulders, simply because I don’t want to ruin the surprise. But my sister and I can’t go a day without talking, so I remind her via text how much I miss her too.
Then I find a text from Indy in my messages. She sent it well over an hour ago, but I had been too distracted hanging with my teammates to check my phone. Even though my knee jerk reaction is to apologize for missing the picture she sent me of the Chinese takeout sitting in front of all her groceries on our kitchen island, most of me thinks she might be proud of me for having such a good time that I forgot to check my phone.
RYAN
Would you hate me if I told you I completely forgot to send you a picture of me at the bar with my team?
BLUE
Sorry, who is this?
Cute.
My ego, Ryan. We only have so much space in the apartment.
I send her a picture of my empty beer glass with my teammates blurred in the background.
Who is that tall one? Is he single?
They’re all tall.
Perfect, any will do then.
Are you trying to make me jealous?
Is it working?
I know flirting with my sister’s best friend is very much blurring the lines of my fake relationship, but I can’t exactly help it with Ind.
I’m trying to get along with my teammates, and now I’m fighting the urge to get them all traded just from imagining you giving any of them the time of day. Jealous enough for you, Blue?
Three gray dots dance along my screen then disappear. Reappear. Disappear.
For someone who always has something to say, I like making you speechless.
Her response is almost instantaneous.
I can think of another way you can make me speechless.
Oh, fuck me.
Well, now I’m the one without words. In true Indy fashion, she says whatever the hell is on her mind, and I can barely catch up let alone catch my breath.
I hope you and your right hand enjoy the rest of your night. See you at home, Roomie.
All the ways I could make Indy speechless flood my mind, but I think I’d rather make her scream. My name, preferably. Goddamn, and now I’m remembering how fucking pretty she is when she comes. But imagine more than just her dry-humping my leg. Is that chaotic girl even more wild when she fully unravels? Would those lilac fingernails dig into my back and maybe draw blood? Would her bare legs wrap around my waist, her ankles twisting together to pull me tighter? Fuck, I hope I get to find out.
There’s a shit ton of blood rushing to my dick and I’m in a bar of my colleagues. Not exactly the moment I need a fucking hard-on to make an appearance. Indy’s not wrong. That little image she put in my head is begging for my right hand to get to work.
I tell Dom he’s paying for my beer and I’m halfway out the door when I see one of the rookies, Leon Carson, towards the perimeter of a crowded half circle the team is making around the bar. The last time we hung outside of work was at team dinner where Ethan so kindly pointed out that the kid feared me.
Yes, I want respect, but I don’t want anyone I play with to be afraid of me. That’s reserved for any guy wearing a jersey other than Chicago’s.
“Leon.”
He stands straighter, eyes bouncing away from my face, having a hard time connecting. “Hey, Shay.”
Jesus. Even when I was a rookie, I was never this timid. I came into the league with humble confidence, knowing what I was bringing to the game. But Leon is a bench guy. He’s our backup point guard and only plays in the fourth quarter if we’re blowing out another team or getting blown out ourselves.
“On Tuesday I’m going to stay late after practice and work on some footwork drills. Get some shots up. Do you want to join?”
“For real?”
“Yeah, a couple of the guys on the coaching staff usually stay late with me once a week to work on individual stuff, and if there’s anything you’re having trouble with we can go over it together. If you need some pointers on—”
“Yeah! Hell yeah. That would be incredible.”
He’s looking me in the eye now, a bit more self-assurance coming through.
“Good.” I nod towards his empty beer before heading towards the door. “Get yourself another beer. Dom’s buying.”
