Page 68 of Free Agent

But I still was not about to give in to the thirst.

I refused.

It wasn’t until we’d paid the tab, said our goodbyes, and I was tucked safely in the backseat of my secure rideshare and halfway home—I knew I’d be drinking and didn’t want to drive—that I actually looked at my phone again.

Nearly an hour had passed.

This was how I ended up not texting back all those times.

Not at all. You’re so mean. – TW

See, you’re treating me like an animal now. You’re only getting away with this cause you fine. – TW

And cause I know it’s fat. – TW

OTHERWISE!! – TW

I smirked.

Those texts weren’t sent back to back, not exactly. There was a good distance of time between them, letting me know his message wasn’t just some one-off.

He actually wanted to talk to me.

Instead of responding via text, I hit the button to initiate a call, which he answered almost immediately.

“You are really something else, you know that?” he asked in greeting once he’d accepted the call. “How you know I’m not busy?”

I smiled. “If you were busy, you wouldn’t have answered.”

“Nah, not true,” he denied. “You only give me any attention every four business days, so I gotta make sure to pick up your calls.”

“I’m not that bad!”

“You definitely are. But like I said… you’re fine, so you get to do whatever you want.”

“Tatum… were you busy?”

“Not really. But I could’ve been,” he countered, full of fake indignation that made me laugh. “Damn, and you laughing at me? You not even taking me serious for real. I mean I already knew I was just your lover and your secretary but daaaaamn.”

“Stoppp, you’re going to make me feel bad for real!”

“Good. You need to be stopped.”

His tone was so serious it wiped the grin off my face, and my eyes went wide. “Hold on, are you?—”

“Fucking around?” he cut in, chuckling. “Rori, when am I not?”

“Oh thank goodness,” I said, letting my shoulders relax. “Why would you scare me like that?”

“To get you used to not taking niggas’ guilt trips seriously,” he answered. “Call it conditioning.”

My face wrinkled. “Boy, what?!”

“You’re a single woman, right? Fine, successful, probably got some money stacked up. You’re in your free agency period, so as soon as you really step out, you’re gonna have men trying you left and right. Just like these professional leagues. Come to my team. We’ve got a private jet. What uniform you got on? What’s your favorite position? Oh, you’re about to go practice? Without me? Where my trap block at?” he quipped, while I laughed my ass off at the pure silliness of it.

“You laughing, but I’m so deadass,” he chuckled. “You gotta assume it’s all bullshit and make them prove otherwise.”

“The teams or the men?”

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