Page 119 of Impending Consent

I nodded and lifted her around my waist, carrying her into the bathroom in our room. She started the shower and I cleaned my dick in the sink then changed my clothes so I could head out.

When I was done, I stuck my head in the bathroom to let her know I was leaving. "I'll be back in a few hours."

"I'll be here.”

That shit was simple as hell but so incredibly deep. She was mine. She would be here and I didn’t take that for granted.

By the time I made it to the gym, Jairo was already on the court, warming up. He grinned and shook his head when I tossed my bag on the bleachers and headed his way.

“You’re late.” He sent a chest pass in my direction.

I caught the ball, shaking my head at his smirk.

"Traffic.”

“Bruh, you were fucking your wife, which is cool and all, but you better not let it slow you down out here.”

"I’m good. We playing or what?"

"We've been waiting on you, muthafucker." He nodded toward the other end of the court where two guys were shooting around.

“Aight bet.”

We hit the court and moved through the first two games easy as hell. By the third I was tired as hell and feeling all fucking thirty-eight years of my life. The two guys we were up against kept bitching and crying about every damn call so I knew I was sitting my ass down after this one.

“Check.” Jairo called and as soon as he had the ball, he moved straight down the middle and pushed past one of them but sent the ball out wide to me which I sent up for a three.

“That’s a travel,” the shorter one barked, wiping his face with his jersey.

“How the fuck I travel and didn’t move? That’s called a three-point shot. Learn the fucking difference.”

The taller one checked the ball in hard. Jairo caught it and smirked.

“Damn bruh, you mad?”

“Run the fucking play,” the guy snapped and got in his face.

Jairo tossed his chin, dribbled low a few times, then passed it to me. I faked left, spun right, caught the edge of his outstretched arm and was off the ground.

Step-back jumper. All net.

“Count ’em,” Jairo yelled, then looked right at ol’ boy.

We were up ten to two, playing to twelve, so the next play was going to be game point. It was time to end this shit.

“I thought y’all said y’all could ball.” I shook my head, amused by how pissed they were. The shorter one pushed past me, making me laugh.

“Fuck you.”

“Nah I got a wife for that, bruh.”

The next play they blocked my shot and finally were able to make a run but my D was on point. So when I tipped the ball, Jairo stole it and darted up the court. He sent a behind the back pass my way and I sent it right back to him with a no-look that was smooth as hell. He caught it mid-stride and slammed with one hand.

The rim rattled. The gym went quiet for a second then they started going in.

“Damnnnnnn, nuts all in yo face, my G!” someone on the sideline yelled. A group of guys near the bench who had been watching started laughing and talking shit.

Jairo jogged up, palming the ball. “Game, muthafuckers!”

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