Page 84 of Rome: The Ballerina

Dark skin.

Natural hair that hung down her back.

Gold, dainty pieces of jewelry.

Rings on every finger.

Bracelets that raced up the left and right arms.

Radiant white teeth.

And an aura that wasn’t to be mistaken.

So soft. So angelic. Yet, so profound.

Instinctively, my hands gripped the ball as it flew past my opponent. DJ’s massive wingspan secured almost every ball at tip off. The nigga was good for something, even on the nights when he was off his game and in his head.

Too slow, buddy.

I hit Chambers with the fake out, leaving him and his ankles near the black lines as I planted my feet and flicked my wrist. At the three point line, I aimed for the basket.

Swoosh.

The crowd roared. Before the third second in the game, three points were on the board.

“Fucking right,” DJ slapped my chest. “Fucking right, my nigga.”

My eyes shifted, finding Rome on the sidelines. Her face was cold. Her posture was perfect. She was poised. Confident. Collected. Unmoved. Unimpressed. But, locked in.

Easy, baby.

Her eyes found mine. Beside her were two women that almost shared the same face with her. Beside them was one of the men hired to protect her.

There was an arena full of people chanting my name. Yet, the one with her lips sealed and her face unchanging is who I couldn’t get past. She was entrancing.

Hello. I mouthed.

She softened, instantly. Her spine curled slightly. Her eyes brightened and rolled upward as her head moved from one side to the other. Those fluffy cheeks of hers fattened.

Is she blushing?I questioned, unsure. When her hand pressed against her forehead, I was provided with evidence.

She’s definitely fucking blushing.

She was so damn beautiful with batting eyelashes and a smile that stretched across her face.

Just like that.

That’s exactly how I wanted her all night. By the time she got home, I prayed her mouth was sore from the unusual exercise.

Let’s motherfucking go!

I’d already made it up in my mind that we were winning this game tonight. But, I had so much more to win, including the heart of the woman feet away.Iwas going to win the game tonight. I didn’t give a fuck if my team participated.

I clutchedthe plate of post-game food, swatting away Long’s hand.

“Move around before I break every finger on your fucking hand.”

“Nigga so serious,” he complained.

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