Page 79 of Loving the Legend
He groans when I slip from under him.
“I won’t let you be late. Go and post at least forty points.”
“That’s a given,” he retorts.
He tries to pull me into an embrace again, but I swat his hand away.
“Fine. I guess I’ll go be great,” he whines. “Oh. Before you agree to the Nike deal, hit me up with the details. Happy to weigh in.”
“Yeah?” I reply. His endorsement earnings have shattered records. It’d be clutch to get his perspective. “Still being generous even after we fucked, eh?”
“Don’t let the big dick and killer looks fool you. I’m a good guy,” he quips, winking. He dips his face to kiss me, nibbling on my lip.
He studies me and it feels as intimate as anything we’ve done. He shakes his head.
“You should go while you still can.” My voice comes out hoarse.
“Don’t tempt me,” he says, opening the door and walking backward.
I remain glued to the door watching him climb into his whip and drive away.
It hits me that we didn’t plan to see each other again. I know he keeps things casual, but I can’t see myself fucking anyone else anytime soon.
I shrug off the unsettling twinge of uncertainty. At least I’ll see him at the game later. I strip off my clothes and climb into the bath that he ran for me before he left. When I climb back into bed to nap, his scent all over the sheets gets me hard. I stroke myself as scenes from our night flicker through my mind. It doesn’t take long for me to come and drift into a peaceful slumber.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The high number of A-list celebrities in the building for the All-Star game is wild. The air buzzes with electricity. Despite the buzz, all the players on the floor are ballin’ like it’s a pickup game amongst friends. The league has received criticism over the years because of the game’s relaxed style. It’s more of an exhibition match for high-caliber players to show off their offensive abilities with minimal defense. The league even increased the winners’ prize to $150,000 per player, whereas the losing team receives $30,000. The prize is supposed to incentivize players to take the game more seriously. It hasn’t really worked, but it’s still entertaining to watch.
The two team captains are voted from the Eastern and Western Conferences and build their teams by selecting a mix of players from an All-Star pool. The pool includes ten conference starters elected by votes from fans, players, and the media. Fourteen reserve players are also selected. The game is employing a new competitive format this year. The first three quarters begin with a zero score for both teams and last twelve minutes. The winning team of each quarter is the team that scores the most points. The game clock is turned off at the startof the fourth quarter, and a Final Target Score is set. The target score is the leading team’s cumulative score of the first three quarters, plus twenty-five points added. The first team to reach the Final Target Score wins the game.
When I reached my seat, Idris, Malik, and Harry grilled me about the hickey on my neck. I shrugged and said real men don’t fuck and tell. My dad taught me that. Still, they insisted. Thank God for Sid’s insane between-the-legs dunk in the second quarter that finally distracted them.
It’s the fourth quarter, and Sid’s already posted thirty-eight points, the most of any player, and his team is four points away from reaching the target score of 158. Seven points away from a win, the opposing team’s point guard lands a backhanded dunk that does little to wow the crowd.
Sid takes possession of the ball and points to Justin. Our heads swivel in Justin’s direction, eager to see what Sid has up his sleeve. He races up court at full speed, heading straight toward Justin, and just when I think he’s going to barrel into him, he soars through the air. At the last second, he spreads his legs, clearing Justin’s head, and slams the ball through the net with a one-hand dunk.
The crowd goes fucking ape. Justin’s over six feet! My jaw is on the floor as Idris and Harry clutch their heads. Sid places a hand over his heart and then races down the court, something I’ve never seen him do after scoring. The play brings his total field goals to forty and his team two points away from a win. Then, the center for Minnesota catches a lob and completes a corner three-pointer.
Sid takes possession of the ball. This could be the winning shot. He fakes a shot and lobs it to a point guard who plays for the Bay Area Hawks. The point guard is at least fifty feet out from the net. What the hell is Sid thinking? The point guard bounces back even further, crosses the ball between his legs, andreleases it from deep downtown. My eyes bulge as the ball soars through the air.
Malik starts to yell, “Air bal—” but swallows his words as the ball crashes straight through the net, clinching the win for Sid’s team. The crowd erupts, myself included. I have to restrain myself from cheering too hard. Given the media’s attention on us, I know they’d run with my fanboying for Sid.
“Captain Wonder Kid strikes again,” Malik says with admiration.
“He’s a beast,” Idris replies.
I just nod and grin.
Sid is presented with an All-Star MVP trophy during the winner’s ceremony. He smiles as he raises it over his head, muscles flexing. He looks badass. A champion’s champion.
My skin prickles, recalling the pleasure of those strong hands and the warmth of his sexy, smiling mouth. As the ceremony comes to an end, Sid scans the sea of people chanting his name. My heart rate ticks up as his gaze pans closer and closer to where I’m seated. Our gazes lock, and a tingling warmth courses through my body. I want to mouth “congratulations,” but there are cameras everywhere. I hold his gaze until he turns away, smiling. He daps players and the coaching staff before he retreats to the locker room. I’m about to turn to Idris when Katrina emerges from the entrance of the tunnel. Sid steps to the side to hug her. As he’s pulling away, she reaches up and plants a kiss on his lips.
Oof!She wraps her arms around his waist as he pulls his head back. It’s done so smoothly that I can’t tell if it was a natural end to the kiss or if he broke it intentionally. The cameras eat up their exchange.
My heart is racing, and my stomach feels like it’s been pumped with cement. So, this is what being one of Sid’s casual lovers feels like. I palm my gut-punched stomach as Harry asksif I want to roll with him to an after-party. I stammer something about being wiped and needing to head home. He studies me, and I think he’s going to call bullshit but says, “Rest up, bruh. You don’t look so great.”
Yeah, I’m a fucking idiot. I conflated hot sex with something more meaningful.
