Page 14 of Scoring the Player
“Thanks, Dad. Call you later.”
“You’re a baker?” Ciara asks once I hang up.
“Amateur. My parents stayed with me after my surgery to help with things, and we bingedThe Great Bake Off. As you all now know, my dad and I started our own monthly challenge.”
“Bake something for Arnaz.”
My head tips to the side as I toss the idea around. “Huh.” I think of the countless recipes I’ve bookmarked on my laptop at home. It’ll give me the chance to flex my skills and make my interest in him clear at the same time. I’d have to figure out logistics since I live on the other side of the country, but I could use my parents, who live in Los Angeles. I could fly in during an off day—it’d be tight, but it’s possible. Pretty quickly, the idea blooms into a thrilling plan of action.
“That’s actually brilliant, Ciara.”
I need more information, though. Best to go to the source. I peer into the camera.
“Hey, Blue, wassup? I have two questions for you. One, are you single? And two, what’s your favorite dessert?” I ask in my smoothest voice.
And with that, I jump up.
“Thanks, y’all. This was fun. Until next time.”
I turn my head to Ciara. “I owe you one.”
She mouths,Good luck.
I ignore pleas to answer one more question as I head toward the door.
Cillian is leaning against the wall, smiling. “Aight, lover boy. I peep you. Just one minor question. How the actual fuck am I supposed to follow that? They’re going bananas. You gave ’em shock, howling laughter, and romance in under five minutes, not to mention a surprise cameo by your parents.”
I chuckle as he stares at me in disbelief.
“My bad. I owe you one. You think I got a shot, though?”
“I mean, that was crazy romantic. I’d say so. Sid might kill you if they’re dating, but I’m rootin’ for you.”
“You’re a real one.”
“And you do owe me. I want your millionaire’s shortbread with extra ganache.”
I pat his chest. “Say less. I got you, bro.”
“Salem ‘The Silencer’, my ass,” he grumbles as he heads toward the microphone. Somehow, the reporters are louder than before.
I grin as I watch him settle in to take the first question from Kevin. Knowing him, he’s about to feast on their hunger for a soundbite.
“Cillian, what’s your reaction to learning Salem is gay?”
“Pfft, old news.” He dismisses the question with a wave, tilting back in his chair.
I burst out laughing.
“Oh, my bad, did you all only just find out?” he asks, wide-eyed. “Awkward,” he whispers, staring at the table. “I wouldn’t take it personally. I knew because we’re, like, besties, but not many people know.” He seems to consider that. “Well, technically, our coach knows, his family and friends, our entire team, my girlfriend, our cat Edgar...”
He offers a wry smile, meeting the gaze of the reporters.
“But, hey, none of it means anything. Surely, it was important for him to tell all of you. Because, of course, you would respect his right to privacy and not insist on asking every person on his team and across the league for their opinion on his sexuality. I’m sure you only asked me as a one-off because you know he’s my brother from another mother. Given he’s one of the greatest defenders in the league, and we’re all here to discuss basketball, whaddya say we focus on that?”
It took less than two minutes for the challenger, Jo “Bull” Murphy, to knock out heavyweight Sal Corsetti. Cillian may have him beat tonight. It’s like a giant ice bucket’s been released overthe room, dousing the collective fever. Silence permeates as the reporters exchange slightly dazed and embarrassed looks.
Cillian finds my beaming face and winks.
