Page 89 of Half-Court Heat
Her smile was in her voice. “Go play. Be great. Have fun.”
“You go heal,” I told her. “Andbe patient.”
“Ugh.”
When we finally hung up, I stared at the darkened screen for a second before tossing the phone onto the bed. The day had already started. But somehow, it didn’t feel quite as unmanageable.
Chapter
Twenty-Six
Asharp knock on my apartment door had me putting down my gaming console and heaving my body off the couch. I expected to find another league player on the other side of the door—Dez, Mya, or Jazz, maybe, although they’d probably text first before coming over unannounced.
I opened the door to find one of my teammates, just not any of the ones I expected.
Rayah stood in the hallway. That itself was unremarkable if not for how she was dressed. She’d rolled her practice shorts at the waistband until they better resembled underwear. Her thin T-shirt similarly left little to the imagination. She’d turned the practice shirt into a crop top, which put her tight abdomen on full display. She also wasn’t wearing a bra, and I could confirm for certain that both of her nipples were pierced.
I swallowed once and then cleared my throat, realizing I’d been silently gawking in the doorway.
“Oh. Hi.”
Rayah flashed a megawatt smile that highlighted her deep dimples. “Want to watch some game tape?” She held up a sealed bag of unpopped microwave popcorn. “I brought snacks.”
I had no reason to turn her away. There were always zombies to kill, and I’d been negligent about film review lately. This was a different kind of league; the same gameplay strategies that worked in 5-on-5 didn’t necessarily translate to the 3-on-3 format. The stakes were admittedly lower in the Miami league than in the pros, but I was still competitive as hell and wanted to win the whole damn thing.
I stepped to the side and let Rayah inside.
I caught myself breathing her in as she walked by. “Is that Fenty?” I asked without thinking.
“Butta Drop,” she confirmed. Her head cocked as though seeing me with new eyes.
“Eva uses it,” I explained. I felt the heat rush to my cheeks.
“HowisEva?” Rayah asked. She touched her fingertips to my arm. “Missing you, I bet.”
My mouth did strange, involuntary things. “That makes two of us.”
Rayah nodded, looking thoughtful. “I watch film whenever I’m missing Tash,” she named her own partner.
The two had been a couple since their college days. Both had been drafted, but to different professional teams. It was no secret, however, that they’d left the American league in favor of playing abroad for more money. Tash hadn’t been invited to play in the Miami league, and had stayed abroad to play in China. I wondered what Rayah thought about that—if she harbored any resentment that Briana hadn’t invited her girlfriend and, as a consequence, was half a world away.
Rayah made herself comfortable on the couch in the living room, tucking one leg beneath her. She tore open the plastic on the popcorn bag with her teeth and gave me a sideways grin.
“You got a microwave in this place?” she asked.
I imagined we had the same apartment furnishings. “Yeah, in the kitchen.”
I held up my hands, expecting her to toss me the bag. But instead of letting me make the popcorn, she stood, sauntered past me, and popped the bag into the microwave.
When she turned around, she leaned against the counter. Her arms were folded across her chest, her hazel eyes gleaming. “You know, the trick isn’t just popping it. It’s making sure it doesn’t burn.” Her grin widened, and her dimples deepened. “Timing is everything.”
She stopped the microwave before it could beep and pulled out the bag. The scent filled the room, warm and buttery.
She gave the bag a little shake, which only proceeded to makehershake as well. Beneath her crop top.
If she noticed my stare, she didn’t speak on it.
“Bowl?”
