Page 14 of Half-Court Heat
Her thick Congolese locks were tied back in a low, clean knot at the nape of her neck, a few loose pieces framing her face. She wore a long camel wool coat that cinched at the waist, its lapels turned up against the Chicago wind. Underneath, wide-leg trousers in soft charcoal brushed the tops of her black leather ankle boots—the kind of boots that clicked authoritatively on pavement and made my spine involuntarily straighten.
A fitted mock-neck sweater peeked out from the coat, deep plum or wine, the kind of color that looked regal against her skin. Her gold hoops glinted in the light, matching the single band on her middle finger. Not flashy. Just effortless. She didn’t need to try to look good. She just did.
Eva picked up the coffee I’d painstakingly procured for her. She inspected the messy handwriting on the outside of the cup and raised an eyebrow. “Alex?”
I gave her a sheepish grin. “She asked for my name, and I panicked.”
She smiled, a look both apologetic and endearing. “Sorry, baby.”
“It’ll be fine,” I insisted with more bravado than I felt. “I’ll get used to it. Eventually.”
Eva pulled out her chair and sat with one leg crossed over the other. “Or you don’t.”
I blinked at her, taking my seat as well. “What do you mean?”
“You don’t have to get used to it,” she said, wrapping her fingers around the drink. “You can hate it. You can set boundaries. You can tell me when it’s too much.”
I stared down at my plain black coffee. “You say that, but?—”
“But what?”
“But it’s part of your life,” I said. “Photos. People staring. The whole public persona thing. It comes with the territory.”
“So maybe you decide it’s not worth it.”
She said the words so casually it made me flinch.
“It’s worth it.” I didn’t hesitate. “You’reworth it.”
I expected my words to be enough—to settle the conversation for the time being—but it didn’t. Eva didn’t look at me.
Her fingers tapped at the cardboard sleeve of her cup with a restless energy. “I just don’t want you to start resenting me.”
Her voice was so low it nearly got lost in the noise of the coffee shop.
“Why would I ever resent you?”
She kept her gaze on the drink. “For people staring when we walk into a room. For baristas giving you the side-eye when you order my ridiculous coffee.” Her mouth curved, but it wasn’t a smile. “Being with me means getting pulled into the orbit. Photos, headlines, gossip sites, strangers who think they know you because they recognize your face.” She paused to wet her lips. “You didn’t sign up for that.”
“I signed up for you,” I said.
The muscles in Eva’s throat worked as if she was holding back how much my words affected her. “Yeah, but maybe you didn’t know exactly what you were signing up for.”
“I didn’t,” I said honestly. “Not completely. But I know now.”
“And?” Her voice lilted up with the question.
“And I’m still here. And I’m not going anywhere.” I nodded at her cup. “Now drink your princess coffee before it gets cold.”
Eva let out a quiet breath, like she’d been holding it. She picked up the cup and took a sip, eyes lingering on mine over the lid.
“How was the workout?” she asked, voice steadier now.
“Good. Hard. Jazz made me do box jumps until I questioned our friendship.”
She laughed softly. “Good for her. I’m already regretting going to that meeting—I should’ve gone to the gym with you.” She wrinkled her nose. “Now I have to squeeze into a bathing suit in a few days.”
“You’ll look incredible,” I said without hesitation. “You always do.”
