Page 2 of Who's Saving You
Nicholas moves away from the paparazzi and back to us. “You’re up,” Loving says, gripping his shoulder. “Go get your damn hat.”
This isn’t what we expected, and it feels a bit lonely.He looks at us in shock and says in a robotic voice, “This wasn’t planned.”
“The good shit never is.” I pull him in, my large hands cupping his neck, thumbs on his jawline, and kiss him on each cheek. “Don’t trip on the stairs, pretty boy.”
He laughs and buries his head into our chests as we stand together. I pretend I don’t hear the murmurings about us being split up, but it’s hard to miss. Behind our smiles, the flicker of disappointment is clear, the crack in our fantasy life is broken. The first pick just tore apart our future.
We’re not going together.
They’re splitting us up.
He walks onto the stage, the spotlight is on him, and flashbulbs go off like fireworks. He smiles, and so do Loving and I from the back room. We watch as he puts on the hat, shakes the commissioner's hand, and holds up his new team jersey with the number one signifying his first-round draft pick.
This should feel better than everything we imagined. But it doesn’t. It feels likealmost,like the rest is just slipping through the cracks.
And I wonder if it’s my fault.
My mom comes up beside me and grabs my hand, a silent pillar grounding me. She doesn’t say a word; she just stands with me. I glance around the room, feeling another set of eyes watching me, and see my older sister, Eva, standing with my agent, Dane Beckett. She runs her own sports management team, Papas & Family, with a slogan of “guarding the underdog.” I couldn’t be prouder of her. When we were down to nothing, she never gave up, pressing in even harder to make sure we all made it out on top.
But I didn’t sign on with Eva. I didn’t want anyone thinking my sister got me to the top. She didn’t like it, but she agreed with me and helped me find my agent. We interviewed a bunch before making the decision, but she’s always stood by me, even when she shouldn't have.
~~
Backstage, after the cameras are off of us and onto the next pick, I find the boys again. Soba is sitting on the couch, with a look of relief. I get it: we all want the feeling that comes with that look. That “I was picked and now the work starts, but for tonight, I’m riding high,” look.
Loving is way too quiet, sipping from a water bottle with his phone to his ear. I wait till he ends the call and say, “We’re still going tonight, don’t stress. The original plan was all three going in the first three rounds.”
“Yeah,” Loving mutters. “We knew a lot of things.” His face casts a strange look, but I don’t push.
I laugh. “I mean, it’s not like we got matching team tattoos or anything, right?” But I still rub the inside of my bicep. The one with the ink we all got at seventeen, three arrows, one point.
We left our small suburb in Philadelphia, driving toward the city lights.
Soba grumbles from the backseat of my pickup. “We’re really gonna get matching tats? Isn’t that girly?”
Loving quips, “Only if you put it on your ankle.”
“I’m putting it here.” With my left hand on the steering wheel, I slap my inner bicep.
Soba cries, “That’s gonna hurt like a bitch.”
I shrug. “So? I’m not a pussy.” I eye him in the rearview and raise a brow. I don't need to ask, I know he’s going to do it, too.
Loving announces, “I’m in. I’ll go with the same spot.”
I eye Soba. “You’re out of Trickie Nickies if you don’t put it there, too.”
“Man, fuck you. You know I'm going to do it.”
I chuckle at him. “Don’t worry, we won’t show your future wife the video of you crying.”
“Still a good night,” Soba says.
Loving has a tough exterior, but he softens, steps in, and pulls Soba into a shoulder-bump hug. “Seriously, bro. You earned it. Don’t let our dumb faces ruin it.”
Soba follows. “We’ll be playing against each other, not with each other. But maybe that’s better. Less fights over the playlist on our ride to the games.”
“Think I can still hitch a ride to practice with your sister?” Loving’s eyes hit mine and flare, and I chuckle, but he doesn’t threaten me like he usually does. The joke doesn't quite land because we all know this was our last night as a team.
