“That girl right there?” he says, pointing toward Harper as she steps through the door that leads to the practice field. “That girl is my whole life. She has been through more in her twenty-six years of life than most grown adults.”
I peer back over my shoulder and wonder what he means, Harper has quickly become this puzzle I’m dying to solve, and I can’t seem to stay away.
“Josh…”
My eyes flick to his once more.
“I see the way you look at her.” He must notice my eyes bulging because he starts laughing. “I’m old, not blind,” he says with a smile, but my eyes continue to drift back to where Harper is hiding, and I hope I can see her one last time before I have to go to the field for practice. “I need you to be sure before this goes any further.”
“Sure of what?”
“Sure that she’s worth the fight, because, son, she will definitely put up one hell of a fight.” His hand rests on my shoulder before he gives it a sympathetic squeeze. “Boy, will she fight…” he rumbles to himself as he smiles and walks back into his office, leaving me alone leaning against the wall.
I knew last night after the bar when she refused to go out with me that Harper wasn’t like any other woman I’ve dated. She didn’t want my fame; she didn’t want the stories to tell her girlfriends over a glass of wine. She wanted something real and for some reason that I can’t put my finger on, baseball players are not a part of that plan. No matter what she thinks, no matter what she keeps telling herself, I will fight for her. I will fight for her until she threatens to call the cops because I know in my bones that she will change everything.
I give Will a look that tells him he owes me for coming out tonight. If it were up to me, I would be anywhere but here, but I was stupid and thought tonight would be different. I’m sitting with King on one side and Will on the other while we are surrounded by basketball fans. After Will texted me, I hoped tonight would be low key, but when he told me King got tickets to a basketball game, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. Eleven-year-old me would have given his left leg to be at this game, so I conceded, agreed to come. Something I am very much regretting right now.
“Here,” Will says, handing me a beer. “Relax and try and have a good time. It’s the playoffs!” He’s laughing at his own sarcasm, but we both know he’s right.
This season is a big one for me, and I tend to only focus on work when I’m stressed. Coming off an MVP win last year, our coach has been on my ass about producing the same kind of numbers, and if I don’t, there could be consequences. Do I think I can do it? Of course, but being told I have to or else, makes me want to throw something against the wall.
I take a swig of my beer and find myself slowly relaxing into my seat, looking around the arena. The one thing I love about basketball is that the arena is almost as entertaining as the game itself. There are so many things to keep your attention other than the game itself, even if for me, the game is the best part.
“Anderson, chick at your twelve is checking you out!” King says, motioning across the court. My eyes land on a very beautiful woman whose eyes are directly on mine. Her long blonde hair is expertly made to look effortless; her skin is tanned even though it’s not summer yet and I watch as her perfectly manicured fingers wave at me from across the way. King nudges me and groans something along the lines of “lucky bastard,” but all I can seem to do is compare her to Harper. From her hair down to her nails, everything about them is different and for the first time in a very long time, I’m not interested.
Why can’t I get the image of Harper out of my head? I’ve spent the better part of the day trying to forget the way she felt against me, how her blush makes her look so fucking innocent and how her sexy ass looked in those yoga pants.
“Anderson, you realize there’s a game going on in front of you, right?” Will motions to the court as I take another sip of my beer. “This girl really has you in knots, doesn’t she?”
I just shrug, because I don’t even know the answer to the question.
“Come on, man. You barely looked at the girl who was eye-fucking you over there” —he points to the now empty seat— “and your mind isn’t even here tonight. I bet you’ve been thinking about her all night, haven’t you?”
I look away, saying nothing.
“Are you afraid to talk about her?”
“Who are we talking about?” King asks, invading my personal space as he leans over and speaks to Will.
“The mystery girl that has Anderson all fucked up.”
“Are you talking about the chick from the bar?”
I try to keep my face impassive because let’s be honest, King knowing anything about my personal life is never a good idea.
“It is!” he screams. “Holy shit. That girl really did a number on you.”
“Fuck off,” I grunt, trying to watch the game and ignore my teammates as they bombard me with questions I don’t want to answer.
“Did she reject you too?” King asks, and when I don’t answer, he takes that as a yes.
