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aleapoffaithfiction · 5 years ago

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XV.

"When love touches us, it dissolves the walls of misunderstanding and builds a bridge that helps us walk towards each other."- Mimi Novic

“We’re doing the whole set today. You’re on a roll my man. Let’s finish up strong.”

Don’t ask me what the hell a gastrocnemius-soleus complex is because I certainly don’t remember it although I majored in Human Movement back at LSU. Supposedly, I should feel it all in my calf but I can’t deny how much I’m feeling the pressure in my ankle too. Rather than using a chair for support, we’re on the stairs with my hand firmly grasping the banister with both of my feet pressed down onto the bottom step.

“Come on. You got this.”

My glare swiftly panned up from the steps and landed on Sarai, who stood at the very top of them with her entire leg purposefully exposed to me. The Nike shorts she snagged out of my closet are so loose on her, that she was able to easily pull up the half leg of material to the very top of her thigh. Like a hitch hiker attempting to quickly garner the attention of a driver, she wiggled her leg and ended her antics with a wink that instantly sent my trainer and finally myself into roaring laughter. As ridiculous as it looked, it was by far, the most hilarious aspect of all of her comical actions put forth all morning long to keep me as motivated as possible during today’s physical therapy process.

As soon as my alarm went off at six, I was up to start the day and so was she. We stood together at the sink, brushing our teeth while unnecessarily splashing one another with water so either she or myself would move out of the way so one of us would be able to rinse first.

I won.

I’ve never utilized the granite bench inside of the shower until she disrobed herself and stepped inside with me. What was supposed to be a quick wash turned into a waiting time that I’m sure my trainers were not pleased with, though they patiently waited downstairs with Ben. Just the sight of her impeccable body was more than enough to further ignite my need for her. She’s a goddess in her bare state. The seamlessness in her milk chocolate skin radiates in a manner that triggers me to gawk at her and completely lose awareness of both my surroundings and daily purpose beyond our moment. It’s like waving a steak in front of a hungered wild jungle lion. I will never not pounce at the opportunity to be with her; inside her.

I left her in the room after scolding her back into the bed because she’s certainly not over the flu. The silence from the second floor influenced me to believe that she’d gone back to sleep, but when she thought I wasn’t paying attention, she crept downstairs has and been observing our current rehabilitation process ever since. I would be lying if I didn’t admit to working two or three times harder than my usual under her gaze. Her presence alone served as a motivating factor to cease the sometimes-negative state of mind I tend to fall into when I reflect on all that needs to be done to get me back out on the field. I never look forward to hearing what the media has to say about me, whether bad or good, but like anyone else within my field, I cannot help but to pay attention to it because it’s there and unless you completely shut yourself off from the world, it’s inescapable. In looking at my lady this morning, I’m looking forward to hearing what she has to say when she’s reporting about my explosiveness at training camp and the redemptive comeback season that I’m going to make sure that I have. I have to win it all. I’ve sat far too long for me to not come back and get it done.

“Good job champ. You want to take a break?”

“Nah. Let’s keep going.”

Another two and half hours went by; sending us well off into the early afternoon. Not even the smell of lunch and Sarai and Ben’s loud banter from the kitchen served as a distraction. Perspiration covered nearly every part of me as I trekked up the stairs to the bathroom for a shower and though I took one, it was pointless due to my desire to sit inside of the steam room.

When I first took a walk through of the house with the realtor, I snickered at the idea of a steam room being in the house, let alone me sitting inside of it. I’ve always looked at that as a spa type of a situation that mostly women enjoy. I’m not even into the cold or hot tub rehabilitation practices after extensive workouts at our training facility because my patience tends to wear thin after standing or even sitting there for over ten to fifteen minutes. After moving in, I would walk past it for a while without even considering giving it a try no matter how many times my momma raved about it, but after one mentally draining day earlier this year I needed some time to myself and I chose to sit in there to be away from any outside distractions in the house and most of all, from my phone.

The more technology advances, the more we’re unable to set our phones aside from an extended period of time. They’ve become our source for everything; communication, entertainment, keeping track of health, research, and just about anything else that the internet is able to aid us with. We’ve reached a point of not being able to help ourselves with the manner in which we crave to have them in our hands. We panic when the battery hits below seventy percent, we’re buying portable chargers or begging people to use theirs whenever we’re out of the house or car, and a lot of the time we’re timing just how long we’ll be somewhere based upon how much charge is left. I’m guilty of it, so I have no room to pass judgement on anyone for it. I’m trying to get better at it stepping away from it though and the steam room has been one of my forms of discipline.

With my phone sitting in some other room, I’m able to be one with my thoughts. It’s my time to sort through the clutter in my head to figure out where I’ve gone right, where I’ve gone wrong, and what needs to improve for the betterment of my mental space and what’s happening around me. There are times when I’m sitting there without much of anything to concern myself with and I’m just trying to find a place of relaxation. Today might be that. In the midst of the workout, I was able to management my thoughts. Now, I’m just trying to get these aching muscles together.

“May I join you? Maybe I can sweat the rest of this flu out.” My eyes instantly opened to stare at the beauty of Sarai’s face and I used my hand to gesture her inside. Like myself, her smooth skin was covered with a pure white towel while her braids were pulled up into a sloppy bun with a few strands of them falling all over the place.

“The little green light outside gave away your hiding place.” Her presence sitting alongside me only intensified the warmth swarming my frame. Like a magnet, my eyes glanced over at her illuminating legs as they stretched out in front of her and she blissfully sighed at the feeling of peace.

“It’s okay. I’m willing to share it with you.”

What I thought was solace prior to her presence didn’t feel quite like it does with her here now. Every exhale soothed the tension from the hours of training as the drawn-out inhales of her intoxicating scent drowned me into a drunken elation. The dampened skin of her arm brushed against mine with her slight movements, leaving trails of chills trickling onto various areas of my awakening frame. My every sense instantly became hers to control; hers to summon for anything she desires. She is my peace and yet she is a flammable fluid to the flames; igniting me for what is sure to be severe and fiery. My once tightly closed eyes, ripped open and glinted over at the calmness radiating from her and I wordlessly scolded myself for having every intention to interrupt that. My teeth wrenched my bottom lip when the tips of my fingers met the very top of the delicate towel and our glares instantly met as I unraveled it to reveal everything that I wanted.

“Come here.”

Without hesitation, Sarai stood to her feet leaving the towel idly lying on the bench and gradually straddled my lap in the exact manner that I yearned for her too upon the sight of her. Inexorably, her supple lips meshed into mine, sending a bliss spiraling through every aspect of me. My eyes closed yet again, but it wasn’t darkness I saw. Bursts of colors flashed before me, alleviating any remaining tension I may have had while melting away my awareness of anything beyond the two of us.

As soon as my lips peeled away from hers, I trailed them over any area of her moist skin that was within reach. Her hips bucked, beginning a purposeful tormenting as she grinded into my lap. Foreplay or anything of its sort were the last thing on her mind, prompting me to battle with my lead and her own.

“Don’t make me wait.” And just like that the stiffening worsened along with the tight grip I had on her hips. Just as I had reached for her towel and successfully removed it minutes ago, she was now reaching down between us for mine.

“I never do.” My tongue laved over her nipple causing a sharp hiss to spill from her lips.

With one arm lifting her up to give me just enough space, I was able to discard of my own towel. To feed my ever-going curiosity, my fingers slicked along the wetness oozing from her while unified grunts filled the steamy space around us. As my thumb strummed over her most sensitive point, the impatience worsened. Her fingers raveled into my hair, lightly tugging at it to draw me in for yet another kiss.

“You gon’ ride it?”

“Please.”

I didn’t need to hear anything else.

Within seconds, she was lowering herself onto me; sending a rush of uncontainable chills nipping at every nerve ending I have. The profanity that left me was instant. The warmth from the steam was no longer relevant because it was of no match to the heat of her throbbing flesh snugly wrapped around me. My arm locked around her waist for some form of self-composure, but I failed in what I sought out as she unhurriedly rocked to and from me. Any form of control I thought I have ceased as soon as my head met the wooden wall behind me while my eyes watched her perform.

“Damn, Sarai…” The unparalleled sensation was one thing but her damn near mythical like aura in the midst of it was sending me into a wild delirium. Her skin gleamed, under the dim lighting. The sheen of perspiration covering it only enticed me to lick at her; satisfying any thirst that I have. The perkiness lightly bouncing on her chest sent my attention span into a frenzy as I constantly panned my eyes between her face and them. I’d sound like a dickhead if I thanked God for her getting sick, which then granted me all of the time I’ve had with her this week, so I won’t. I’ll just be thankful for the time and how much we’ve been doing this since she starting feeling better.

A piercing yelp filled my ears as I pulled her down, further deepening myself into her. Shudders washed over me, leaving my mouth agape in a disbelief. I could hear Ben calling my name in a distance from the door, which prompted me to cover her mouth with my own, in a hushing kiss. While it lowered the timbre, if he stepped to and stopped in front of the door, we’d be guilty as charged. The reality of that was of no interruption to our moment or Sarai’s hips.

“Shhh…” My warning against her lips evoked a grimace to form on her gorgeous face as she pulled the bottom one in-between her teeth. With every touch of her finger tips to my scalp, an electricity nipped at my skin, shutting down any aspect of composure I was trying to keep and evoking the animalistic aspect of myself that I only know to show itself on the field. The only healthy drug that exists; she is that. My escape; she’s become that. I don’t know or realize any sense of time when she and I are together; I’ve surrendered myself completely to her without fear of any outcome that our future fate may be.

And in my addiction to every aspect of her, I am secured in knowing that I am not alone in what I feel. I know it to be true in the way that she steals glances of me when she thinks I’m not paying attention. I can hear it in her tone when she’s encouraging me and recognizing the greatness that she takes pride in me having. I recognize it in the way that she looks after me while also holding me accountable to properly look after myself. I can feel it in everything; her kisses, hugs, caresses, shit right now. Right fucking now.

“Fuck!”

My throat tightened while my grip on her hips tightened even worse than they already were. It was her turn to kiss me into a muffled silence. My heart’s writhing against my chest quickened. Our hazy eyes remained locked on one another while a mutual ecstasy arose. Any self-awareness I had left relinquished itself to her world; allowing me to bask in what is unlike any other that was before her and anymore never to come. Our cries voiced out against our lips, hers before mine as I wanted it to be and yet mine soon after.

Breathlessly, I continued to kiss her as our frames shuttered, relishing in the elation.

“You think he heard us?”

“I don’t care.”

And I don’t.

Despite the sweat suit and North Face coat serving as a protective barrier over my body, the brisk whirling air swarmed and numbed me to a standstill as while I watched the doors run around the backyard area to stretch themselves out. Though it hasn’t started yet, the cloudy sky gave warning for the pending snow that should be making its presence known by sometime tomorrow morning. The weather reports are inflicting fear within the tri-state area with their eight to twelve inches predictions but I’m assured in all of it being an over exaggeration.

For the most part, since I’ve been living in New Jersey, we usually never get as much as they say we are. Sometimes, I anticipate one of those historic blizzards and the concept of being snowed in the house but the reality of the headache that is the clean-up process settles in and my mind swiftly changes. Also, being snowed in the house is only a cool situation depending upon who you’re snowed in with.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit too cold out here for them?” I glanced back to find Sarai halfway outside of the sliding glass door fully dressed, but without the barrier of a coat or shoes. Just as I’d been doing, she quietly glanced up at the sky to assess the shift in the weather.

“It’s not too cold for them. It’s too cold for you. Get back in the house.”

“Did you forget that I was born and raised in Brooklyn, Nola man? I’m not fazed by the cold.”

“Yeah, but you’re not completely better yet. Don’t mess up your progress. What’s with the clothes? I thought you were just going to throw on something from my closet to longue around in.”

“I was, until I realized that it’s going to snow tomorrow. I’m going to have to drive to Brooklyn to make sure the ground is salted in front of my mom’s house. Actually, I’m probably going to have to go to the store to buy the salt. She never remembers to get any. Then there’s my house. That’s the part about being a homeowner that sucks. Usually my neighbor is kind enough to help out without me even asking him to, but I don’t want him to feel like I’m depending on him to do it.” To further disregard my request for her to go inside, she stepped out of the door just a bit more and summoned Mowgli to her with two pats to her lap.

“Your neighbor?”

“Yeah, he lives a few houses down from me. He’s damn near sixty-five years old and has a wife, who he’s been married to since he was twenty. It’s admirable.”

“Forty-five years of marriage? Wow.”

“Exactly. They’re still super smitten by one another too. He looks out for me from time to time when it comes to stuff like shoveling snow or putting ice down because he views it as a man’s job. He has that old fashion aspect to him, although I think it’s silly.”

“It’s not silly. It’s proper. I can go to your house and put the salt down. Just give me the keys. You can go to do what you need to do for your mom, so that you can come straight back here.”

“Don’t worry about it. The last thing I need is you getting hurt trying to pour salt everywhere. I have it under control. Besides, you need to spend some time with your friend. I’m sure he’s tired of seeing my face around here. I’m not one hundred percent but I feel a lot better. We can switch back to our normal roles of me as your nurse and you as my defiant patient now.”

“Ben doesn’t pay bills in my house.” My response wasn’t amusing to me, but it certainly was to her. Her laugher was loud enough for both myself and him to hear it, if he’s nearby. Last I remembered, he was sitting in the kitchen, frowning, and complaining about sometime. I wasn’t listening.

“Yeah, but he’s here visiting you. How fair is it that I’m intruding on that?”

“Intruding? I want you here.”

“And you want him here too. Be fair.”

“So, you’re going home?” I knew the answer to that question and yet I still asked though it’s the last thing that I want to hear. I thought she’d be here until she goes back to work. We don’t ever get stretched of time to be around one another in the manner that we’ve had this week and to say I’m spoiled is an understatement.

“I’m like ten minutes away. If the snow isn’t too bad tomorrow, come and see me. If not, I’ll come to see you.”

“Or you can just stay.”

“Don’t be stubborn. You’ve had me for days.”

“Hmm.” Khan darted off to retrieved the nearly deflated football I threw off to the far left. It was in a good condition days ago, before he sunk his teeth into it and put tiny holes around its perimeters.

“Don’t be like that. Come and give me a kiss.”

Rather than walking in her direction, I remained in place to purposefully taunt her with my slight irritation and pigheadedness. She remained just as amused as she’d been when I mentioned who pays my bills. It wasn’t long before I felt her warm body wrapping itself around me. Her giggles were muffled as she pressed her face into the back of my coat while clutching my as tight as she could.

“You are so stubborn. Kiss me.”

“No problem.” I lifted my arm so she’d be able to swing around to be in a closer proximity to my face and I pressed my lips into her forehead.

“Kiss my lips now.”

“Take off your pants.”

“Not those! Come on. I want to get to the store because people are ridiculous when winter storms are coming.”

To oblige her plea, I finally leaned down to give her the “see you later kiss” she needed before parting ways with me for the day. If she just stayed, we could be kissing all day long.

“I’ll call you when I get in the house.”

“Alright. Drive safely.”

“Will do, handsome. Eris, you want to come home with me?”

“No, she does not. Leave my child right where she is.”

“You’re so petty. She loves me. They all do, actually.” Though I waved her off, I know they do. She spoils them whenever she’s around and she’s starting to get them accustomed to jumping up on my furniture. We’re going to have to have a talk about that though, because they know better and they’re going to continue to know better.

“If you’re going to be a momma to my dogs, we’re going to have to split their bills. The vet, grooming, and feeding them isn’t cheap.” We smirked in unison. “I can do that, for as long as daddy is splitting momma’s bills.”

“I can do that for as long as momma is splitting on daddy’s….”

“Okay, okay, shut up! I’ll call you.” Her hands flew up in surrender at the shift in the conversation and she blew me a kiss before stepping back inside.

Aside from rehab, I really haven’t done anything this week other than shack up in the house, as old folks call it. That’s never been me. Since coming into the league, sitting still hasn’t been something I’ve been able to do and I’ve gotten so accustomed to constant movement, that I’m even doing so when I’m on my own personal time.

Whether it’s New York or L.A., there’s always something going on and I somehow find my way being a part of it. Most would attribute it to my age and lack of a personal responsibility aside from myself, but there’s also an aspect of loneliness to this life that you don’t realize until buying anything that comes to mind starts getting old, visits from the family aren’t as frequent because they have their own lives, and having your friends in your face twenty four seven isn’t as entertaining anymore.

My first three years in the league was filled with more partying than I ever experienced. I went from being a young twenty-one-year-old thinking I was coming into this solely to focus on playing football and to provide for those that I love, but that catch exposed me to a totally different aspect of all of this and I definitely got wrapped up in it. A lot of analysts now reference to me as a superstar celebrity who just so happens to be a great professional football as either a deliberate insult or as an unnecessary excuse for the poor attitude, they believe I have. I’ve had fun for sure, but there’s been something about being under the radar while dealing with my injury that has not only humbled me, but also exposed me what I wasn’t seeing in the midst of the partying and drinking.

I don’t miss it at all. It sounds crazy to even say or contemplate, but I don’t. I guess that’s what meeting the right one does to you? It’s a joke that I even laughed at Shep for the way he quickly became head over heels in love and obsessed with everything about Chanel. We used to tease him as a collective whenever he raved about her and humorously dismissed him from our childish Apex Predator’s Club but it’s really starting to feel like I’m dismissing myself too. Am I really clocking the fuck out?

Sheesh.

“Aye. Struggle Face. What the fuck we getting into now that you decided to bring yo ass up for air?”

“I’m about to make some calls for invites. Game night. Order some pizzas and wings.”

“Or we can all just go to Bowlmor Lanes.”

“That’s cool too.”

I guess getting out for some air in Manhattan could be good for me.

I pride myself on my capability to be well rounded in most sports, but bowling is equally a hit or miss. On a good day, I’m embarrassing anybody who steps up to the lanes, but tonight, I’m getting by ass handed to me by both Shep and Ben’s asses. I won the first round and I’ve been in a slump ever since. Maybe it’s because I mentally clocked out an hour ago.

“I’m so mad that we didn’t bet money. I could have been blowing a bag over at the Supreme store right now.” Because I drove, I passed on the alcohol. I’ve been babysitting this glass of strawberry lemonade for a while now. The ice already melted in it.

“I’m letting your ass win.”

“Aye Shep, you hear this sore loser?”

“You know O hates losing. He doesn’t even mind that he’s a sore loser. He’ll tell you that he’s one himself.”

“I will. I don’t mind losing here though, because this shit doesn’t count and I’m not going full out.”

“Now he’s not going full out. Man, whatever. I’m kicking your ass fair and square. You lucky I ain’t put it on the ‘gram and embarrass you even more.” Ben stuffed a handful of fries into his mouth and stuck up his middle finger at me as he chewed them. His lead isn’t even that impressive for him to be talking all of this smack, but I’ll let him have it.

“What’s been up with rehab bro? I know we touched on it before, but how’s it been going since I was last over there?”

“It’s been good. We ramped it up some more and we’re incher closer to working on stamina and agility. I still have those sore days but it’s nothing that I can’t handle. I’m just glad to be back on my feet.”

“Word. We ready for you to bring your ass back. The locker room’s been dulling without you. I been trying to hold it down, but it’s not the same.” It’s always good to hear that. This season has been a tough one to watch from home. The possibility of making it to the playoffs was nowhere near possible. Lost wise, it’s the Giants’ worse season yet. It’s been frustrating to even think about. We were already zero and four going into the game where the injury happened and not much momentum picked up from there.

“I’m working. Can’t wait to be back brother.”

“Yeah, he’s working, playing nurse, and practicing how to make kids all at once. That’s one multitalented mu’fucker.” A bit of Shep’s drink slipped out of the side of his mouth as he snickered at Ben’s slick ass commentary.

“Wait. What you mean?”

“Sarai moved in.” As soon as the lie left Ben’s lips, I sucked my teeth.

“Damn, y’all moving like that already?”

“You really believe this dumbass? She caught the flu and stayed with me until she was feeling better. Since she wasn’t going to work, it just made sense.”

“So, you’ve hung up your cleats to become a nurse now? Okay, house husband. I see you.” Their laughter came with justification. I deserve that. I did it to him for a while, so it’s only right that he does it to me. I can be a sore loser, but in this case fair is fair. The joke’s on me.

“Real funny.”

“You should have seen him. He had Renee in there making all these soups and teas and shit. He was bringing that shit upstairs to her, giving her medicine, and rubbing stink ass Vicks on her.”

“Did you do the choo choo train or the airplane when you were bringing the spoon of medicine towards her mouth?” If Victor was here, he and Shep would have been going back and forth with the jokes endlessly. I definitely miss having his guidance around. He’s still my family nonetheless.

“Ya’ll done?”

“You called me high maintenance for dating a supermodel but you’re with a sports analyst.”

“He’s dating the enemy Shep. I thought you hate the media.”

“I don’t hate the media. I just think the media doesn’t give people the opportunity to grow; well at least some of them don’t. They stick to one narrative about you no matter what you do. Other than that, it’s whatever. I have a lot of respect for plenty of the sports reporters. I love Kim Jones. Kobe and Chad are great additions. Cris Carter is cool. We speak from time to time.”

“But everybody loves Sarai Nazaire though. I’ve never anyone say a bad thing about her. If anything, dudes have been plotting on ways to get at her. You saw Otto at Chanel’s party.” Of course, he’d bring that up. He’s just as entertained by it now as he was that night.

“That’s not important.” I’ve heard more than enough of it. She’s locker room talk no matter where you go. Her name will randomly come out of someone’s mouth at a social gathering and most of all, when I’m surrounded by a bunch of guys who can’t help but to shift the topic of conversation to women they’re trying to turn into another notch on their belts. It’s no lie that she’s a popular name within those conversations, but the part that always remained interesting was her lack of acknowledgement and attentiveness to it. It’s what made them deem her to be intimidating and arose questions of whether she’s a “bitch” in person or not. Of course, she’s never been anything of that sort, which worsened plenty of desires.

I get it. When I was sitting across from her during the interview we did up in Bristol, I could barely focus on what she was saying. My mind was on everything about her other than her words, but by the grace of God I was able to pay attention just enough not to expose myself. Granted, I made the running joke of a video about guys who lust over her, so I wasn’t as composed as I wish I was.

“Does your mom like her?”

“Yeah, she loves her.”

“Yeah, probably because she has a legit job. I can’t say the same thing for all of your past situations.”

“Keep talking shit and you gon’ have frost bite all over yo’ ass from being kicked out in the snow.”

I finally gulped down enough of the watered-down lemonade to leave the glass half filled. My phone vibrating in my pocket captured my attention next.

I miss you.

I wasn’t expecting that. I figured she’d had enough for me for the week, hence why she left but clearly not. I can’t suppress my smile even if I tried to.

I miss you too.

I missed her as soon as she left me standing outside with the dogs.

I grabbed a couple of things from the grocery store and couldn’t help but to grab your favorite snacks. Maybe you can stop by for a little while?

Sarai’s about to have me go out like a sucker in front of my friends. Shit.

I’ll be there in less than an hour.

“I know that look. That boy is out of here. Ben look at him. He’s about to bail out.”

“We’re done playing anyway.”

“We paid for two more games. You really about to leave? If you do, I’m never going to stop making fun of you. Oh, and I’m replacing you with young Shep as a friend. This man is getting married and he’s sitting right here.”

“By the time you get back to the house, I’ll probably already be there. Don’t sweat it. I’ma bust your ass in Call of Duty before the night is over.”

“Nah, we done. I’m never coming back up here again. I’m keeping my ass in Florida.”

“You’ll be back.” I had to laugh. His over exaggeration never ends.

“Yeah, but not to visit yo’ sucker for love ass.”

“Shep, I’m gon’ plan something at the house right before Christmas. Maybe two or three days before. Come through.”

“I’ll be there.”

“You want me to drop you off at the house or yall gon’ stay and play those games?”

“I got him. We’ll play and head back.”

“I’m bringing a gang of bitches back to your crib with me.”

“Whatever.”

As soon as I pulled my hood over my head, I stood up from the table and began to quickly make a dash towards the exit. The pending snow fall left the place without as much of a crowd as they usually have, which allowed me to not be approached by anybody for anything. I usually don’t mind it, but sometimes people don’t understand when you want to have a moment of normalcy without having to stop for pictures. It almost starts to feel like you’re in a fish bowl or like you’re a zoo animal caged in with all of these spectators just looking at you and waiting for you to do something to entertain them. Any moment where I can be out on the scene alone or with people without much hassle is a moment that is appreciated tremendously. I already have slight paranoia of what that type of stuff will be like when I’m a parent and I’m out somewhere with my kid or kids.

Rather than taking the Henry Hudson Parkway straight to Fort Lee, I took New York-495 West into New Jersey 495 West because it was the better route and had no traffic whatsoever. That less than an hour time frame I gave her was a promise kept because I was parked on her street no more than thirty-five minutes after my departure from the city. Yet again, my hood was over my head as I jogged up her steps. Aside from the elevator, another great aspect of Sarai’s house is the view of the river. I always take a glance at it while I’m standing outside. Tonight, it looks even better with all of the holiday lighting covering all of the houses. Her banisters are wrapped with white lights and there’s a wreath perfectly hanging on her door.

“I didn’t think you’re get here this fast.” Our kiss was short and sweet. I could taste whatever chocolate she was enjoying. “And you drove the Rolls Royce. Really?”

“It’s usually the only one I drive.” It’s always funny to see her in Giants gear. It takes me back to when she questioned me about my assumptions of her being a fan or not.

“In front of my door though?”

“Sometimes you’re a bit too humble about who you are. It’s never going to be a surprise that you know people with money. Something smells good. You cooked?”

She stood there and continued to eye my car as I followed the fume of whatever was coming from the kitchen. I had wings while bowling but I have more than enough room for whatever that is.

“Shrimp alfredo. I made a Caesar salad too. Wine is on the counter.”

“I’m on it. Thank you, baby.”

“Uh huh.”

She stood at the door for as long as I was in the kitchen it seems because when I was on my way to the living room with my plate, she was entering with me. The dim lighting set the mood for whatever movie she had on pause.

“What were you watching?”

“The Preacher’s Wife. Whitney is so flawless in this.”

“This is a good one. I’d probably say The Grinch is one of my favorites, but I just enjoy watching A Christmas Story with my step-father Derek because he laughs at it like he’s never seen it before. I mean, he laughs until he has tears in his eyes and it just makes me laugh.”

“I laugh at it too. Ralphie is hilarious. My dad loved that movie.”

In the midst of me stuffing my face with arguably the best alfredo I’ve had aside from my aunt’s; Sarai became one of those people who everyone hates to watch a movie with. If she wasn’t mumbling along to every line that came out of Whitney Houston’s mouth, she was singing along to the songs while bopping that small head of hers. I had to tune her out when she began to rave about how fine Denzel Washington is because I’ve heard enough of that from my momma. He’s absolutely one of the elite actors’ period, I don’t even need to mention his blackness, but there’s a universal attraction to him amongst women of all age groups. He and Idris Elba are always the ones being mentioned.

“Baby.”

“Hm?” I noticed it when I sat down earlier, but it became all I could focus on once I returned from putting my empty plate into the kitchen. While her porch looked as festive as it needs to be, the blandness of the Christmas tree sitting in the corner of the room didn’t make much sense. Around it is boxes of what I’m assuming are the decorations that are supposed to be on it and rather than having the Christmas stockings hanging from her fireplace, they’re randomly piled up together on top of it.

“Why haven’t you decorated the tree? The porch looks great, but what happened in here?”

“I don’t know.” It was mumbled dismissively. She didn’t even bother to look in the direction of the tree.

“You didn’t have time or something?”

“I guess not.”

“Or you didn’t remember to do it?”

“That too.”

“Or you were planning to do it right before Christmas Eve?”

“Exactly.”

“Sarai.” I used the tips of my fingers to turn her head towards me. I kept her jaw lightly in my grasp to stop the frivolous lies in response to my questions. Eye contact became a challenge because she chose to look past me instead of looking directly at me. The once joyous expression on her face as she did her best to match Whitney’s unparalleled tone morphed into an anguished that she did not want me to see or experience. The glossiness in her eyes stifled me.

“It was a tradition between my dad and I. We used to do it together every year. I lost interest in it.” Guilt punched me in the gut at full force.

Her answer was already playing in my mind before she said it. Sorrow only fills her eyes at the subject of him. Typically, she grimaces in frustration when speaking about her mother. The strain between the two of them is a subject she tends to avoid but I’ve picked up on bits and pieces of it. For her sister, she’s usually rolling her eyes and scoffing at the manner in which they’re polar opposites. For her father, his death still torments her as if it happened just a few months ago or less. There’s a void within her life that leaves the pain of his loss weighing on her shoulders and hanging over her like the darkest cloud. The avoidance makes sense.

“What if you and I make decorating the tree our tradition? We’ll continue it together. The memories of you and your dad will always be special. I’d like to honor that with you by breathing life into the tradition again.” The questioning glare she held eased into a quiet contemplation with her own thoughts about my suggestion. If she turns it down, I’m okay with that. I’ll never force it.

“You can say no. I’m okay with that. I won’t push it.”

“There has to be hot chocolate with a lot of marshmallows in it. I’d usually bake cookies. I don’t have any cookie dough in here but I do have those butter cookies that comes in the tin can. You know the ones black moms keep everything but cookies in? Motown Christmas has to be on. My mom isn’t biased and can listen to anyone sing holiday music but for him, it always had to be Motown. Oh, and hats. They’re a must.”

“Okay, I’ll put on the water for the hot chocolate and I know Apple Music has to have the Motown stuff. We can do all of that.” A rush of excitement urged me to leap off of the couch and dash towards the kitchen.

“There’s no need to put water on. I have a Keurig. The box of Swiss Miss k-cups is in the first cabinet. The marshmallows are in there too.” We were a distance away but I heard her loud and clear. While the first cup brewed, I used my phone to look for the music we’d need to really set the mood for what we’re about to do. I don’t know the first thing about decorating a tree because my momma always does it for me, but I’m about to make Sarai’s look like something out of a catalog for the sake of seeing her smile.

“I found a bunch of albums baby. Which one?” “The one with the purple cover. It should have clouds and flowers on it too with something like a picture frame in the middle. I think that’s one of the better albums.”

“The one with The Temptations, Stevie Wonder, Smokey Robinson and The Miracles, and Diana Ross and The Supremes?”

“That’s the one.”

I connected my phone to the Beats Pill she keeps in the kitchen to use while she’s preparing for something and hit play on the album she specifically requested. Michael Jackson’s childhood voice blared into the kitchen’s space immediately. As she dug through the boxes, I left the speaker and my phone in the living room so I’d have free hands for the cups of hot chocolate. Within minutes, I returned with those, with marshmallows spilling over just how she requested it.

“So how do we start this?”

“Well, we don’t have to worry about lights because it’s already pre-lighted with color and clear LED lighting, so I guess we just have to put the other stuff on.”

“Why do you have an artificial tree instead of a real one?”

“Because they shed and I’m not a fan of the smell.”

“Not a nature kind of a girl huh? Noted.”

“No, so don’t ever think you’re taking me camping.” Aloofly, her fingers scratched at her braids while we stood in place attempting to visualize exactly how this tree is supposed to look. I guess you just throw garland on it or something, right?

“Well, maybe we should figure out the color scheme first?”

“I have red and white ornaments, red and gold ones, or red and green. They’re sets and they’re all separated. Which set?” Is this supposed to be so complicated?

“All of them?” Our eyes met while I shrugged. It makes sense. They’re all Christmas colors.

“Okay. I guess it could work.”

Her once tidy living room began to look like a holiday catalog vomited in it as we dumped boxes of decorations everywhere in an attempt to figure out what we were going to do. Once those hats were secured on our heads, we frolicked in silver and gold garland while vocally butchering one song right after another. I didn’t realize I knew so many holiday classics until now.

“Alright, so these are tree picks. You just randomly place them anywhere. Just make it look good, I guess.”

“So, in here?” I stuck one in the velvety red petals into the tree and slapped my hands together to rid them of the gold glitter that donned the edges of the petals.

“Yeah. Like that.”

“Baby, what’s that Run DMC Christmas song?”

“Christmas in Hollis.”

“That’s the one.”

I grabbed my phone to make the switch and just as she knew I would, I start dancing around the living room. I hit any old school dance that came to mind with my camera on to capture it as I did so. She didn’t leave me out to dry. Once all of her laughing was over with, I had a dancing partner yet again. She one upped me by knowing the lyrics, so I had no choice but to go harder in the dancing area.

“Mariah! We have to hear Mariah next.”

“You have to perform it though. Lip sync battle.” “Put it on.”

She may not be able to sing like Mariah. That New York Giants may not be what anyone would consider holiday comfort wear. The sloppy bun she pulled her braids up into may not be what most would consider an ideal hairstyle. They can all go to hell too. All five foot five inches of her danced around the living room in what is by far the most flawless performance of the infectious song. An empty tube that once held golden ball ornaments was her microphone and I was the affection of her eye. I drowned into her essence so much that every lyric suddenly felt like they were written for and about me. The gleam in her eyes illuminated the living room far more than the lights beaming from the tree and the heated glare of the fireplace. Her smile? Infectious. My cheeks were beginning to ache because of my own. I’m never doing karaoke with her.

“Your turn!”

“Nah, you got it.”

“Oh, come on. Pick a song.”

“I’d fall flat after that”

“You better not show anyone that video either. I know I look dumb as hell.”

“You look adorable.” A light mush to my head came instantly.

With an arm hanging over her shoulder, we stood together and observed the work we’d done on the tree. I’m not sure what else we could add. We’ve been at it for hours, putting stuff on, taking some off, and replacing it with what we thought would look better. A little bit of this, a little bit of that, and whatever else.

“Wow.”

“Right.”

“That looks…”

“Like shit.”

“Right.”

We cackled knowingly. It looked like crap all along and yet we continued with carelessly placing all that she had anywhere we saw fit to place it. We had no real strategy or methodology. We sought out fun and that’s what won in the end.

“It’s our shit though.” That prompted me to kiss her forehead. “I needed this. Thank you.”

“I don’t need a thank you. I’m just glad we did it. We can fix it in the morning.”

“No, it’s staying just like that. It’s so funny.” I think Charlie Brown’s struggle tree might look better than the clutter we have sitting in the corner of the room.

“What would happen after you finished decorating the tree?”

The curtains were drawn back just enough to display the falling snow outside. The flakes were thick and beautifully cascading to the thin sheet covering ground.

“A movie; usually my pick.”

“Well, what’s your pick.”

“A Miracle On 34th Street, with ice cream.”

“We’re going from hot chocolate to ice cream?”

“Yes. I’ll fix it. You put the movie on. It’s already in my purchases on the Apple TV.”

Under a red and black flannel throw, we closely curled up on her plush couch with chocolate fudge sundaes. Mine was practically melting as the bowl rested on the coffee table near the sectional. Our legs intertwined at random points while she laid back against my chest savoring every remaining bit in her own bowl. As if she’d never seen it before, her concentration on the film never faltered but I was only able to massage her scalp through her braids while mentally reliving this entire week, including tonight’s festivities.

Shep’s question at Chanel’s birthday party came to mind. I couldn’t and didn’t answer it then.

New York has never felt like home until now. Everything I feel is so peculiar and yet so addicting. It’s absolute, with indescribable and infinite measures. In the midst of a time that I thought would be traumatic and chaotic, I’ve found an unimaginable peace that I have innately gravitated towards and come to cherish more than just about anything else going on in my life. What felt like a bleak future beyond my professional life has now opened up sharp visions of a path to take that will ultimately lead me to a fulfillment. I’ve gone from dreaming about what life would be life with the woman I came to admire on my television screen to now never wanting to envision life without her.

I’ve always heard to love is to genuinely want more for someone than you could ever want for yourself and there’s nothing more that I want than for her to have all of the goodness this shallow world has to offer.

Without being hesitant or unnerved I can confirm his question. It’s without a doubt.

#odell beckham jr fanfic #odell beckham fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #fan fic #obj fanfic

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victoriawayne-todd · 4 years ago

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STARTING AN ODELL BECKHAM JR FANFICTION! Posted the prologue on WattPad! Click the link!!

#odell beckham jr #nfl #OBJ #Fanfiction #Wattpad

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tomhenks · 5 years ago

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My Apex fic is up!

Yes, the title is I Gave You A Hamburger. I’ll probably explain that later on. But yeah, I’ve been working on this for a while and I finally posted it, so here it is! I completely forgot to make a post for the first chapter on here, so I’m making one now. There are 2 chapters so far and I have more written, but idk how long it’ll actually be. I hope y’all enjoy it tho!

#apex legends #my fic #my wirting #fanfiction #apex fanfic #oc: taipan #obj #makoa gibraltar #elliott witt #octavio silva #gibraltar #mirage #octane

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sabrinaleethings · 6 years ago

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We Are Not Afraid: DBH SiMarkus Fanfiction [CH.5]

Markus and Simon were androids owned by famous artist, Carl Manfred. After his untimely death, Markus and Simon’s lives change forever as Leo, Carl’s disowned and criminal son, take ownership of them. Carl’s death doesn’t go unnoticed however, as Hank and his new android partner Connor, are hired to solve the case. Follow Markus and Simon as they forge a new path for the Android Revolution.

Click Below for Previous Chapters!

FanFiction or Archive

Markus

November 16, 2034

“I want you to try, Markus.” Carl’s voice was soft as he rolled forward on his wheelchair. He stopped in front of Markus, gazing up at his android who stood in front of an empty easel. “Let’s see if you’ve got any talent.”

The mid morning sun casted golden streaks of light through the open windows of the artist’s studio, the empty glass paint canisters reflected hues of warm reds and blues on the makeshift tables.

Markus looked around, confusion poked and prodded his interface.

“Paint? P- But painting what?” RK200’s voice was soft as the android surveyed the numerous paintings his owner had previously made. “It’s… that’s not part of my program.”

Carl sighed, but didn’t back down. He inched forward, closer to his android son. There was an experimental glint in his eye, the amusement and calm excitement seemed to radiate through the older man as he crossed his arms and gestured to the canvas leaning on a nearby table.

“Anything you want Markus.” A dried and forgotten painter’s pallet appeared in Carl’s hands as Markus’ LED spun golden.

RK200 sighed and ran his hand over his head, scratching at his short hair. A human gesture he’d come to easily learn by taking care of Carl.

“Carl,I-”

“Just try, son. ‘Doesn’t have to be any good.” The man in the wheelchair reached and handed the android the pallet.

Markus leveled the pallet on his hip, and grabbed a paintbrush from a nearby canister.

After adding blues, reds, and yellows to the pallet, the android looked around.

[...CURRENT OBJ: -paint-...]

The android’s emerald eyes landed on a few different things, including Carl’s original painting displayed on the wall, a pile of paint supplies precariously piled on the table nearby, the silhouette of trees outside in Carl’s backyard…

Markus decided.

The android dipped his brush into the splotches of paint, and began.

He analyzed Carl’s work in progress and committed every brushstroke, every texture, and every varying hue to memory as he painted.

An unfamiliar sense of peace seemed to wash through the android, it warmed his chest cavity but- not in a bad way, no. It was almost pleasant, enjoyable.

[ vvv SOFTWARE INSTABILITY vvv ]

Almost.

After a few passes with his paintbrush, before long, the android finished the painting he was tasked to do.

[...OBJ COMPLETE: -paint-...]

Stepping back and surveying his work, the android decided he did a perfect job at painting. Surely it would please Carl- it was a perfect replica of the android’s favorite piece of art Carl Manfred had created.

“That is a perfect copy...” Carl’s voice was low and smooth as he regarded Markus. “...of reality.” Carl sighed. The disappointment in his voice didn’t go unnoticed as Markus’ stilled in place, his paintbrush was frozen in time as Carl continued, “But, painting is not about replicating the world, it’s about interpreting it, improving on it…” His human eyes fell on his own painting. “...showing the world what you see.”

Markus momentarily panicked as he regarded Carl, he’d displeased him. Disappointed him, didn’t complete the task at hand.

“Carl, I’m sorry I-”

“Do something for me.” His voice hushed the android’s. “Grab that canvass over there, and close your eyes.”

Markus loosened a breath as he replaced his painting with a fresh, untouched one.

“Trust me.”

The android did.

Carl’s voice was hypnotic as he hummed to Markus, “Close your eyes, Markus. Try to imagine something that doesn’t exist.” Carl’s voice seemed to filled the air around them. “Something you’ve never seen.”

Markus’ processors were slow as he tried to comply to the command. When he closed his eyes, all he saw were colors, like the colors on a stained glass window. A million fragments of different memories, different scenes, all pieced together to create a mosaic of colors behind his eyelids.

“Concentrate on how it makes you feel, and let your hand drift across the canvass.”

Markus began to feel the heat growing in his chest again as he lifted the paintbrush to the white space in front of him.

The android’s LED spun bright yellow as he concentrated. Breaking through walls of coding and pre-programmed script was easy for the android as he let the rest of his mind wander. Like wading through water, the android bypassed all preconstructed script in his program that didn’t allow him to process his own emotions or opinions on reality.

Carl’s voice soothed and guided him as he continued to paint.

“That’s it Markus, just feel whatever it is that’s going through you. Accept it, and embrace it.”

Markus didn’t notice he was crying until the skin receptors on his wrist alerted him to an unknown presence tickling his synthetic arm hair. The android peeked through his tangled eyelashes only for a moment, to see a shining drop of liquid on his arm. As he blinked, another one fell, trickling down the top of his wrist like a raindrop on a windowpane.

His LED must have spiraled red for a moment as he processed what was happening. Androids shouldn’t cry, they weren’t programmed that way, he shouldn’t have been feeling anything…

[vvv SYSTEM INSTABILITY vvv]

“It’s alright Markus,” Carl’s hand was warm and soft on the android’s elbow. “You’re doing great.”

Memories and strange alien feelings were swimming through the android’s veins. Anger at humans for their regard to androids, pride and disbelief that Carl believed in him so much, even though he was only an android, hope for a world in the future where androids weren’t being used and abused as if they were mere possessions…

Taking a breath to try and cool the warmth that seemed to radiate throughout his android body, Markus opened his eyes.

It was like seeing for the first time, being brought online for the first time at CyberLife- the view surprised even Markus.

“Oh my God…” Carl’s voice faded into awe as he rolled forward and placed his hand on the small of Markus’ back. The android swayed on his feet as his processors fought to slow down.

Displayed in front of the two was a message of hope. Harsh paintbrush strokes textured an android’s hand as it sprouted from the bottom of the painting, desperately reaching for the waiting human’s outstretched hand above.

Hope. A future. Two things Markus never believed he could even possibly wish for. He was android, a biotic replication of a human but- why did he feel so alive?

“Markus!” The android turned, a gruff and loud voice stole his attention.

“Android!” Leo’s voice echoed through the studio, his voice so loud it drowned him, almost suffocated him.

“Markus!”

[-SYSTEM STARTUP INITIALIZING-]

There was a warm presence registered on his hand for just barely a second before it vanished.

Carl?

[...scanning for software errors…]

[...all systems online…]

[...GPS Found: 10319 S Lafayette Dr. - APPT. of LEO MANFRED-]

[...system startup COMPLETE…]

Android RK200 opened his eyes the same moment a pile of clothing was being thrusted into his arms.

“Get up fucker, and put these on. We leave in ten.” Markus had barely enough time to register it was Leo commanding him- the human had disappeared from the dining room before he was able to do a proper scan of his environment.

[...CURRENT OBJ: -change clothing-....]

The RK200 glanced down at the articles of fabric in his hands. Black jeans and an oversized hoodie draped precariously in his arms. Surprisingly, it was one of the cleanest things in the room.

Dust and dirt glittered in the morning’s sunlight. The floor was barely recognizable underneath the dirt and trash.

Markus’ head slowly turned as he noticed a slight warmth brushing his left bicep.

The PL600 android- Simon was it? - was in rest mode, leaning against the wall like Markus had just been.

The android’s LED spun a constant yellow, and a quick scan showed Markus that the android indeed still had mechanical malfunctions from the night before…

Markus traced his eyes down the side of the PL600- the blood and grime from the previous day had been cleaned, but the same clothes remained. Stained and reeking of human body odor and smoke.

Markus tilted his head slightly as he further assessed the android next to him. Simon was favorably leaning on his right leg, as if to reduce as much weight on his other leg as much as possible. The odd angle made Markus’ eyes drift lower, following the seams and lines down the side of the android’s arm.

Markus’ eyes froze as they reached Simon’s hand. The external skin on his hand was retracted, completely showing the plastic interface that usually was concealed under their synthetic skin.

Markus shifted his weight and stole his gaze back to himself, his eyes settled on his own left arm.

The skin covering Markus’ wrist was dissolved… as if he and Simon …

Shaking his head slowly as if to banish the thoughts, Markus glanced again at Simon’s hand where…

The PL600’s skin was already back in place.

“Simon? What-?” Markus’ voice was barely a whisper in the cold and empty room.

“You coming bitch, or what?” The apartment was so small that Leo’s yell seemed to shake the already crumbling walls.

“Yes, Leo.” Markus responded. The words seemed to feel sour in his mouth, like he shouldn’t have been agreeing.

[vvv SYSTEM INSTABILITY vvv]

Leo was already waiting by the front door as Markus approached. The human’s hands were shoved deep into his coat pockets as he swayed back and forth on two unstable legs.

Markus noticed the withdrawal effects from Leo’s red ice use was in remission at the moment- the human’s blood pressure was only slightly raised, his oxygen levels a little bit lower than usual but not enough to cause concern.

“First things first fucker,” Leo removed one of his hands from his pockets and gripped the door handle with white knuckles, “once we get back, you’re gonna completely wipe whatever memory or hard drive whatever you have in that head of yours.”

Markus straighten slightly, the synthetic muscles of his abdomen began to seize and constrict, creating odd discomfort in the android.

“You’re not gonna remember a fucking thing of what happens today, got it?” Leo’s voice was dangerously low, almost a growl as he regarded Markus.

“Yes, Leo.” Markus nodded his head slowly- his job was to obey and serve but- why did this feel so wrong? “It’ll be done.”

Satisfied with the answer, Leo grunted in response and made his way out, leaving Markus behind.

Markus could have sworn he heard soft footsteps padding behind him, but he didn’t dare turn. He had a job to do, and that was that.

Android RK200 sighed unconsciously, and followed Leo out the door.

Serve and obey. Serve and obey.

Markus’ inner programming thrummed through his mental processors as he sat in the front seat of Leo’s car.

Ever since leaving rest mode Markus felt, off. Weird.

Like there were holes and cracks in his programming that made his processing software slower, like it took more effort to think and react.

It could have been the fact that he dreamt last night, which androids shouldn’t do, or the possibility the PL600 tampered with his software while he was ‘asleep,’ he didn’t know.

Leo started his car and shifted into drive. The tires whined and screeched as the human accelerated too quickly down the road.

Android RK200 didn’t like the discomfort he was feeling, so he ran manual software checks as Leo drove them to whatever destination they were headed.

[...CHECKING SOFTWARE…]

…

[...NO DAMAGE DETECTED…]

…

[...RUNNING SELF DIAGNOSTIC…]

…

[...ALL SYSTEMS ONLINE…]

Markus shook his head as message after message appeared in his field of vision.The blinking white text was blinding. Nothing detected. Nothing wrong. The android’s hands were intertwined in his lap, but his knuckles were white as he squeezed and pulled on his fingers, a human gesture he somehow became accustomed to doing. Odd, since he’d only been online for little more than a day.

Frustrated, Markus ran the self-diagnostic and system checks again. And again. And again.

On his fourth or fifth scan, he was shocked back into reality.

The sharp and loud click of a gun being cocked stole Markus’ attention.

Leo was driving with one knee steering the wheel, and his hands prepping an old, police commissioned pistol.

The sweat on Leo’s brow became more apparent as the autumn sun highlighted the shining droplets.

Markus frowned, his green eyes glued to the trigger of the gun he’d used last night on Simon.

“Leo, what are you-”

“Don’t talk unless I tell you to, got it?” Cold, sharp, and laced with adrenaline, Leo gave his first of many commands to the android seated next to him.

Markus only nodded, his LED spinning crimson for a millisecond before returning to crystal blue.

The sun was hidden by a swarm of angry clouds as Leo parked his car in front of what seemed to be an abandoned house. The current condition of said building was almost replicant of Leo’s apartment. The gutters practically flying off with the fall breeze, the siding of the building was being torn and pried off by the elements outside, two of the three visible front windows were even boarded up.

“Alright tin can, listen closely.” Leo turned off the car as he scratched the stubble on his chin with the gun. “The fucker in there owes me money. Your job, is to get that money.” His voice began to fluctuate and rise in pitch, the hunger in his eyes devoured Markus.

“Leo there’s no way…” The back of the human’s hand connected with the android’s cheek- a gutteral whine escaped his lips. Androids didn’t feel pain the same way humans did, but the shock was still the same. Markus tamed his expression to hide the fear that seemed to gnaw at his stomach, and stared at his hands wrestling each other in his lap.

“I’m not gonna tell you again fucker. You get me my money, or you’re gonna end up in the fucking bottom of a goddamned lake.” Leo raised the pistol and leveled it at the android’s temple. “Understood?”

Android. Servant. Submissive. Obey.

Fear. Fear?

A bright red flashing wall of code and programming suffocated Markus. He tried to break through the walls, to say no, to disagree...but,

“Understood, Leo.”

The human leaned back and rested his head against the window. The pistol in his hand was lazily waved around as he finished his instructions.

“The guy’s name is Frank. His wife left his scummy ass for an accountant a while back- let’s just say he owes me for some of my favors.” Leo looked out the drivers side window at the house. His expression darkened at the view. “He’s got a daughter named Alice, cute kid I guess.” Markus felt the thirium pump louder and harder through his ears. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I don’t give a shit what you do, but you’ve got two options. Either convince Frank to pay,” Leo lowered the barrel of the gun and tapped the android with the handle. “Or fucking shoot them all and take the money. I don’t give a damn.”

Markus raised a hand and grabbed the gun, the handle was familiar in his palm as flashbacks of the night prior synapsed through his memory. Shooting Simon, not wanting to shoot Simon…

“You get me my money, or I’ll fucking end you. Plain and simple.”

A blinking white message appeared in Markus’ view.

[:CURRENT OBJECTIVE: >obtain money<]

“As you wish Leo. It will be done.” Markus lowered the gun to his lap and his fingers idly traced the lines carved in the barrel of the gun.

It felt oddly familiar to Markus- the cool steel in his hands, the acceleration of his thirium pump in his chest, the incessant pounding of software processing that was happening in his head.

“I’ll be waiting for you right here when you’re done.” Leo crossed his arms and seemed to size up the android. His eyes skimming the frozen RK200. “You got ten minutes max before I leave.”

“Yes Leo.” Markus’ words were barely a breath between his lips.

“If you fuck things up android, you’re gonna shoot yourself in the fucking head before you let anyone catch you.” A smile pulled at the corners of Leo’s lips, his yellow tinted teeth shined through chapped lips. It sent Markus’ LED spinning golden as he processed the new command.

“Yes, Leo. I will not fail.”

“Good. Now get the fuck going.”

Markus nodded and released a shaky sigh. Androids weren’t supposed to get nervous, get scared, but the failure of this mission meant Markus’ death and, he didn’t want to die.

No. He didn’t want to die.

He must succeed.

The android swung open the old car’s door and stepped outside. The sun warmed his cheeks and the heat was absorbed into the black sweatshirt he wore- if androids could sweat, Markus would be dripping.

There was no pre-destined code or programming for this type of situation, so Markus scanned the internet quickly on his march to the door, and downloaded multiple police tactics and interrogation protocols that would hopefully come in handy should things turn out poorly. Ways to talk down someone who’s angry or panicked- what to do when facing someone who’s irate; and lastly, self defence maneuvers should it turn violent.

Oh, ra9… what are you doing.

Markus rubbed his hands together in the most human way he could fashion. Ideally, by mimicking known and familiar human gestures, he would be able to almost comfort and convince Frank that he wasn’t a threat.

Markus nodded inwardly to himself as another flashing countdown began in his peripheral vision. He had ten minutes to succeed. Or ten minutes to savor being alive… well maybe not alive, but fully functional at least.

The android rapped his knuckles on the faded and weary looking door. Opting for the most pacifist and ‘normal’ encounter he could would have a 70% chance probability that things wouldn’t get hostile. And if they did… the gun fashioned to his lower back by his waistband seemed to burn his synthetic skin.

[^^ STRESS: 15% ^^]

Markus lifted his hand again to knock for a second time when movement caught his attention. The faded yellow curtains inside the window next to the door parted slightly to frame a short and pert nose, along with two bright, brown eyes.

“Alice? My name is Markus, I’m a friend of your dad’s.” The android lied- being programmed as a domestic assistant and companion allowed the android to easily communicate and connect with the small child, though it was a struggle for him to wade through the software that seemed to be running at 50% capacity. “Can I come in? I’d really like to see him.”

The little girl scrunched her nose and pouted her lips, slowly shaking her head from side to side.

“Please, Alice?” Markus tilted his head and smiled, his emerald eyes were bright and focused solely on the small child. He didn’t notice right away that there was muffled yelling coming from inside the house.

“ Alice! ” Frank’s voice was thick and seemed to melt through the walls. “ Alice! Who the fuck’s tha- ” Markus stood taller, back inhumanly erect, as the door slowly opened. The human’s voice became louder and clearer through the now opened threshold.

“Who the fuck are you?” Markus didn’t need to run an analysis to know that Frank was both intoxicated, and still affected by a separate illegal substance.His breath was hot and reeked of death and decay.

“Hey Frank,” Markus played on the side of casual formality. “My name’s Markus, a friend of yours told me where you lived and asked me to stop by and chat with you for a bit.”

The man shifted on his feet and crossed his arms. He was roughly the same height as the android, if not a little shorter. His human eyes landed on the LED on Markus’ temple. “What friend we talkin’?”

Markus looked around outside, his head swiveled from over his left shoulder to his right- something that he took note of when researching suspicious behavior among humans on the streets.

“Maybe we should discuss this inside…” Markus suggested, his head bowing very slightly as he lifted an eyebrow in question.

“Fat chance android. Who sent yuh?”

[vvv PROBABILITY OF SUCCESS 62% vvv]

Markus ran through every possible scenario that was connected with each answer he concluded he could give. Giving Leo’s name and identification right away could either anger Frank, or cause him to understand the android’s presence immediately and force him to cooperate.

Giving Frank a false name of someone he’d done business with in the past however, could give Markus the invitation inside he desperately needed.

The goal was still the same. Obtain the money to deliver to Leo. Or die trying.

Markus felt himself yearning for a third option before his programming shut those feelings down.

Android. Serve and obey.

“Carl Manfred sent me.”

The human paled. His face turned clammy as all the blood fled from his cheeks. Markus had said something right he guessed, to warrant such a response.

“He- that dude’s fucking dead. The hell do you mean?”

It was a perfect opportunity for entry.

“Let me inside and I can explain. I am an android, model RK200 and I cannot lie.” Markus crossed his arms, mirroring the same stance the human held. “Out here isn’t the best place to discuss this.”

It took Frank longer than necessary to respond, but he did.

“Alice,” he turned to his daughter that was still staring out of the window. “Go to your room now, and don’t come out until I say.”

The fluttering of her footsteps disappeared up the steps, and as they faded Frank opened the door further.

“You got two minutes to explain yourself before I get really pissed.”

“Absolutely Frank.” Markus stepped inside, side shuffling past the brute of a man that blocked most of the doorway. “Thank-you.”

As the door clicked shut behind them, Markus stepped further into the front room. It wasn’t in the same condition that the outside showed, but there was still plenty of things trashed around the room that made the inside look sad and dark. Empty beer bottles scattered the kitchen table, and pizza boxes piled high on the floor near an overflowing trash can.

Everything inside was so dark . The boarded windows snuffed out any chances of natural light and the flourescent lightbulbs barely protruded the shadows that seemed to grow from every corner of the house.

Markus’ emerald eyes met Frank’s as the human slid a handgun from behind his back.

[^^^STRESS 45%^^^]

“Two minutes. Now.” Frank’s voice was loud, but unsupported. Markus could tell the man was exhausted, and not in any mood to waste whatever energy he had left.

“Got it.” Markus nodded and crossed his arms. His blue LED casted brilliant reflections on the walls surrounding them. “Without wasting your time Frank, I’ve been sent to collect the money you owe Leo Manfred.”

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me…” Frank inched closer to Markus, the gun hanged like a dead weight in the man’s hand.

“I wish I was Frank. Listen-” Markus started. “Carl knew before he died the business you and Leo had.” Markus didn’t know for certain if this were true, hell he’d never even met the famous painter before in his life, but, based on research online, Carl was a wealthy and affluent member of society. He controlled more than the common man, and maybe such power could convince Frank to submit. “He knew before his passing about the debt you owe to Leo, his own son . It’s time to pay that back now, Frank.”

“Go to hell.” The human raised the gun level to the android’s chest and this initiated Markus’ survival reaction. He held his hands up in surrender.

“Frank, you don’t want to do this. I know you’re a good father, you’ve tried your hardest these past few years, just end it with the Manfreds.” Frank growled through his teeth as he looked up through hooded eyes.

“Don’t act like you fucking know me, you know nothing .”

Markus stepped forward and lowered his voice.

“I’m not going to pretend to know you personally, you’re right Frank.” Markus fought back a shiver that seemed to vibrate through his body.

[vvv SOFTWARE INSTABILITY vvv]

“ But , I do know that Carl had more connections to our society than anyone else did. Just because he’s dead doesn’t mean that all of the history before his passing gets to disappear too.”

There was a hole in the pit of Markus’ stomach that began to cave in on itself. The processors in his head began to feel like each string of coding took longer and longer to decipher and encrypt.

What was happening to him?

Markus began feeling the human equivalent to sadness as he talked about a man he didn’t even know. “Finish what had been started before his passing, Frank. Pay Leo back now, and you never have to think of it again.”

Sweat beaded the human’s forehead, and his breaths seemed to catch in his throat, only to be swallowed by angry guttural noises.

“And if I don’t?”

Markus’ options splayed before him. A hammering white blockade of text blurred his vision.

[>CHOSE PERSUASION:

[>violent

[>passive

[>say nothing

Markus balled his fists tight, the white of his plastic inner casings began to show through his translucent knuckles.

If he failed his task, then he would be dead. He’d be dead either way, he couldn’t fail. He didn’t want to die. He wanted to live.

[>CHOSE PERSUASION:

[> violent <]

[>passive

[>say nothing

[^^^ STRESS LEVELS 65% ^^^]

[>truth

[>lie

Simon’s words rang through the android’s mind. ‘ It’s your choice Markus… remember who you were…”

Choice. Simon had told Markus that he had a choice, but- that couldn’t be true. They didn't have free wills. They couldn’t choose or decide, it wasn’t a part of their programming.

[> truth <]

[>lie

“I have been given the task of killing you, Frank if you don’t cooperate. Humans are much more delicate than androids, it would be easy for me to do.”

Frank tightened the grip on the gun in his hand, his arm began to shake at the strain it took him to hold it aimed at Markus for so long.

“I don’t want to kill you, Frank. Just make this easy and pay him back.” Markus could see the expression of Frank’s face shift. The deep frown lines on the human’s cheeks darkened with shadow as his face contorted. “Please, Frank. Just end this.”

The human shifted on his feet, and Markus deconstructed the next few seconds before they could even begin.

“Fine. Consider this the end.” Frank said as he pulled the trigger.

#detroit become human #detroit become human fanfiction #dbh #dbh fanfiction #dbh simarkus #simarkus #detroit become human simon #detroit become human markus #dbh markus #dbh simon #dbh pl600 #dbhrk200

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berberriescorner · 4 years ago

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“I Got You”

Characters: Odell Beckham Jr. x Black!OC (Nicole)

Summary: All Odell wants to do is take his wife on a fun date, but things go left. What happens when Nicole’s insecurities resurface and irritation sparks an argument?

Warnings: A little profanity. Some harassment. Low self-esteem. Tension with a heavy dose of fluff and smut to follow. Oral and unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap that willy). You’ve been warned 😈.

A/N: I’ve been having a hard time finishing part four of Disastrous Deception and I wanted to give you all something to hold you over. I promise I’ve been working 😩. This is something I wrote a while back. Taking a break from my hubby (in my head 😆) Angel Reyes and bringing you all some sexy ass OBJ content. I wrote this for my plus-sized melanated Queens 😍. Please excuse any grammatical errors. Hope you all enjoy it!

Word Count: 1,400+

What is it with men and their bright ideas? Nicole’s idea of the perfect Saturday night was staying in, ordering takeout, and curling up on the couch with her husband. That’s not asking too much, right? That was the plan until Odell waltzed his happy ass in their bedroom and begged her to go to a freaking haunted house.

“Come on baby we should go. It’ll be fun. What, you scared? Now you know daddy gon’ protect yo fine ass,” he said as his New Orleans accent made an appearance.

“No! Odell I don’t like shit popping out at me. I’ma be ready to swing on everybody. Plus as soon as we’re spotted it will be impossible to enjoy it. It’ll be just like last weekend when we were trying to have a nice quiet dinner,” she replied. Thousands of pleas later Nicole finally gave in and said yes.

As she expected, the date was cut short and the couple spent the hour drive home arguing and giving each other the silent treatment. The date had ended abruptly due to the fact that some jackass thought it would be funny to scare the hell out of them and get it on tape so he could sell the footage to the highest bidder. The guy had scared Nicole so badly that he caused her to trip and roll her ankle. To make a terrible situation even worse the man didn’t even apologize or ask if she was okay. He just laughed and continued to capture the embarrassing moment. This in turn pissed Odell off. He snatched the phone away from him and handed it to the bodyguard to delete the footage while he beat the dude’s ass. It took forever for their bodyguard to finally pull Odell off of the Jerk.

Instead of those running the establishment being sympathetic to the couple’s situation they kicked everyone involved out. As the couple pulled into the driveway Nicole attempted to get out of the car on her own. She failed miserably and was about to ask the bodyguard to help her into the house when she was cut off by Odell.

“Why don’t you let your husband help you for once,” he snapped.

“What is your problem? How is it that you’re mad at me,” she asked in a smart ass tone.

“Just come on,” he replied while scooping her out of the car.

Odell carried her inside the house and sat her down gently on the couch. He removed her shoes and propped her swollen ankle on top of some throw pillows.

“I’m going to fix you some ice for your ankle. Or do you want someone else to do that as well,” he griped.

“Why are you so angry at me for letting the bodyguard carry me,” she asked, throwing her hands up in a defeated manner.

“That shit was embarrassing. You got people out here thinking I can’t take care of my wife,” he replied.

There it was. Odell had an attitude because the damn bodyguard carried me to the car. He didn’t get to be the big hero and save the day.

“I asked Jay to carry me because I’m already self conscious about my weight. That’s one of the main reasons I didn’t want to go in the first place. I knew I’d fall or do something embarrassing. Haunted Houses are not for me. I take up more space than others,” she explained with sadness in her voice.

“People already have opinions about our relationship. Do you know how many people, both male and female, I've overheard talking about us? They think it’s a shame that you’re married to a plus sized woman. Why let you carry me out of there and give them more to talk about,” Nicole questioned.

“Please excuse my language and with all due respect, fuck what anybody else talking about. How many times do we need to have this discussion Nicki? Babygirl, I love you just the way you are. No matter what size you are. No matter what size you’ll ever be. I’ma love you regardless baby. It’s not just your physical that makes me love you. It’s everything about you. Been about ya, still about ya, always gonna be about ya love,” he said grabbing Nicole’s face and giving her a passionate kiss.

After a few moments he pulled back from the kiss. “How much pain are you in,” Odell asked in a seductive tone while licking his lips.

“It’s pretty painful but you said all those beautiful things and kissed me like that. Now you got a bish panties wet. Fuck it, I’ma take any pain coming my way like a G. I just hope some of that pain is the good type of pain,” she replied biting her lip.

In a matter of moments she was picked up from the couch and gently tossed on their bed. Odell was eager to show Nicole just how much he loved every single curve she had.

He slowly undressed Nicole and laid her down. He removed his clothing and laid between her thighs. Odell kissed from her lips down to her neck and began leaving love bites all over her breast. He took one of her nipples into his mouth as he snaked his hands between her thighs and began to rub her most sensitive spot. Nicole threw her head back into the pillows and let out a slight moan.

“Odell...baby,” she moaned as he slipped two fingers inside her.

He released her nipple when he noticed she had closed her eyes.

“I want to see those pretty brown eyes. Look at me baby,” he demanded.

Nicole’s eyes fluttered open and she bit her lip as she made eye contact with him. Odell grinned and kept his eyes trained on her as he slid down between her legs. His eyes were now burning with desire. He planted kisses all over the insides of her thighs as she grew impatient.

“Baby don’t play games please,” she begged.

He quickly went to work on her taking her ball of nerves into his mouth. He sucked and licked it as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of her.

“You taste so good baby. I love every part of you. These thick ass thighs drive me crazy,” he said as he gave them a squeeze and sank his face deeper while locking her into place.

“Shit! Odell baby,” she moaned loudly.

“Don’t let go baby not yet,” he said as he pulled his mouth away from her.

Before she could get mad he made his way back up to her and gave her another passionate kiss as he slammed into her. Nicole screamed into the kiss as he gave her a few moments to adjust to his size. She began to move her hips to signal that she was ready. Wrapping her legs firmly around his waist Odell began to pound into her.

“You feel that? Huh baby? Who wouldn’t love your beautiful ass,” he grunted as he went deeper.

“Plus size or not I’ma always be able to handle you my baby. This my shit. No one else’s. Mine! Let me show just how good I can handle you baby,” he moaned out as he pulled out of her and grabbed her ankles pulling her to the edge of the bed.

Odell stood and draped her legs over his shoulders sliding back into her. All Nicole could manage to vocalize was a whimper. They were both close to climax as she cried out, “Shit! Baby I-I’m about to-I can’t take much more!”

His thrusts became more erratic and sloppy. “I know baby me too. Shit! Let it go baby,” Odell replied as he reached down and rubbed her pearl to get her there faster. Moments later they both climaxed together.

Odell removed her shaking legs from his shoulders and gently slid her back up to the pillows so she could come down from her orgasm. He collapsed beside her and pulled her over to him so she could lay on his chest. He tilted her chin up and gave her a few pecks. Looking into her eyes he smiled and licked his lips.

“Please don’t ever doubt my love for you. Trust me when I tell you I got you. If I wanna carry ya ass all over a damn grocery store or shopping mall for no reason at all I’m going to do it. I need there to be no questions asked. Understood Mrs. Beckham,” he demanded while slapping her ass.

“Ouch babe! Okay, Mr. Beckham. I love you,” she replied and gave him another kiss.

“I love your stubborn ass too,” he retorted. After a quick nap they went a few more rounds and iced her ankle again before knocking out for the night.

Hope y’all enjoyed it! Thank you so much for reading. Be sure to leave feedback. Comments and re-blogs would are greatly appreciated ♥️.

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mauvecherie-writes · 5 years ago

Text

Working on my next imagine! It’s the first time writing for Odell in a very long time. I’m sooo excited!!!

#odell beckham jr #obj fanfiction #it's gonna be good #it's going to be a little dirty

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aleapoffaithfiction · 6 years ago

Text

XIV.

It's like I've been awakened Every rule I had you break it It's the risk that I'm taking I ain't never gonna shut you out

You ever felt like you’ve been hit by a car, survived it, and as soon as you go to stand on your feet, you end up getting hit by an eighteen-wheeler truck?

No?

Well, that’s how I’ve been feeling since I woke up this morning. I’ve suddenly morphed into a milk chocolate toned dragon who breathes fire from the depths of my chest and straight out of my throat. Every word spoken comes with an excruciating aching that Tylenol refuses to ease. The tea and honey are barely doing anything to subdue the rough cough that began just yesterday. Oh, and the body aches? I might as well just lay down in the middle of the floor and pray the Lord has mercy on me at some point.

“I don’t know how the hell you made it through the entire show like that. You really are crazy sometimes.” Anna pulled my box braids into a high ponytail as I slouched my frame even further down into the styling chair. I’m conning myself into believing that the slump position will give me a few seconds of relief from the aches I’m having.

The chills trickling everywhere have left me shivering under a throw blanket I took from home. If anyone on set didn’t know any better, you’d think I’ve been standing outside in the blistering soon to be winter air. Thank God I sat through the lengthy amount of time to allow her to put the braids in on Saturday night. With the way I’m covered in perspiration, any straightened or curled hairstyle would have left me looking like an extra left out of a Soul Glow commercial.

“It irritates me to have to call out at the last minute. That typically leaves production scrambling to try and fill in gaps. If I were in their shoes, I know it would be a headache for me, so I don’t like to do it to them. On Saturday, I e-mailed both Amy and Chip to let them know that I feel pretty shitty and to clear my schedule for the next two days pending further notice. I’m hoping it passes by then.”

The last time I had a cold, it was right at the very end of winter and it felt like nothing more than a bad headache and the sniffles. A couple of home remedies and a few over the counter products had me feeling much better within two or three days, but what I’m feeling now? I don’t know what the hell is going on. Rite Aid literally showed up to the medical office at the studio and offered the flu shot to everyone, through our insurances, as a curtesy, so it better not be that. I can’t stand getting injections, so it would be one hell of a disservice if I allowed them to inject that medication into me only for it to not work out in my favor.

“Are you going to go to the doctor?”

“Probably tomorrow. It’s too late to do any of that today. Once I drop Taylor off at the airport, I’ll head straight there.” Though I’m so accustomed to living on my own, I can admit to being sadden about Taylor heading out to Los Angeles tomorrow. It’s not that I’ve gotten used to her being around; it’s more so that I’ve enjoyed the company that she’s been to me for the past week. We always have incredible conversations over the phone about the most trivial of topics, but it’s been far more fulfilling and hilarious to be able to say all of those things to one another face to face. We’ve indulged in our love for classic cult black films, shared recipes between one another in my kitchen, and have taken New York City by a storm.

Even with Jesse being in town, it didn’t feel like the presence of her man overshadowed anything that we did together. Ice skating was better than I thought it would be because I was and still am quite rusty in that area. We did see the Radio City Christmas Spectacular and humorously took photographs sitting on Santa’s lap complimentary of the showrunners. Although I’ve seen it more times than I can count, we saw The Lion King on Broadway and then had far too many pitchers of Matusalem rum infused mojitos over at Havana Central on West 46th Street.

I nearly came face to face with the filthy pavement as I moved at the best speed I could offer to avoid the invasive TMZ camera crew awaiting our exit. In Hollywood, I suppose it’s controversial for a woman to be involved with a soon to be divorced television actor while he’s in a discomforting public battle with his soon to be ex-wife over alimony and joint custody of their children. Anywhere she goes, that narrative follows Taylor like a sinister stalker in the night and though her feelings run deep for the blue-eyed Chicago native, I know that she’s quietly growing tired of being the scapegoat for what is beyond her.

“You better go too. I know you. Sipping tea and taking spoons of Robitussin isn’t going to get the job done this time it seems.”

“I’m going. I’m going with a shit ton of questions about why the flu shot is a hoax. I’m not one of those conspiracy theory people, but I don’t know. I might have to start.”

“Take your illuminati ass home and get in the bed.”

“I’m not rich enough to be in the illuminati. They’ll probably be calling me when I make my first hundred million. I’m not there just yet, but I’m working on it.” I wanted to laugh, but I couldn’t. Even a chuckle would have pulled more energy than I can exert at the moment. I’m currently questioning if I’ll even be capable of moving at a snail’s pace to make it out of the building with the next couple of minutes. I could have been gone already and yet I’m lingering around in this chair with hopes that my imagination will take me home. Where’s Glenda the Good Witch to instruct me to click the heels of my Jimmy Choo pumps so that I’ll be able to suddenly wake up in my bed in Edgewater?

“Get you a man that’s there already.” I knew she was going to say that. I just knew it. Anna will never not find it fascinating how I encounter countless men who earn hundreds of millions of dollars by running a ball around a field, court, or course.

In her words, I, more than the majority of the women in the world, have the perfect opportunity to live life lavishly and worry free by the way of someone else’s finances if I’d only open myself up to the opportunity of dating just one out of the many who flirtatiously attempt to garner some interest out of me. While my financial obligations are the last thing that I’m interested in a man handling for me, if only Anna knew what is going on in my life now.

“Yeah? So that he can think he’s entitled to stress me and all of his other women out because he’s providing materialistic shit? Girl, I refuse to allow a man to turn my head grey and cause bags to be up under my eyes sooner than it should be happening. No thanks. I’d rather be smiling in a Benz that I purchased than to be crying in one that he did.”

I’m naturally a giver. I give credit to my dad for instilling that quality into me. I’ve always struggling with taking or rather being gifted things. The majority of the time, all I wanted for birthdays and Christmas’ were new accessories needed for whatever sport I was playing at the time.

I never pestered either one of my parents to lace me in the latest Jordans, although my dad made sure to surprise me with them at least once a month. If he was due to leave town, he would leave enough money for my mother to handle it. Honor roll report cards always came with great gifts and while Celeste would often ask for the most expressive girly trinket she could think of, I never wanted anything. I was fine with a stack of pancakes from iHop and a day at the park.

What I did ask for was experiences. It never needed to be anything financially burdening or something that specifically catered to my taste alone. I was fine with exploring new exhibits at the Met or taking a random road trip to Philadelphia just for the hell of it. I loved walking around neighborhoods that I didn’t reside in to people watch and observe the different ways in which they express themselves and the culture that we all share.

I’ll never forget when we road on an Amtrak train to Washington, DC and stayed in the district for the weekend. I still consider that to be one of the best times of my life despite my sister’s ridiculous and pompous complaints about her boredom. Though she’s yet to admit it out loud, I know that she now undoubtedly regrets all that she said during that weekend because it was the last family trip, we ever had with him.

“All of his other women? Damn. Why did you have to put it like that?”

“Because men are vile creatures. If women are walking around talking about how much average men aren’t worth shit due to their antics, then use your imagination to think about what men with money and power are doing. I’m not saying all of them are dreadful, but I’ve heard far too much while working within this industry to write it all off as coincidences.” The last portion of my sentence barely made it out as my chest heaved up a rough cough. The furnace that only calmed for a mere couple of seconds ignited with a wild fire and sent a rush of warmth flushing through my chest while the rest of my weakening limps shivered.

“Okay, you need to go, because I’m not trying to get sick. You may not have any dick in your life at the moment, but I do, and I’m trying to get back to it with my health intact.”

“Whatever.”

Like a boxer in a ring attempting to peel himself off of the floor after a knockout, I pulled myself up and out of the comfort of the chair. With every step, my muscles stiffened and the aches throbbing from the sides of my body intensified unexpectedly. My Alexander Wang bag felt like a dozen bricks rested at it’s very bottom once I positioned it over my shoulder and it only slowed down my stride as I made my way to the awaiting SUV.

I could only silently thank God for Fred as he secured me inside the vehicle and warned me that he better not see me in the morning. Thankfully, I followed my gut and decided not to drive. If I were sitting in this parking lot in my own car at this very moment, I probably would have taken off this midnight black Moncler coat and used it as a blanket while I lay in the backseat awaiting a rescue that I never called for.

“Can you please turn up the heat just a bit more?” I’m sure I’m suffocating him but I can’t help that it feels like the temperature precipitously plummeted to ten degrees below zero. The sound of my teeth chattering against one another has surpassed the faint tunes coming from the radio.

“Sure, Ms. Nazaire.”

As the heat increased and swarmed me in the manner that I needed it to, I glanced down at my phone vibrating in my lap. The lone heart emoji was a clear signifier of who was attempting to contact me. He’s the only person in my phone not identified by his name and at this point, it is the most idiotic tactic to keep because I have more than enough photographs of him and the both of us together to implicate me in whatever may happen if we’re caught.

As soon as I slid my thumb across the bottom of the screen to answer, the splendor that is his face filled the frame of my screen. And just like that, I’d been reduced to speechlessness.

“I thought I told you not go to work this morning.” I certainly read the text message as soon as I opened my eyes this morning, but it did absolutely nothing to deter me from doing what I had to do. It was great advice but it had to be brushed off until I handled a number of things at the production studio this morning. Besides, it wasn’t as rough of a day as I thought it would be, effort wise. Aside from speaking throughout segments, we had no guests or anything major to cover.

“I’m staying home tomorrow. Also, look at how early I’m leaving today. It’s still the afternoon. I’m not doing the Podcast.”

The slight shaking of his head was brief and though he quickly stopped, I noticed it. I’m not sure if it’s in reference to this morning’s chosen defiance or the current state of frustration we’re both in for two totally different reasons. Despite my explanation about my occasional absentmindedness being a part of the reason why I needed to hurry home and write out a check for the nine-a.m. maintenance job my mother called to have done on her stove, I omitted the part that truly mattered most to the both of us.

I fear him.

My mind is with him whenever I’m not within his presence. My body yearns for the warmth that soothingly radiates from him whenever we’re within an inch of one another. I can eerily sense and feel him; emotionally and now physically. He evokes a sentiment within me that is at call unceasingly and has intertwined our lives in a manner that I never faced before or expected to come into my life at this point.

My body is now at his mercy. Just the tips of his fingers faintly grazing off the smooth surface of my skin awakens every aspect of me; sending my frame into an uncontrollable frenzy that only he knows how to tame. I don’t know what he did to me that night in New Orleans. I expected to be fucked; most men prefer to turn a woman over on her stomach to consciously strip away any intimacy that may be felt and emotionally clung to during and after those moments when their bodies are adjoined. Despite his unpredictable nature, I did cling to that repeated experience as something that I’d always endure. I should have known that what we shared would be everything but that.

He savored me; deliberately drawing out every single second of it in an effort to achieve a never-ending wordless oath that we’ll never be able to share with anyone else. His eyes bore into mine and spoke to me whenever his lips weren’t whispering into my ear in the midst of the groans spilling from them. My body clung to his, gratifying his silent plea to take possession of me in every way possible.

Our heartbeats created an identical medley as they thrashed against our chests in unison with the increase heat within our cores. I was no longer in control of myself. His flesh played as the remote; pushing buttons to leave me weeping and leaking. I believe I only slept for minutes. Though the clock read that it had been four hours later, it only felt like minutes because the feeling of him hadn’t subsided. If anything, he served as the gasoline to the flames as his tongue awakened me for what turned into another two rounds of him.

I am wordlessly at war with my evolving devotion to him; to us. What if I’m not enough? With the life that he lives, something better always comes along. What am I supposed to do when we’ve arrived to that point?

“You’re so hardheaded. You going out into the cold and being at work all day has most likely made your cold worse. You should have stayed in the bed today. Did you just leave?”

“A few minutes ago.”

“How do you feel?” He tugged on the neck of his hooded Givenchy sweater to loosen it’s pulled tightness around his neck and almond shaped eyes narrowed, intensifying his glare. He’d pull my card if I lied.

“Like shit, honesty. Everything hurts. It even hurts to breathe. I thought I’d be able to tough it out until I can see a doctor tomorrow, but I don’t know. I might have Taylor drive me over to Hackensack University Medical Center when I get home.” And just like that, he sat up from his lazy and laxed position on the couch. As his large palm brushed over the golden curls falling all over his forehead, he stood to his feet. He paces when he’s nervous but it was never my intention to provoke him to do so.

“You feel that bad? You want me to go with you?”

“Odell.” As great as that sounds, I shouldn’t have to explain why that can’t be. He already knows the answer to that.

“You’re going to the hospital.”

“Yes, so that I can speed up the process of getting some medication. I’ll be able to get prescriptions tonight rather than waiting until tomorrow. That’s all. It’s going to be an in and out thing. Also, you have an event tonight. Did you forget?” He’s heading into Manhattan to promote the launch of his Air Force I collaboration by speaking with fans and a couple of groups of kids who won a contest to be able to meet him and have their shoes autographed. I know he doesn’t want to miss that because being a great role model for the youth is one of the primary reasons why he does what he does. He loves kids, so disappointing them for no legit reason doesn’t make much sense.

“I didn’t forget. If I don’t go, the least I can do is come and stay at your house so that I can make sure you’re taken care of until you’re better.”

“And spread my germs to you?”

“What is it with you and your love for being difficult? You hate to cooperate.” I’ve heard that before. Actually, I’ve heard it far too many times. It’s been said that I have an answer for everything before even hearing the complete scenario or question being asked of me. I can be somewhat of an overthinker. Well, not somewhat.

I am an overthinker, but I’m not admitting that out loud because it’ll give people the ammunition to call me out on it whenever they feel like it and I’m not with the shits. It is never my intention to do it to be difficult or uncooperative as he just called it. I tend to try and side with logic first before I jump into anything. Unnecessarily spreading my germs isn’t logical. Besides, I tend to go and lay up at my mom’s place whenever I’m not feeling my greatest. She doesn’t always welcome me with open arms, but ultimately, who else do I have to lean on despite her resistance about that?

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is. It’s annoying as hell too.” He rolled his eyes to put even more emphasis on what he had to say.

“If you come, don’t complain when you start sniffling and feeling like every part of your body is aching.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll take the risk.”

“What time does your event start?” I nearly dropped the phone down onto the carpeted flooring as another rough cough poured out of me. I’m convinced my lungs are going to suddenly fly out of my mouth and land in my lap.

“You sound really bad.”

“I know. What time does the event start?”

“Seven.”

“Oh, you have time. I can’t believe I caught this stupid cold. I was supposed to start my Christmas shopping this weekend. Speaking of, what do you want?” I’ve been trying to think of gifts for him. There’s one in particular that I already have hiding in my closet. I consider that one to be the big gift.

Patek Philippe is a family-owned Genevan luxury watch manufacturer. Their watches are considered to be among the best in the world: full stop. Of all of the other impeccable Swiss watch manufactures with distinguished statuses and sophisticated watches, Patek Philippe has driven itself to the forefront of them all. While it would have been much easier to purchase him a Rolex, he deserves something that is as inimitable as he is. The “Ribbon Joaillerie” watch and its distinctive diamond embellishments that orbit its surface in a glimmering never-ending loop stole my heart as soon as I laid my eyes on it. The spiraling circles of diamonds beautifying the dial was what immediately made me hand over my Citigroup Chairman Card to secure it. It’s the first time I’ve ever spent six figures on a man.

“Supreme stuff. It doesn’t have to be any specific item. Oh, and maybe some art or something.”

“Art or something? Like a painting or a sculpture?”

“Anything. Actually, I want it to be a picture of you. A painting or something of that sort.”

“A painting of me? Are you kidding me?” That’s arguably the most narcissistic gift I could ever give anyone. I can only imagine how much internal cringing I’d be doing while boldly requesting for a painting of myself to gift to be my man. Actually, a canvas painting of Heather, Jazzy, and himself together would be breathtaking. I love that idea so much more.

“No. I’d love that.”

“And where exactly are you going to hang it up? You currently have a camera crew in your house once a week.” He is presently in the midst of filming a docu-series with Lebron James and Maverick Carter’s sports-media company Uninterrupted. Though the majority of it will focus on his comeback throughout the next season, they are filming coverage of his recovery from the ankle injury and his life off of the gridiron.

“In my bedroom. They don’t go in there.”

“We’ll see.”

“Ain’t no we’ll see. That’s what I want. Oh, and you in one of those sexy ass Mrs. Claus outfits.”

“Okay, I’m hanging up now.” I’m not sure if the driver is focusing on our conversation, but if he is, I’m certainly embarrassed now. His laughter might have made it even worse.

“I’ll call and check on you in a bit.”

“Okay.”

I attempted to take a nap but the physical discomfort served as a disruption to my mental state and kept me awake the remainder of the ride to my home. Traffic wasn’t as disorderly as it usually is during this time of the day, which allowed me to arrive just fifteen minutes over the nearly two-hour timeframe that it’s supposed to take me to get into Edgewater.

“You’re finally home!”

The way Taylor’s voice vibrated off of the walls almost made it seem like my house is completely empty. It was so piercing.

“Yeah.”

I’m not sure what she decided to cook but it smelled appetizing from the moment I stepped into the door. Maybe it’s Italian.

“I watched a bit of the show before making a Whole Foods run. Oh, and I found this bottle of wine upstairs in your room. I hope you don’t mind, because I couldn’t resist.” It was one of the remaining bottles of wine Odell bought me during our weekend getaway. I decided to pack it and take it home.

“You’re drunk?” That’s the last thing that I need her to be.

“I wouldn’t say drunk. I’m feeling pretty good though. Incredible, actually.”

She’s drunk.

“I want you to come with me to the ER, so that I can get checked out for this cold and get prescriptions for it. I wanted you to drive but since you had drinks, I’ll do it.”

“You feel that bad? Oh my God.”

“I’d just rather go now instead of waiting to go to the doctors tomorrow.”

“Let’s go. I just have to grab my coat. I told you to stay home this morning.” If I had the energy, I would have gone upstairs to change into whatever sweatsuit within close reach but I’m not walking up there. I’ve barely stepped away from the door.

“Taylor.” Part of her hazelnut toned wool trench coat hung off of her body as she rushed in my direction. As I nodded my head in the direction of the wine glass in her hand, she took a glance at it.

“Oh.” Before she put it down, the remaining contents inside of it went down her throat. If we both weren’t notorious for finishing entire bottles of wine on our own, I would have thought that something stressful or a man were driving her to drink so heavily today.

You good?

I read the message as I stood at the very top of my porch.

Yeah. Headed there now. Taylor’s drunk, so I’m going to drive.

Of all the days for her to get drunk, it just had to be this one.

Drunk? The sun hasn’t even gone down yet. I’m just going to meet you there.

As I slid into the passenger seat, apprehension immediately caused my eyes to bulge out of my face. His stubbornness will probably be the one thing that’ll always make me want to reprimand him.

You better not.

I-80 West was the fasted route. It took me to Exit 64B within seven minutes. As we walked through the parking lot, I slipped Taylor one of the cough drops I had in my pocket so they wouldn’t frown upon the whiff of the alcohol oozing from her breath any time she opened her mouth up to speak and I sprayed her coat with the mini bottle of perfume I keep in my purse to further mask it.

It’s very seldom that I use my status as a trump card for perks. Often times, it just happens and I go along with the flow. In this case, I used it. One autograph for the registration clerk served as a fast pass through the paperwork to process me through the emergency room and straight into triage. The hundred and two fever and slightly raised blood pressure rose the severity of my flu like symptoms to somewhat of an urgent case though I’d beg to differ. Luckily for me, the examination room was built to only fit two patients and thus far, I’m the only one in it.

“Did you see that bald guy nurse?”

“What bald nurse?”

“The one who walked past us out in the hallway. I’m not even into bald guys but he’s hot.” Like a child in a store, her curiosity kept her out of the seat next to the bed, and urged her to walk around examining everything in sight. Though she didn’t touch much, she looked on and read off whatever she thought I’d be just as interested in knowing about. Now I think she’s starting to see shit, because there was no bald nurse in that hall way. If she’s talking about who I assume she’s saw, that was a woman.

“Right in here?”

That voice couldn’t be mistaken no matter how much I desired to be hallucinating in a reaction to whatever drug they intend to give me for the pain I’m feeling. It’s that soft depth filled tone that plays like the sweetest medley in my dreams when I’m resting and fills my thoughts at random moments throughout the day when I am diligently executing every task on my schedule. It evokes chills and a throbbing within my center that nears me to the point of erupting.

I could choke him right now.

Behind a visibly annoyed Ben, he appeared in the doorway barely discreet in his black and vivid yellow attire. The Supreme beanie on his head barely covered his signature platinum blonde curls and casual dreads as they loosely hung out of the very front of it. His light caramel skin was without a single blemish as it always is.

God, he’s beautiful.

“Hey, big sister Sarai. I heard my favorite sister was in the hospital and I rushed here right away. I was hanging out with my boy, so I figured I’d bring him with me.” Both of my eyebrows rose as my head dropped back. Ben slowly panned his eyes to Odell and instantly rolled them in response to the nonchalant shrugging of his broad shoulders. What the hell is he talking about?

“Ben told them he was your brother so we could get in. I mean, it was either that or I was gon’ say that I’m your husband.”

“I’m going to fuck you up. You do know that, right?” If I had the energy, I would do it right now. His rebelliousness is absolutely pointless within this moment. It’s a trait that I’ve always admired about him from afar and now that admiration is coming back like a thief in the night to haunt me.

“I’m so confused. Maybe I’m a little drunker than I thought. What are you two doing here?” Taylor wagged her finger like a scolding mother as she twisted her head back and forth to take in the additional presence within the room. I had no set date or specific timeframe for when I intended to explain what’s been going on to her, but I planned to do it at some point. We share just about everything but I’m still trying to navigate all of this and figure it out on my own, which is why I’m purposefully avoiding any additional opinions.

“I’m going to sit in the car. Ya’ll two motherfuckers are annoying with this sneaking shit.” The hint of playfulness in his tone did not match the expression on his face. While my lover found it to be all so hilarious, a confused Taylor glared at me with a questioning expression that I did not want to have to answer to. I never thought I’d ever say it, but I was sad to see Ben walk out. If anything, I needed him to remain in place to be the comedic relief or better yet the distraction from the verbal questionnaire that is sure to come from my friend.

“The doctor came in here yet? What did he say?” As his large palm meshed into my forehead to serve as his own personal thermometer, I smacked it out of my way.

“Why don’t you listen?”

“I told you that I was coming. Don’t act surprised.”

“And I told you not to come.”

“And I didn’t listen. What’s next?” My frustration rose with every word that slipped past his supple lips.

“Since when are ya’ll such close friends? Like three months ago, you were ready to argue with me about why you two couldn’t be cool and now you’re the best of friends? What?” She finally flopped down in the chair that was in place for her to relax in and she looked on between the two of us as if we were two guilty souls. I may be the only guilty one.

“Sarai Nazaire?” A middle-aged white woman donning blue scrubs and a white lab coat cheerily entered the room with a chart in her hand and a stethoscope loosely hanging around her neck. I faintly raised my hand to single myself out so she wouldn’t confuse me with Taylor.

“I’m Dr. Shepard.”

“Oh snap. Like Grey’s Anatomy?” Why did I bring Taylor?

“Yes, just like that. I get that all the time. I’m not Meredith though. I’m Dr. Jane Shepard.”

“Nice to meet you Dr. Shepard.” I didn’t extend my hand to her because hers aren’t gloved and I’ve been using mine to cover my mouth during the coughing spells.

“So, it says here that you’ve been having flu like symptoms. I see the hundred and two fever. You’re visibly sweating. Tell me anything else you’re been feeling and for how long.”

“I start feeling sick a few days ago and it just got progressively worse. I feel chills, aching muscles, fatigue, a horrible headache, my nose is stuff up.”

“Don’t forget the sore throat, baby.” I was getting to it before he interrupted.

“Baby?” Oh my God. I should have let her finish off the rest of that bottle without any interruptions.

“Have you been taking anything?”

“Tylenol and cold medication. Robitussin DM.”

“Anything else?”

“No.”

“I’m going to take a listen to your lungs. You mind unbuttoning your blouse for me?”

“No.” Odell reached his hands in for the small buttons on the Zara dress shirt covering the upper portion of me and I rapidly smacked his hands down.

She only needed me to unravel the first few buttons so she’d be able to easily reach her hand down into my top to access my chest and back.

“You’re definitely congested. Are you allergic to any medications?”

“No.”

“Based upon the date of your last period, I have to ask, do you think that you could be pregnant right now?”

“Oh, dear God no. Absolutely not.” Taylor’s abrupt answer and laughter was nearly condescending. We’ve had far too many conversations about kids being something we’ll worry about later on down the line because we have so many aspirations that we’re working towards accomplishing now.

If a sewing needle suddenly dropped onto the floor, it would have sounded off like a vibrant bass within a stadium due to the stillness within the room. All eyes panned down on me while I had every urge to unexpectedly combust into a gust of nothingness so that I wouldn’t have to expose the anxiety I’ve been dealing with since we boarded the private jet to leave New Orleans.

My periods have always been slightly irregular and may sometimes skip a month, but God only knows how much I did not need one of those skips to happen this month. I haven’t been on birth control in three years. I decided to stop taking the pill because I had no use for it anymore and wanted to regulate my hormones and cycles. It’s been smooth sailing ever since because I haven’t had any men in my bed and I haven’t been in any of theirs until now. I’ve always been careful. Always. Even with the few years I spent in a relationship, I’ve never had unprotected sex until I shared my body with the man sitting at the foot of this bed.

“I….”

What was once one set of questioning eyes, turned into three, but all I could focus on was his. I awaited the grimace, but it never showed itself within his facial expression. Much like everyone else, he was awaiting the answer that would involve his fate just as much as it would mine.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. I’m just not one hundred percent sure.”

And there it is. My reality. I truly don’t know. I’ve driven past a few Walgreens, Rite Aid, and CVS stores since it all happened and my lack of courage kept me from going inside to purchase what would give me a verdict to either ease or intensify the stress. Back in Louisiana, what should have been a trip to a pharmacy for a Morning After pill when the sun began peaking beyond the curtains and cascading down on us turned into yet another escapade of him filling me again.

“Okay, what the fuck is going on?”

“Taylor!”

“That’s not a problem. We’ll collect a urine sample to measure your HCG level. It’ll be quick. A nurse should be in the room within the next two minutes or so with a cup. It’s just protocol so that we’re on the safe side when administering medication to you. She’s also going to do a rapid influenza test so that we can verify those flu symptoms you’re having. Your symptoms align with it, but we still have to run the test. She’s going to swab the back of your nose.”

“Okay.”

“In the meantime, just relax. Once we get the results back, we’ll proceed from there. Sounds good?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.”

The nurse couldn’t come with the plastic cup fast enough. I nearly fell onto the floor as I leapt out of the bed once she did. Locking myself in the bathroom is what eased the spell of anxiety being triggered by all eyes focusing in on me. What should have been a two to three-minute process turned into fifteen as I sat there wallowing in my thoughts. I never wanted my apprehension to be on display in front of him. I didn’t need any of what I’ve been dealing with being a conversation until it was absolutely necessary.

“You okay baby?” His knock was light but I could undoubtedly sense his urgency.

“I’m fine.” It’s far too late to hide now.

“The nurse is back. You want me to give the cup to her?” This man wants me to hand over a sample of my urine to him? Seriously?”

“No. I’m coming out.”

Once I handled the hygienic aspect of things, I finally stepped out of the bathroom with the cup wrapped into two pieces of paper towel and I timidly handed it over to the nurse. Once I was seated again, she swabbed my nose just as the doctor informed me, she would.

“Thank you. I’ll be quick.”

I wished she would have offered to take me with her. I wouldn’t have minded walking to whatever laboratory that she’s going to drop that off to.

“How long has this been going on?”

Her lean leg crossed over the other and Taylor sat back with a knowing smirk on her face. Her haughtiness in figuring out the obvious would have been hilarious at some other time.

“Months.” His answer came with a shrug. His tone was so blasé that it nearly made it seem like the entire world knows about this and she’s the only one who’s late to the party.

“Months? You hid this for months?”

“T, can we have the room for just a minute or two?”

“So, you can talk about your baby?” The lingering headache seemed to strengthen at what she thought was some sardonic joke. Her irritation about being left in the dark is justified but now is not the time to admonish everything that I am. I’d rather she stand before me and release her frustrations in a private setting and away from him.

“Taylor, please?”

“I’ll go. I’m going to the waiting room. While there, should I think about baby shower themes? Maybe Tinkerbell if it’s a girl and Finding Nemo if it’s a boy? Oh no. I know. A New York Giants theme sounds so much better; a little cliché but better.”

“Taylor.”

“I’m going.”

She tenaciously cut her eyes at Odell sparking laughter from him in response.

“Cute though. Really cute.”

Those were her last words as she disappeared down the hall, finally leaving us in the privacy that I needed. The lack of commotion in the hallway kept my attention focused on his striking face. I thought I would have seen a rush of nurses running a gurney down the long hall and into emergency surgery. If not that, then maybe a crying baby and a fretted mother who can’t seem to figure out why her child has been crying all night long. I need a distraction

“I don’t want you to be upset with me. I should have been more careful. I…”

“Sarai. Upset with you about what? The unknown? I’m not upset with you. I’m not upset at all. I’m here. I’m right here with you. It’s not just you.”

“I know but…”

“What’s the but for? Whatever happens, happens. We’ll be fine.” Will we be? I don’t believe I’m with child but hypothetically speaking, what happens if I am? How do I explain a sudden pregnancy to a man that no one knows about? I am not Mary and this is not the Immaculate Conception. How do we navigate still being in the stages of exploring and learning all there is to know about one another while preparing to be parents to a child that we did not plan?

Both of his hands reached for my thighs. This time, I had no energy to smack them away as they began a pacifying caress. I just want to go to sleep. Is that too much to ask for? In the midst of what should be a temporary illness, the weight of erratic decisions rests on my shoulders and is further deteriorating my mood. He’s in the prime of his life. If people aren’t talking about Tom Brady, they’re talking about him. He’s not ready for any of this. He doesn’t need this.

“Relax.”

“What?”

“You keep tensing up. I can feel it. Relax.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

If it were, I would have already been home sleeping.

“It’s as simple as we want it to be. I don’t mind being your Big Daddy and someone else’s daddy. It’s cool with me. A kid that looks like us? We can both retire now and use the kid for money. Plus, we’re both athletic, so our kid is bound to be a pro athlete. Yeah, our retirement plan is set.” Every muscle within my upper core clenched to an unbearable tightness and yet I laughed anyway. With my mouth being open, I know I’m sharing every bit of this virus with him. However, his words tickled me in a manner that I needed. I haven’t laughed all day long. If anyone is more than capable of making me do so, it’s him.

“My what?”

“Your Big Daddy.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You sound like Stephen A. Smith. Ridiculous. Conspicuous. Prosperous. Expeditiously. He’s forever using some unnecessarily big word to describe his frustrations.” The joke about my fellow ESPN brethren amused me even more. He is absolutely right and it’s what we all love about Stephen A. He’s animated, exaggerated, and his outbursts about the eternally cursed New York Knicks will stand the test of time for sports fans. I constantly have a good laugh when I stop by his dressing room for conversations. He’s been a mentor to me from the moment we’ve met and my admiration for him is boundless.

“Don’t talk about Stephen A. He’s great.”

“He stays on my ass though. He tends to be hot and cold with me. One minute, he’s praising my talent and in the next breath, he’s tired of me.”

“He appreciates you. I promise you that. Steven A. is tough, but he believes you’re the heart of the team. It’s why he can be so critical.”

“I watched the discussion ya’ll had about my pending contract situation. You really think I should be the highest paid receiver?” He’s the most explosive one.

“We can make arguments about Antonio Brown and Julio Jones, but when people think of wide receivers, your name is the first name to come out of most people’s mouths. You have the highest selling jersey of any receiver in the league and you’re the one who fills those seats at the Giants stadium. You have been the heart of the team’s offense for the past three years. Prior to your injury, they averaged twenty-three points in three games when you were on the field for the most snaps. They averaged thirteen point six points when you weren’t out there. You’re worth almost ten points per game with your ability to take a short gain and turn it into a long touchdown. Teams literally run their defenses strictly off stopping you. Get paid. You deserve it.”

All I could see is pearly white porcelain as his eyes further narrowed the more his smile spread across his face. As soon as he leaned in for a kiss, I drew my head back.

“Germs.”

“The way you know your shit is sexy as fuck. You want my last name?”

“Shut up, you…”

Dr. Shepard stepping back into the room ceased my reply. And just like that, my nerves were rattled all over again.

“Well, the pregnancy test is negative. Flu test is positive. I’m not sure which way you wanted those results to go, but that’s the verdict.” I know it was supposed to be witty but it didn’t register as such as I signed in a relief that wasn’t as fulfilling as I thought it would be. No, I’m not ready to be a mother. I’m not in that space just yet. More than anything, what I’m now focused on is the person who would have been alongside me in the journey if the results were the opposite. I would not have been alone. I commend him for that.

“I got a flu shot.”

“When did you get it?”

“A little less than two weeks ago.”

“It takes the body about two weeks after the vaccination to develop immune protection. You probably were exposed to influenza viruses sometime since then. Also, there are different strains of the flu. The vaccination only protects you against certain ones. You may have been exposed to one that is very different from whatever ones the vaccination is designed to protect you against.”

“Well screw whoever was around me and had been sick.” She and my man shared laughter at my words.

I’m serious.

“We’re going to give you Tamiflu. The directions on how to take it will be in your discharge instructions and the pharmacy will give you some too. You can take Tylenol for the fever. Rest. You need a lot of that. No work for a couple of days because you have a ton of germs right now. Hot foods and drinks. Steamy showers will help with congestion and the stuffy nose. Vitamin C is great, so orange juice and they have the cough drop like ones. I emphasize rest. Getting rid of the flu is really a waiting game.”

“You hear that Sarai? Rest. Lots of rest.” If I had no class, my middle finger would have been up and towards him.

“If you feel like your symptoms are persisting, come back.”

“Thank you, Dr. Shepard.”

“The pleasure is all mine. The nurse will be back with the forms and prescriptions.”

As soon as we were left alone again, I immediately slipped back into my coat for much needed warmth.

“I’m about to head out so I can make it into the city on time. Are you going to be okay?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sending Renee over so that she can make you some soup or something. So, be expecting her. You need something from the store?”

“I can make the soup myself.”

“Anything you need from the store?” See? This is what I mean.

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Alright, so I’ll see you when I get back. Be in the bed.”

“Uhm.” He knew I’d swerve his lips, so he softly planted his kisses on my warm forehead.

“See you in a bit.”

The nightfall car ride to Walgreens and finally to my home entailed of more conversing than I wanted to have. I was nearly ordered to confirm and deny many of her assumptions, feed into her baseless jokes about a baby that she now knows is non-existent, and defend myself against my supposed lying by omission as we spoke on the phone while I was away. She then proceeded to take credit for our relationship; citing the Bleacher Report party run in as all being a part of her master plan. I beg to differ. I still think it’s a coincidence that he saw me there, but I’ll let her run with that fairytale if it makes her feel better and keeps her off of my case.

“I’m going to lay down.”

“As you should. It’s not like you have to do anything anyway. Your man’s chef is currently making you tea and soup.”

“Taylor.”

“And he arranged for a driver to take me to the airport tomorrow so that you don’t have to get out of bed.”

“Taylor.”

“And he shoots up your club.”

“You know what, goodnight Taylor.”

Lavender; I doused everything in it. I lathered my body up with Dove’s Purely Pampering Relaxing Body Wash while in the shower and spent an extended time inhaling the steam to loosen my nasal passages. Once I was dried off, I moisturized my skin with whipped shea butter fused with lavender essential oil. I lit a match to my Joe Malone London Lavender & Lovage candle, and finally sprayed my pillow cases with Bath & Body Works lavender pillow spray. If I don’t get the best sleep of my life after all of that, I’ll know that I’m suffering from insomnia.

Renee’s coconut ginger carrot chicken soup and the cup of ginger tea certainly made me think of my mother because it’s her key remedy for illnesses. The rich flavoring and natural spice of the ginger eased the congestion discomfort in my chest.

I opted out of the television because it would only deserve as a distraction to the rest, I not only needed but wanted. Unfortunately, what I thought was going to be a long night of slumber ended up being nothing more than on and off naps.

Bergamot, cedar musk, and hints of sage superseded the rest inducing scent that once filled my room. With only a hint of moonlight peaking beyond the white curtain, the man of my affection quietly dropped what appeared to be a duffle bag onto the floor and began to shuffle around the open space within my bedroom to sort himself out.

“I’m not sleeping.” His pace was slower than his usual because he didn’t want to ruin whatever sleep he assumed I was getting.

“You should be.”

“I keep taking naps.”

“You hungry or something?”

“No. Not really. You?”

“I’m good. There’s more than just soup downstairs. I had something before I came up.”

“How was the event?”

“It was nice. The kids were great. They enjoyed themselves.” With every piece of jewelry that he removed; I could hear it clinking against the dresser as he placed them down one by one. “You smell great.”

“Thank you.” I love when he chuckles. It’s so lighthearted and innocent, especially following a compliment. I always want to hug him right after. It’s no different now.

“You look good too.” Yellow against his skin is defining. The whole time he sat with me in that examination room, I couldn’t look away. Even in this darkness, I still cannot do so. My body is riddled with a confusion that I cannot define. I can feel every single flu symptom there is and yet, my nipples are impulsively stiffening against this t-shirt of his that I’m wearing. The prickling in my thighs is increasing with every article of clothing that he removes. I should make him go into the guest room.

“Thank you. Go to sleep.”

“I’m trying.”

His presence kept my eyes open and trailing behind his every move until his almost bare frame slid under the covers and alongside me. I’ve warned him more times than I can count about my germs and yet here he is, basking in them.

“Thank you.”

As he always does when he’s in my bed, he took two of the pillows on his side and tossed them towards my side to lower himself to his liking. I’ve always been someone who loves to lay on way too many of them. It’s probably why I wake up with neck pain every once and a while.

“For what?”

“Taking care of me today.”

“You’re stubborn as hell but it’s what I want to do. It’s my pleasure.”

“Thank you for dealing with my stubbornness too.”

“Of course, baby.”

“And thank you for that yellow coat because I’m keeping it.” That amused him.

“You can have it.”

“Can I have a kiss too?”

“Nah. Germs.”

I used one of the pillows he tossed to whack him in the head. How is he so adorable and maddening all at once?

“Hey, Sarai.”

“Hm?”

His arm extended and slowly snaked around my waist to draw me closer. The skin of his legs melted into mine as they intertwined.

“No Beckham babies today, but later on down the line, for sure, right?”

Beckham babies. Plural. Maybe two boys? Possible two girls? How about the best of both worlds? More than two is out of the question. Twins would ideal. It’s a one shot and done, deal. Actually, no. Two at one time sounds like madness. The genes are strong within his family. I don’t think they stand a chance of genetically inheriting any of my traits. I’ll literally be birthing clones of him in either male or female form. It’s hilarious and yet warming to ponder about.

“Right.”

His lips then met mine.

#odell beckham jr fanfic #odell beckham fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #fan fic #obj fanfic

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aleapoffaithfiction · 6 years ago

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"Love is not all about loving everything perfect, it is when someones corrosive nature is the only thing that glues you to them which you wished it were never there." ― Michael Bassey Johnson

“I heard you the first time ma.”

Curtains and dinnerware. She’d been going on and on about the need for both for nearly thirty minutes. I’d have to question my own mental capacity if I hadn’t remembered it. With the first day of fall already over two weeks behind us, she complained about the need to change all of the pale coral drapes in the house to be in accord with the season. She raved about multiple shades of red being the perfect color palette for the Brooklyn townhome she resides in but eventually changed her mind by randomly blurting out that it’s too early for things to be so Christmas-y and instead opted for brunt orange. As for the dinnerware, it specifically has to be the nearly five hundred-dollar twenty-piece lace gold Vera Wang Wedgwood set that she fell in love at Bed Bath & Beyond.

It took every ounce of energy I had left within me to get off of the couch, change my clothing, and drive over here per her request after an extremely loaded day at work, so the last thing I want to hear about is her trivial needs and yet...here we are.

“Well, I know it’ll be like pulling teeth to get you over here any other day this week, so maybe we can do a little shopping this weekend. We can pick up Celeste and take that new car of yours for a good drive around the city or maybe we can head back your way so that I can go to Walmart.” Or she and Celeste can take either one of their cars and go on their boring shopping trip without me. With mommy’s early retirement and Celeste’s somewhat loose schedule with her counseling and life coaching career, the both of them have more than enough time to be in and out of stores for the sake of having something to do.

Every now and then, they’ll pester me into joining them for the sake of the three of us spending time together, but I usually dread it. They’re the slow, look at anything and everything for no logical reason, shoppers who slowly stroll around the stores while discussing the most trivial things. And me? I’m usually trailing behind them while huffing and puffing in annoyance at it all. Celeste always deems me to be the annoying little sister who throws a tantrum when everyone isn’t doing what she wants whenever I react in that manner and I always let her know that she can kiss my black ass every single time she says it. There’s a lot more I can be doing on a Saturday besides walking around Walmart and looking at the same ol’ shit.

“Yeah, I guess so.” As she wiped her counter top in the kitchen, I broke off another piece of the piña colada pound cake she made with my fingers and dropped it into my mouth. Per the usual, the flavoring and moisture was to perfection.

“I know I thought you better than that. The spoon is right there.” I let that go in one ear and right out of the other. The only way I’d be using that spoon is if she had some vanilla ice cream to go with this cake and she doesn’t, because it’s the first thing I checked for when I arrived. She only has butter pecan. What is it with older people and butter pecan ice cream anyway?

“Are you still going back home for auntie Shelly’s birthday or are you still thinking about it?” She immediately scoffed with a roll of her eyes and began to fold up the wet kitchen towel so that she could toss it behind the faucet as she always does when she’s finished wiping the counters.

“I’ll probably be there. She’s yet to stop calling and getting on my damn nerves about it. I’ve never known anyone to be more obsessed with their birthday than Shelly. You’d think that she’s turning twenty-one years old with the way she’s carrying on. Oh, and then there’s the part about her wanting a Gucci bag as a gift. She has a lot of damn nerve. Why do people automatically assume because you live in America, that you’re made of money?” And just like that, with her frustration, came her Trinidadian accent in full swing. Though they’re only two years apart in age, both mommy and auntie Shelly clash like no other and yet will give you hell if you dare to test either one of them. Even with the complaints, I won’t be surprised when she flies to Trinidad with that Gucci bag packed with her belongings because she plays the big sister role well and spoils auntie no matter how much she nags about her ridiculous requests. My grandmother, Auntie Shelly, and mommy migrated to the United States when mommy was seventeen and though she’s been here ever since, Auntie Shelly moved back to Trinidad to be with her now husband, Uncle Winston. Supposedly, mommy dated Uncle Winston first and that’s what caused their clashing ways, but that’s a story that I’ve never cared to look into. That skeleton and whatever else involves it, can remain in the closet.

“Because people stereotype. It’s a part of life.” And that’s the truth. You won’t believe how many family members believe my bank accounts are on Oprah levels because my face is on television five days a week. I dread family events for that very reason. I’m all for putting my people on and have definitely extended a helping hand for the sake of granting people opportunities but there are so many people who have no interest in working their way up to where they want to be in life. How do you expect to be somewhere in life without a foundation under you? More than anything or anyone else, the esteem you have for yourself after having busted your ass for an achievement is magical.

“Celeste said that she’d fly down with me for the birthday party if I do decide to go. Why don’t you come too? It’ll be a nice getaway for you and I’ll be able to have both of my children with me.”

“It all depends on the scheduling. I have to warn them weeks ahead if I decide to take a trip because they have to reach out to other analysts or athletes to find creative ways to fill in for me while I’m gone. I can’t just pick up and go. If it’s a weekend thing, I can probably fly out on Friday right after we wrap up on air and just skip out on the Podcast. That should get me there by like Friday evening.”

“Sounds fair enough to me, for as long as you come.”

“I’ll look into it.”

“So how is work?” My eyes instantly widened at the question because it’s one she never asks.

“It’s going great, honesty. I can’t complain even if I wanted to. How can I? I have one of my dream jobs. I’ve always wanted to have a show on ESPN and now I’m apart of a panel for the highest rated show on the network. I’d be a fool to have a single complaint about that.”

“I’ll never be able to understand how sitting around and talking about sports all day long is so interesting but that’s who you are, I suppose.” And there it is; the condescending dismissal of what I love.

Being a tomboy was something that happened to be within my nature while I was a kid, I didn’t ask for it nor did I go seeking that identity. I had no interest in playing with dolls and doll houses, I wanted soccer and basketballs. The whole kitchen and tea party thing was more of my sister’s style. I urged daddy to sign me up for the Boys and Girls Club, every summer league in Brooklyn, and to buy me game systems so that I could play them on those rainy or snowy days when I couldn’t or didn’t go outside and play. Dresses were for church and Easter, as far as I was concerned. Jeans and sneakers were more of my thing and still are; I just sex them up whenever I feel like it because I’ve confidently come into my womanhood and can be multifaced in the way that I dress myself.

I compromised with her by learning how to cook, only because she would constantly drill it into Celeste and I heads that she refused to have her children go out into the world without knowing how to feed themselves, but other than that, all of my thrills were in exciting times like those NFL wildcard games to clinch playoff spots, Venus and Serena Williams coming up in the ranks, or that kid from Akron, Ohio who was deemed to be the greatest human being to touch a basketball while still in high school. Hell, I remember when all of the girls around my way had a crush on Coney Island’s own Sebastian Telfair, meanwhile all I wanted was to play a couple of games of one on one with the guy right in the projects where he, his older brother Jamel, and their cousin, former NBA player Stephon Marbury came up. Though us two girls were all they had, daddy would always happily boast and brag about me being his best friend because I was the best of both words all made up into one. As for my other parent, she refused to understand it and even now, the stubbornness still gets in the way of the potential for us to bond more than we do.

“I’ll never be able to understand how you sit around and watch all of those Housewives shows and yet I don’t judge that you do. If anything, you should be thrilled that I’m accomplishing my goals and doing something positive with my life.”

“Oh, I know you’re doing something positive with your life. I’m not disagreeing with what you do. I’ve told you many times that I’m proud of you, but you know that I’ve never been into those things. You are your father’s child in that aspect and Celeste and I relate more in terms of our interests.”

“That approach is silly though, because despite my lack of interest in a lot of the things that the both of you like or entertain yourselves with, I at least try to figure out a way to enjoy it for the sake of the both of you, but neither one of you grant me the same courtesy. I’ve offered for the both of you to come and visit Bristol and see the studios and you’ve yet to take me up on the offer. I’ve asked you guys to come to games or events, but you haven’t come. So, I stopped asking. What’s the point in wasting my time and setting myself up for disappointment?”

“Sarai, don’t be ridiculous. You really believe that I can sit through hours of a bunch of guys dribbling a ball up and down a court? I’m getting a headache just thinking about it.”

“You believe that I wanted to be a part of that purposeless and stupid debutante ball? I mean just think about how sexist and elitist the concept of it is. It’s a ball to present young ladies to the high society and most of all, to display her to eligible bachelors so that she can marry into a rich family. How shallow can you get with something like that? And yet I did it, for you. I hated every single minute of it, including Chase Williams, and his weird topics of conversation. I can’t believe you thought he and I would ever hit it off.”

“It was at that same debutante ball that your sister met her now husband.”

“Okay, so what?” I was seventeen at the time. I wasn’t worried about finding a husband. Shit, I wasn’t even concerned with a boyfriend. I didn’t date in grammar or high school. My greatest concern at the time was gaining acceptance into the undergraduate program at New York University’s Arthur L. Carter Journalism Institute. I wanted it more than anything else and yet during my senior year, I juggled trying to keep my grades as close to perfect as possible while obliging her erratic decisions for me. Chase Williams being my future husband was a failure, but my acceptance into NYU was a success.

Despite journalism being my major and broadcast and multimedia being my minor, I also had to choose a second major within the College of Arts and Sciences and I ended up going with computer science and economics. If the journalism side of things didn’t work out, I planned to go in the cyber security route or I was going to get rich or die trying by trying to be the next Mark Zuckerberg. Thankfully, journalism was truly my calling. I was accepted into the honors program during the spring semester of my freshman year and was given the opportunity to work on an in-depth multimedia piece over the course of one academic year that ending up being reported on by The New York Times. Arguably the best part of my undergraduate years was six rigorous weeks of a summer program in Ghana where I worked as a foreign correspondent. It was an experience that I’ll never forget.

“I wanted you to be a part of that ball to expose you to things beyond yourself. Sports aside, you were so caught up in just you. I believed you needed to see there’s a lot more to life than balls flying all over the place and the occasional outings with your teammates.”

“Yeah, that’s what family vacations are for and even when we did those, it was never anything I liked. I asked you for Knicks game tickets and you took Celeste and I to see Carmen at the Metropolitan Opera House instead. I asked you for a ticket to the U.S. Open and you took us to see Swan Lake at the American Ballet Theater. For my birthday, you told me to pick anywhere in the U.S. to go for a family trip and I chose the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame in Massachusetts and where did we end up going? Niagara Falls.”

“You sound so ungrateful right now. This is exactly what Celeste talks about when she says that you throw silly little tantrums when you can’t get your way.”

“I’m not being ungrateful. You’re calling this a tantrum because I’m telling the truth?”

“Well, Sarai, in a lot of cases, you chose things that myself nor Celeste would enjoy so I tried to find things that I thought would interest all three of us.”

“An opera and a ballet show? For me? And even then, I didn’t even complain about it. I just figured out ways to enjoy it despite being internally angry that I couldn’t go to the places that I wanted to go. I had to get a summer job for that.”

“What about when I took you two to Disney World?”

“It was nice.” And it was. It was the first and only vacation I enjoyed.

“Okay then.”

“But, if we’re going to be technical, the only reason why I was able to see all of the things that I liked is because of auntie Shelly. I spent most of the time in the park with her.”

“Sarai, please. All that matters is we went and you enjoyed it.” In a gesture that she’s been doing in response to my complaints since I was a child, she waved me off with a roll of her eyes and turned her attention to the touch screen display on the right-side door of her brand-new Samsung refrigerator that I’d gotten her for her birthday. She threw enough hints out about the two thousand five-hundred-dollar state of the art gadget to convince me that it would be an essential part of her kitchen and I made it happen.

“Daddy would have taken me to all of those places though. That’s for sure.” I went to my first Knicks game with him. I saw my first home run at the Yankee stadium with him. We saw the Nets together back when they were still in New Jersey. We even went to a Jersey Devils game, though I wasn’t that into hockey at the time. In the summer time, we’d go stand outside the gate at the Rucker Park and watch the guys hoop while we enjoyed ice cream cones from the Mister Softee truck lingering on the corner. I had every pair of Jordans that hit the shelves and my poster collection on my bedroom walls? Unmatched.

“I’m sure he would have but he’s no longer with us and I’m not sure why you feel compelled to bring up what he would have done if he were.”

“I guess because it’s the truth.”

“Well he’s not here Sarai. I’m sorry if you don’t think I was a good enough parent for you. I had a roof over your head, I put food on the table, clothes on your back, and made sure you were in a great school. You had good birthdays and Christmas’. We went on vacations, whether you were grateful for them or not. I tried to do my best as a single parent so don’t come in here throwing it into my face what your father would have done. I did what I could and he would have been damn proud of me.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t a good enough parent. Daddy just understood me more.”

“Well guess what Sarai? He was my husband. You don’t think my time with him was cut short too? I miss him just as much as you do. While I understand that he was your everything, I don’t think he would want you to be behaving in the manner that you do. Parents bring children into the world with the expectation to raise them and then one day leave them behind to be here to make a legacy for themselves. Your father’s life was cut short, but ultimately, he was raising you to prepare for a time when death would happen. I’m not going to be around forever either.” The pitch of her voice suddenly increased as she leaned forward to align her eyes with my own.

“I attempted to break you out of that odd mold you were creating for yourself and to expose you to different things because I don’t want you to do exactly what you’re doing right now; being alone out in this world. You’re so hostile towards life itself and it’s such a horrible mentality to have. I’m surprised you’ve kept Taylor around for so long because all you do is push everyone away. You think your father would want you behaving like that? He would have given you a never-ending earful. I’m sorry that he’s no longer here Sarai, but Wesley isn’t coming back. It’s been sixteen years. You have to move on.”

The tears that were once burning my eyes, came trickling down the sides of my cheeks. Many of our conversations always end up here, with her making this point, and then dismissing any criticism that I have for her as me unfairly measuring her up to my father. It’s never been about that. I don’t believe we have a poor relationship with one another, I just know that it has the potential to be so much better than it is. It’s not even about the past, because I don’t have to bring it up, but when I do, it’s always to point out how things are still the same when it comes to her stubbornness about who I am, what I do for a living, and my interests. I’m not as extreme with my tom boyish ways as I used to be, but I’m also not a prissy girly girl either. I’m just me.

“Move on like you have?” She hasn’t. It’s been sixteen years and she’s never remarried. The government funded support groups helped with her coping skills but anything beyond that? It’s been a slow burn progress. When I do attend church with her, I see guys checking her out and smiling in her face all the time, but from her view, they may as well be speaking to a wall. She still wears her rings and his on a necklace that she always wears around her neck and there are pictures up around the house with him in them as if everything is still as normal as it was before our world came crashing down with his sudden death.

“Don’t worry about me and what I have going on. You’re still wet behind the ears with a whole lot of life ahead of you. Don’t waste your time by trying to be like me. You’d be a fool for that. Your happiness is somewhere out in the world waiting for you and it’s up to you to find it or accept it when it finds you. Dry your face.”

I could barely finish off the second slice of cake as my stomach dropped for the millionth time at the sight of the season ending injury that snapped Beckham’s ankle during their week five match up against the Chargers. The sight of him lying on the field clutching his ankle in agony as tears began to pour out of his eyes is still as gut wrenching as it was when I watched it from my couch yesterday and the many times ESPN replayed it as we reported on it this morning. It’s always disappointing to see a player injured but the manner in which it happened to him drew emotion out of me that I hadn’t expected and yet, I didn’t have enough courage to pick up the phone and check on him. I just…couldn’t.

How could I when I spent the last two weeks ignoring any form of communication that he attempted to have with me? His text messages had gone from being sweet messages wishing me a good morning and his own opinions on the segments from the show, to being filled with confusion as to why I refused to respond to him. He attempted to call me three times but I simply stared at the phone and watched it ring. I thought after the unanswered phone calls his persistence would cease, but he then reached out through a Twitter direct message where he asked me if I was alright, because he was worried. A day or so after that, I believe he’d gotten the hint that I was deliberately leaving him unanswered and he stopped.

I thought I would have successfully disappointed and discouraged him when I spoke on the conflict of interest between myself and any athletes beyond the professional setting but it all went into one ear and right out of the other, so I needed to go another route and ignoring him was that. In the midst of the necessary barrier I built between he and I, I hated that I would find myself looking at my phone in anticipation that he’d try again. I scolded myself for lying in bed wondering about him and hoping that he still watches the show. Last night, I berated myself for the tears that I shed in sympathy for what he’s going through right now.

It felt like the Giants were cursed that day. Dwayne Harris left the game with a fractured foot, Brandon Marshall and Sterling Shepard left the game with ankle sprains, and Beckham with a fibula fracture. It was somber in New York, especially for a team that wanted to redeem themselves after such a terrible season ending playoff lost in the prior season. It pained me to read off Harris being out for the season, but it completely sent my mood into a downward spiral when I had to state the same exact verdict for Beckham. As such an explosive player and someone who only gets sixteen games a season, excluding the playoffs, to play the sport that he loves, I can’t even begin to imagine his disappointment.

I spoke with Heather. When I reached out, he was still in recovery from surgery. She said it was successful and he’s okay.

I reached out to Taylor a short while ago and asked her had she heard anything about his surgery. Everything took place today at the Hospital for Special Surgery in Manhattan.

Okay, good. Thank you.

The remaining half of the additional slice of cake I was having went into the garbage. I then slipped into my jean jacket and grabbed my car keys.

“Ma, I’m leaving. I need to run somewhere right quick.”

“Will I see you this weekend?” I knew she wasn’t too far away. She was right there in the living room wrapped up into what NeNe Leakes has going on in her drama filled life.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Okay, then. Don’t catch an attitude when I call you.”

“I never do.”

As I neared the door, something within me told me to turn around, and I swiftly approached her and planted a kiss on her forehead. No matter how many disagreements we may have, that’s my mother, and I’m always going to leave her on a respectful note.

“Drive safely. Are you going to see a guy?” The gleam in her eyes instantly evoked the rolling of my eyes.

“Ma, don’t be ridiculous. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

My first stop was Scott’s Flowers, a florist I frequent when I feel like putting a brighter smile on my mother’s face or whenever an occasion calls for someone to receive flowers. They’re so familiar with my face that I don’t have to call ahead of time for most of my orders and today was of no exception. While swiftly flipping through a booklet of floral arrangements that weren’t impressive enough, I tossed it aside and opted for one hundred long stem yellow roses inside of a cylinder glass vase. In the corner of the room was an assortment of teddy bears that caught my eyes, so I chose the biggest one they had. I know if I had surgery, I’d want a teddy bear to keep me company. Scott slipped in a number of sly questions about who I was spending four hundred dollars on at this time of evening, but I avoided lying by diverting the subject matter. I considered grabbing some chocolates but I ultimately chose not to because I’m not sure if he likes it. The bottles of wine he raved about while I was on my way out of the door were pointless too. Wine can either be nice for a celebration or a painkiller for sadness, but it can’t be either for him because I’m sure he’s on a ton of actual painkillers.

“Tell Dominique I said hello.”

“Will do.” Yes, mommy’s name is Dominique. Mrs. Dominique Nicole Thomas-Nazaire. Trini to de bone.

The drive to the hospital was twenty minutes of bad nerves and conversations with myself that drowned out whatever Hot 97 had playing. I hadn’t even announced that I would be showing up and yet, here I am, in the parking lot, about to intrude on he and his family’s privacy as he recovers from surgery. I’ve always considered myself to be a thinker even though I think too damn much at times, but I didn’t spend much time taking into consideration all the things that could go wrong with this mission to do a good deed tonight. Who I am to even think that I may be able to slightly cheer him up with some tired ass flowers that’ll die within a few days, a teddy bear that his little brother will enjoy far more than he will, and two “Get Well Soon” balloons that I grabbed from a dollar store five minutes before arriving here? And I didn’t even take into account that it’s fucking me. I’m not Oprah known, but I’m known enough for people to make a narrative that is far from the truth if I’m seen here.

“You can be such a dumbass Sarai.” I panned my eyes over the parking lot. “Fuck it.”

I cleared my conscious as I slipped out of the car and retrieved all that I’d gotten for him out of the backseat. With the click of a button, I locked all of my doors and quickly trekked through the sliding doors and to the lobby’s information desk to get a pass.

“Good evening, how are you?” The short, stocky, and elderly woman warmly smiled at me while watching me manage to juggle the flowers, bear, balloons, and my purse.

“Hi. I’m well. I’m here to see Odell Beckham Jr.”  “Are you on the list?”

Oh. My. God. See? I’m stupid. How and why didn’t I think about there being a list? He’s only one of the most high-profile athletes in the whole fucking world.

“Um, I’m not sure.” I’m not. Obviously.

“What’s your name? Also, I have to note that visiting hours are ending soon.”

“Sarai. Sarai Nazaire.” Great. Just great.

As her fingers went to tapping away at the keyboard, I began to strategize my escape plan so that I won’t suffer in embarrassment when she tells me that my name isn’t there. While on my way out, I’ll trash all of this, because they’re obviously not going to make sure all of this gets upstairs to him due to it being a security risk.

“Sarai?” I couldn’t mistake that voice. As my head twisted to the left, Heather stopped squinting her eyes and brightly smiled at my presence. God decided to be gracious towards me today. I definitely have to go to church this Sunday with mommy. I’m not going to use cramps as a poor excuse like I did yesterday. My period ended Saturday. Lord, forgive me please.

“Hey Heather.” She adjusted the strap on her Chanel bag while approaching me and immediately engulfed me into a hug. Much like her son, I don’t know how anyone can ever become angry with this woman. She’s just one big ball of positivity.

“I’m so glad to see you. O’s going to be so happy you’re here.”

“They said that visiting hours are ending soon.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. We’re in good standing with the surgeon. Once you’re upstairs, no one’s going to bother you. I stayed here all night long last night.”

“How is he?”

“He’s alright. He’s in good spirits even though he’s in both mental and physical pain. I know that sounds like it doesn’t make sense, but it does to me. He could be a lot of worse, you know? As I told him, it’s a minor setback for a major comeback.”

“That’s true.”

“And the surgery went extremely well. The fix is as perfect as it’s going to get so I can feel a lot of weight being lifted off of my shoulders and his, even though he’s not going to admit that right now. He has a long road ahead of him before full recovery and of course him getting back to the athletic O that we all know and love, but the fact of the matter is that he’s going to recover. There are people who do not, so he’s blessed.”

“I’m so glad to hear that. When I saw his ankle bend like that, I literally yelped out loud.”

“Oh, so did I. I just about had a heart attack. Thank God I was here. My nerves would have been shot to hell had I been back home.”

“Were you leaving?”

“Yeah, I’m going to head back to the house to freshen up and get a bit of rest. He sent everyone else home about an hour ago. I was the last one hanging around. He claims everyone needs to go and chill out for a bit, but honestly, I think he was tired of the crowd being in the room. He couldn’t get much rest himself with everyone hovering over him and doing all of that talking.”

“Oh my gosh, well then, maybe I can just have this sent up and I’ll just head out. If he’s trying to rest, I don’t want to disturb him.”

“Oh no. Don’t be silly. Please go up, I insist. Even if it’s just for a few minutes, I know he’ll be happy you came by.”

“Okay.” Maybe I’ll stick around for ten minutes.

“I should be back first thing in the morning. Oh, and thank you so much for the words of encouragement you spoke this morning for he and the other wide receivers who were injured yesterday. You’re so awesome Sarai. Truly.” Yet again we were hugging.

“Oh, there’s no need to thank me. I hate to see players get injured. It’s awful.”

“Yes, it is. They’ll be alright though. I just try to think positive. I grabbed him a light dinner earlier because he’s not fond of the hospital’s food and he has some snacks up there too, so he should be okay. He knows to call me if he needs me. You can also call me if anything comes up. You have my number.”

“Yes, I do. I’ll be sure to call.”

“Alright then. I’ll see you soon. Have a good night.”

“Goodnight.”

As she walked away, I realized that she hadn’t given the receptionist clearance for me to be able to go upstairs.

Shit.

“Sarai right? I placed your laminated pass right there. I just need you to step back a bit so that I can take a picture with the camera and print one out.”

“Oh, everything is okay?” My brows raised in confusion.

“Of course. Your name is there.” She said it so nonchalantly, it almost went over my head that my name was indeed on his visitor’s list. I’m sure the picture she took looked foolish and that was confirmed once she passed it to me. How is my name already on the list?

“He’s on the fourth floor. The room is on your pass. The elevators are right over there to the right.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Flutters filled my core as the elevator ascended to the fourth floor. The feeling worsened as I stood in front of the closed door to his private room.

What will I say? If he saw this morning’s episode, then I don’t want to be repetitive with the words of encouragement. Then again, does he even want to hear that? I know I wouldn’t want to hear the cliché “it’ll be okay” after being told I won’t be able to play for the rest of the season. That’s not okay. Maybe I won’t say anything and I’ll just listen. After so much disappointment and a surgery, who wouldn’t want to vent? Either way, I came all this way, so I might as well go through with this. I’ll kick myself in the ass later on when I’m back home.

“Beckham?” I poked my head into the room. There was silence. As he lay there in bed, he stared up at the ceiling in deep thought until I interrupted him.

“Sarai?” He cleared his throat to rid it of some of the rasp as I stepped into the room and allowed the door to close behind myself. Our eyes instantly met and the glossiness within them sunk my mood even further. I could tell he hadn’t been crying but it was clear that the weight of all that had happened to him over the last twenty-four hours was on his shoulders like a ton of bricks and right now, within this moment, he feels something he typically never feels for himself; helpless.

“Yes, it’s me.”

“Wow. Flowers?” A bit of gleam filled his eyes and he chuckled at the sight of all of the yellowness in my hands. As I glanced around the room, I noticed a ton of balloons, two gift baskets filled with chocolate, but no flowers. “I’ve never received flowers before.”

“Really?”

“No.”

“Is it a bad thing?”

“Of course not. I’m flattered, honestly.” I found a nice spot near the window to place them down, so they’d be able to receive a good amount of sunlight and I placed the teddy bear on the couch just near the window.

“I figured I’d get them in yellow to bring some brightness around here. I don’t care what they look like; all hospitals are dull and glum to me. You don’t need that kind of energy around you right now. You want to hug the bear?”

“A hug from you sounds better.” It felt like someone punched a hole into my chest and knowingly squeezed my lungs once he said that. The hesitance was clear as my feet remained just about glued to the floor for a few seconds but I eventually began to inch my way over to his awaiting arms and laid my upper frame on top of his. With him laying down, I was only able to grip both of his arms as he wrapped his drawn-out arms around my body and pulled me close. The beating our hearts synced and somehow, I felt more alive than I did at any point during this befuddling day. A laziness filled me as the warmth of his body relaxed mine and the enthralling scent of his cologne coerced my eyes to close as we basked in the moment. The feeling his fingers lightly pressing into my back informed me of just how much he needed to be embraced and if that could give him just the slightest bit of comfort through this, I’m am willing to give him as many hugs as it takes.

“I ran into your mom. She said the surgery was a success.”

“Yeah, the doctor claims all is well. I have a long road ahead of me though.” Despite me sitting up to be able to look at his alluring face, I was still wrapped up within his arms.

“It takes about six weeks for bones to heel, but there’s a possibility it can be longer. We’ll just have to pace it. For the next four to six weeks I really have to chill out and keep my weight off of it as much as possible. They’re going to put me on a pain management protocol so I won’t be so dependent on the opioid medications which is great for me because I hate how all of that shit is making my body feel. I’m going to be in a splint when I get out here and I have to basically sit on my ass and elevate it ninety percent of the day. In about two weeks, he’ll take the sutures out and then I’ll get one of those boots that you can take on and off. I’ll be able to start slightly moving the ankle then and taking showers. They’ll do an x-ray in six to seven weeks to see how well the bone healed and if all is well then, I’ll be able to start putting weight on it and doing physical therapy.”

“Well, at least you really listened to all that he had to say.” I had to laugh at the way he easily listed off the way his life is going to be for the next month and a half. He didn’t sound enthusiastic about it whatsoever, but he’s certainly well informed.

“Well, yeah I did. I can’t take not being on my feet for so long. All of that sitting around is going to drive me insane.”

“It doesn’t have to. Now is a good time for you to find other things to entertain yourself with.”

“You know what’s crazy? Remember when I said to you that I was praying to God for more time to do things that are beyond the football field like spending time with my family, friends, and the dogs? Now look.”

“Well, I don’t think God decided to grant you that wish by snapping your ankle, but at least you’ll be able to gain some perspective about life in the midst of this.”

“Everyone keeps telling me that it’s going to be alright. Minor setback for a major comeback.”

“Well, I’m not going to tell you that.” His hands trailed down my back as he frowned in confusion in the same manner that I had been doing downstairs.

“What do you mean?”

“You snapped your ankle. You’re lying in a hospital bed. Despite what everyone is telling you, that’s not what you feel. This feels fucked up and pretty shitty. You’re out for the season and now you have to watch your team fight for victories without you. That feels even worse. So right now, it doesn’t feel like it’s going to be alright because it’s still all so fresh and you have the right to feel that way. Be angry, frustrated, hell, even cry if you want to. It’s alright to have those emotions because this isn’t easy. There will come a time when you do feel like everything’s going to be alright, but tonight isn’t it…and that’s okay.”

I don’t know how anyone uses those ridiculous and yet absolutely insulting adjectives such as diva, asshole, little girl, and selfish to describe this man. The majority of the time we see him, he’s covered up in a uniform and is defined by the number on the back of his jersey. For sixty minutes, people create so many false narratives of who he is based upon passionate responses on the field and his will to win. It’s beyond unjust because the person that I’ve come to know is charming, compassionate, and has elements of shyness within him. He’s composed, observant, and aware. He has a keen eye for detail, listens intently, and thinks before he speaks. He carries himself with his head held high and brings about an energy into any room he steps into unlike any other. He puts smiles on people’s faces, tells the silliest jokes to lighten the mood, and shows genuine concern for the well-being of others. He’s unique; a one of a kind Baton Rouge born royal who has made his mark and is continuing to do so no matter what negativity his naysayers speak.

“Thank you for that, Sarai.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Can I ask you something? You don’t have to explain yourself if you don’t want to. I’m just curious.” And suddenly I wanted him to let me go. I hate that he could easily feel the nervousness within my now tense fame. To soothe me, he ran one of his ridiculously huge palms up and down my back.

“Yeah?”

“Why’d you ignore me? Did I do something wrong?”

“No. You didn’t do anything wrong. Beckham, you don’t understand.”

“Help me understand.”

“This can’t…” It was me who broke his embrace as the door suddenly cracked open. With one step, I dashed backwards to create some space between the bed and myself.

“Mr. Beckham, it’s time for your final round of medication for the night. You should be able to sleep with this one. Are you feeling any pain?”

“Nah not really. The only thing I’m feeling is flips in my stomach and chills from all of the medication.”

“Yeah, those are typical side effects, especially because we’re giving it to you intravenously. Usually when medication is going straight through the vein it can cause you to have slight jitters, chills, possible anxiety, or it feels like there’s this rush happening within your body. I promise we’re not going to give you anything that is dangerous for you. We’re just trying to keep your pain under control. Remember you had surgery today.”

“I know.”

“At least your girlfriend is here to keep you company. She’ll keep your mind off of it until you fall asleep.” My mouth fell agape at her assumption and he giggled like a young school boy as she viewed his chart.

“That’s true.” If I didn’t have any sense, I would have beamed my phone at his head.

“So, this is morphine and your antibiotic. This should last you throughout the night, but I’ll be in to check on you. Do you have to use the bathroom?” She began to check his pulse and blood pressure.

“Nope, because I’m not going in that bed pan again.”

“Beckham, don’t be stubborn.” I had to butt in. He’s in here for an ankle fracture and he’ll be back for a damaged bladder if he holds his urine due to being too prideful.

“I actually don’t have to go.”

“Are you sure? Why don’t we try? I’ll get a pan.”

“I’ll step outside.” Their conversation was officially shifting into a privacy territory.

“You don’t have to step outside.” Beckham found her responses to be all too funny as I widened my eyes in disbelief. Uh, I absolutely do have to step outside and I’ll be stepping outside of the building if she continues with these assumptions.

“Nurse Meghan, I really don’t have to go. I’m okay.”

“What about number two? Have you had the urge yet?” And then it quickly became my turn to laugh at him as he frowned his face up in sheer embarrassment at such a question.

“No.”

“That’s normal. It may take a day or two for your bowels to open up but if it’s any longer than that we’ll give you a mild laxative to fix that problem.”

“I doubt I’ll need that.”

“We’ll see. Hopefully you won’t. Your blood pressure is great. I’ll check your temperature, insert your medicine through the IV, and you should be good to go. You need anything else for the night? I already showed you how to work the television. On the remote is a button for you to press to call the nurse’s station and I’ll be right here to assist you. You have water right over there if you want it. You want any extra pillows or blankets?”

“Nah. My mom brought me some from home so that I could be comfortable. I’m straight.” He lifted his tongue for the thermometer and within a few seconds she was jotting down his temperature.

“All normal. If anything should change, you know how to reach me.” I’m not sure why but my eyes followed her every move as she worked with the IV to properly insert the liquid within both syringes into the line. She was gentle enough to make sure she didn’t irritate his arm and the vein by pulling on or adjusting it.

“I do.”

“Alright then, I’ll check on you in a bit Mr. Beckham.”

And yet again, we were left alone. His eyes hadn’t panned back up to the ceiling like they were before I intruded on his thinking. Instead, they were directly on me while I leaned against the wall.

“You’re going to go to sleep soon, so I’m going to get out of here. You need your rest.”

“I don’t want you to go.” Why does he say all of the things that men don’t say but actually need to say?

“You’re going to fall asleep within the next ten minutes or so.”

“I’ll fight it. I want to talk to you.”

“You’re so stubborn.”

“I won’t fall asleep. Just stay for a little while longer.” How can I deny someone laying in a hospital bed?

“Okay.”

“So, I watched clips from today’s show on my phone. I couldn’t see the whole episode because I was in recovery and still under the anesthesia when it was on. Scott wasn’t there today, which made the show even better.” My laughter was louder than it should have been because that is one of my co-hosts after all, but gosh, he peeves so many people. There’s one side of him that deliberate does it for the sake of sparking debates and the other side is actually just his personality coming out to shine, often times, in the worst ways. He can be condescending, over exaggerated, and a large majority his sentiments causes our viewers to unleashed full on rants about him on social media but he is who he is and he’s yet to say anything controversial enough to be removed from the show. His disdain for Beckham, Tom Brady, Lebron James, and Antonio Brown never falters. We’ve all learned not to take him seriously whatsoever because if he were to meet any one of the three, he’d never keep that same energy in their faces.

“Yeah, Scott went on vacation with his girlfriend.”

“I see the way he looks at you. I think he likes you.”

“He does.” He flirts, he’s asked me out for drinks once, and his compliments can be overkill. I’m not interested nor will I ever be.

“You’re out of his league. He should know better than that.” Though he attempted to suppress it, I noticed the yawn and the way he attempted to pull the covers up over his body. I decided to help. If I felt the chill within the room, I’m sure it feels worse for him.

“How’s that?” I covered him up to the top of his shoulders.

“It’s great, thank you. So back to what I was saying, he’s out of your league.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. I’m sure he knows it too.”

“So, who’s in my league?”

“No one.”

“No one?” I didn’t expect that answer. I figured he’d throw in some joke about it being him. He’s good for a flirtatious moment.

“No one. You’re definitely in a league of your own, but I’m trying to work my way up to bring drafted in. With the first and only pick in the 2017 Sarai Nazaire draft, Sarai selects Odell Beckham Jr. from Baton Rouge, Louisiana and the New York Giants.”

“Shut up!” I knew it was coming. We roared in laughter because of that. He wouldn’t be himself without inserting some kind of joke into the mix.

“Sarai, you know after this you can’t ignore me ever again, right? You bought me flowers, a teddy bear, and balloons. You told me I could be as mad as I want. You were about to help me use the bed pan.”

“Oh, no I wasn’t.” The only way I would have done that is if it were truly an emergency and the hospital had not a single nurse within reach of him.

“Yeah, you were. You tucked me in. All that’s left for you to do is kiss me and then we can start talking about the rest of our lives together.”

“Go to sleep Beckham.”

“You go to sleep Nazaire.” This yawn came with his heavy eyelids struggling to stay open so that he could focus on me. He didn’t have the strength to say anything more. I looked on as he eventually drifted into the deep slumber that he was fighting against and the light snoring was a clear sign that he’d be out for the night.

The reclining chair directly next to the bed had a pillow and blanket neatly folded up in its seat and on the opposite side of the room was the couch. I had options and yet I chose to remain nearby. I’m going to assume this is where Heather slept. She did a nightshift last night, so I’ll do one tonight.

I gently lifted the yellow beanie hat covering his head just a bit and planted a soft kiss on his forehead. I, then, gave him a second one for good measure. As my eyes panned down to his slightly pouting lips, I mentally scolded myself for momentarily craving to feel them against my own. The man is laying in a hospital bed and yet I’m consumed with my own childish and temporary fantasies.

I kicked off my sneakers and curled up into the chair. I didn’t expect it to be comfortable but it isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. The cushion is soft enough to keep my back and bottom without aches throughout the night.

Lastly, I covered myself in the blanket smothered with his scent and propped up the pillow that smelled just the same right under my head.

“Sweet dreams, O.”

Within a half an hour, I was having sweet dreams of my own.

#fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #fan fic #odell beckham jr fanfic #odell beckham fanfic #obj fanfic

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aleapoffaithfiction · 6 years ago

Text

IV.

I hope that you're the one. If not, you are the prototype - Andre 3000

“What do you think about this lipstick? I’m about to take it off and just stick with a lip gloss. I can never seem to get red lipstick to work on me. Meanwhile, every single shade that exists works on you.” In the midst of listening to Taylor’s commentary about a Dose of Colors lipstick that is absolutely perfect on her, I continued to nod my head along to “Too Deep for The Intro” from J. Cole’s “Friday Night Lights” mixtape. Despite it being released damn near seven years ago, it still feels and sounds better than anything that’s out right about now so it shall always remain in rotation alongside some of my all-time favorite Hip-Hop musical masterpieces. It also sounds damn good as we continue this journey down I-95 S to Pennsylvania. It’s been quite some time since I’ve actually driven a distance longer than twenty minutes and I can admit that I’m actually enjoying this. Traffic is clear, the sun is shining brighter than ever, and the weather hasn’t quite reached the brutally chilly temperatures that are on the way. I’m enjoying the wind smacking me in the face and blowing my hair all over the place. It’s damn near ninety degrees, why wouldn’t I?

“That red lipstick looks fucking good on you. You’re overthinking it. Also, my black ass cannot wear every shade ever. I just figure out ways to make them work on me and usually, lip liner is the trick. I think I have really deep berry liner in that bag. Try it and see if it works for you. If not, take it off and do the gloss.” To avoid having to stop and use the bathroom, I skipped out on grabbing a bite to eat from Wendy’s like Taylor did and now I regret it because my stomach is growling like hell. Given that the car is new, I don’t have any snacks in here but I’ll be damned if I don’t stop and grab some from a Quick Check on the way back.

“You’re talking about this one here?” I quickly glanced over and nodded my head to confirm.

“How was your time with Jesse when he came to Atlanta?”

“Pleasant. I can admit that he enjoyed it. He’s the first guy that I’ve ever had sleep in my apartment there and it was a different vibe but it felt nice. While it’s no sign that I’m ready to cohabitate with anyone just yet, I did like it for that time being.”

“So, you enjoyed finally sexing in your bed? That’s what you’re saying?” Her laughter filled our space as I called her out on such a discrete way of saying things. We both knew that’s exactly what she was alluding to.

“Well, I won’t deny that. It was damn good to be able to go at it multiple times between the night and the next morning, and then get up for a cup of coffee in my own kitchen. Hotel sex is only exciting the first couple of times. After that, it’s one big ass whatever. Do you know what it’s like to fuck in your own bed and then turn on your TV to watch one of your favorite shows while naked as the day you were born next to your fine as man? Heaven.”

“Oh, so you’re finally calling him your man now?” She refuses to label what they have as anything more than their “thing”. I understand the hesitance given the tough space he’s in when it comes to his children and divorce, but overall, he seems to have really taken a liking to her that comes with everything that a relationship is.

“I suppose so. We spoke about it and figured ah, what the hell, why not?”

“That’s nice to hear. I like you two together. He’s a good fit for you in a sense that he’s educated, sophisticated in certain ways, and he’s super mellow. That’s all you.” I always call Taylor my goody two shoes friend with the potty mouth, despite her quickly saying that it’s a label that I should be giving myself. If Jesse isn’t her perfect match, then I don’t know who is. If they don’t work out, she’ll still end up with some super educated business man or book writer of some sort. I feel like she likes them eclectic.

“And what exactly is your type? I’ve been trying to figure the shit out for the longest and it’s like I’m looking for lost treasure on some deserted island. Every single time I try and hook you up with someone, you avoid it like a plague. You’re not a lesbian. It was easy to rule that out because you didn’t want me.” I had to laugh with her, because I know she said that nonsense on purpose. She’s never been arrogant and easily becomes irritable whenever she encounters a person who is. We’ve had a ton of conversations about interviews that we’ve wanted to cut short due to some athlete thinking that he’s above being proper and approachable when speaking with us. If anything, we get it far worse than male reporters do.

“I don’t know what my type is. I feel like we all craft this dreamy guy in our heads with everything that we assume is our type, but ultimately, it’s unrealistic. There’s fantasy and reality, and in reality, there’s a lot that we’re willing to compromise about when it comes to finding love.”

“So why do you avoid hook ups? You won’t know until you get out there and try it out.”

“My sister ruined that for me. She’s the one who hooked me up with my ex and I’ve already opened up to you about how that turned out.” A moment of silence fell between us as she reflected on my past words about Shamel, while I did my best to avoid thinking about the man. It’s not very often that I do think of him because he’s an ink stain in my past that I’m working damn hard to erase.

“Well, that was then and this is now. It’s been four years since him and you’ve yet to really allow yourself to get out there. I’m pretty damn good with the vetting process, so you know I’m not bring anyone your way who I don’t believe is worthy, so what’s up? What you think of Michael B. Jordan? I know his best friend Sterling. I can hook something up. You know Black Panther is about to come out in a couple of months. He’s on fire right now.”

“Just because you have an actor in your bed doesn’t mean that I want one in mine. He’s probably running through every becky in Hollywood.”

“Oh my gosh. Shut up. You don’t know that.”

“You don’t either but it’s likely that he is. I’m not sure if I could ever get involved with a known guy. I’m sure there’s a brutal headache that comes with that. I certainly salute the wives of the players because I’ve heard more than enough stories for me to wonder why some of those women have yet to snap. The perks of being financially taken care of wouldn’t be anywhere near enough for me not to lose it. The disrespect is real.”

The manner in which those men cheat is unbelievable. I’ve heard about scenarios where the wife is in the arena sitting in the WAGs section and the mistress is only a couple of rows up amongst the spectators. Many of them have apartments in different cities that their spouses either do or do not know about. The manner in which these women flock to their hotels is shameful. And All-Star Weekend? Or even the Pro Bowl Weekend? Forget it. These are events literally created for the sake of the players being able to relax and have some fun while having their families be in the midst of it and yet they still have women all over whichever city is hosting it, fucking and sucking on them. I consider myself to be a pretty composed woman, but I don’t know how long I’d be able to keep it together if I were dealing with that. I’d probably end up on an episode of Snapped.

“Well, I can’t argue with you there, but not all of them are like that. I doubt Grant Hill has ever cheated on Tamia. What about Tim Duncan? That man isn’t cheating. Look at Ray Allen. Does he look like a cheater to you?”

“Uh, can you at least talk to me about players who are under thirty-five?”

“I doubt Steph is cheating on Ayesha.”

“The most vanilla couple in the league. Next?”

“You think Isaiah Thomas cheats?”

“Yo, T, shut up. You don’t even know what to say right now. You’re avoiding the big names because you know the deal.” I’d already been giggling, but it worsened as she side eyed me.

“All of them aren’t cheaters. What about the NFL? Look at Russell Wilson.”

“NBA, NFL, MBL, ATP, WBA, EFL, and everything else. They’re all loosely slinging dick. Spare me.”

“And you think business men aren’t? What about the gym teachers? You think they don’t fuck around too? Doctors, lawyers, judges, scientists, you name it. There are shitty men everywhere and within every professional sector. Shit, the Starbucks barista is probably slipping in numbers while handing over caramel lattes and slinging dick too.”

“You’re right. And that’s exactly why I’m single.”

“Not everyone is the same.”

“I know that.”

“So then give yourself a chance to at least meet someone. What’s the big deal? Live a little.”

“Why are you always assuming that I’m not allowing myself to meet anyone? Have you ever thought about how I’ve yet to encounter a man who has peaked my interests? That’s truly what it is.”

“Seriously? That’s what it is?”  “Yes.”

“I suppose I can believe that. You’re such a home body, so it’s not like you’re going to meet anyone there. You work around a bunch of old men up there at ESPN, so he won’t be there either.”

“There are some young guys behind the scenes but I’m not into the dating a co-worker thing. It just sounds like a nightmare filled with endless awkwardness.”

“That just means that I have to get you out more. That’s all.”

“You can try.”

And I’m sure she will. I most likely won’t mind it either. For as long as the environment isn’t one that’ll make me uncomfortable, I’m alright with being out on the scene. What I won’t be is “mixxy”. I’ve never been the one to feel compelled to fit into a bunch of circles in order to feel worthy of sitting at the cool table. I will always sit at my own table, whether I’m by myself or not.

“Thank you so much.” As I slipped Taylor her pass, I handed over my keys. Who the hell knew that this stadium has valet parking? Either way, I’m beyond appreciative because I can only imagine the chaos it is to find a parking space within anyone of the parking lots.

“I have two questions.”

“What?” As I slipped the lanyard around my neck, my eyes panned in her direction. Her eyebrows were already raised.

“One, what kind of Benz is that? It’s sexy.”

“It’s a 2018 E-Class Coupe.” I’d gotten it in Diamond White Metallic and didn’t even have to pay the extra fifteen hundred dollars for it. The exterior came with the night package including gloss accents and AMG body styling. The interior? Macchiato beige seats with red accents. I was able to have the heated and cooling ventilated seats, arm rests, and steering wheel that I wanted for the winter and summer time, and as far as everything else? Well it’s nice. I tuned him out because I’m not obsessed with cars enough to care about every single specific detail that doesn’t involve my safety. After going over the specifics, he was able to locate the exact make and design I wanted on Route 22 West in Union, New Jersey. As Beckham promised me, Phil Campbell certainly came through, not only with the car, but also with a damn good deal for it too.

“And who the hell are you fucking on the Eagles? I thought we were coming here with your ESPN credentials.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m not fucking anyone within the sports world and you know this. Also, the Eagles? Please.”

“Wait. O invited you to a game during that interview, right? Is this the game?” I figured she should have known. I had the jersey he gave me laying across the backseat in the car and it’s in my hand right now. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy going to sporting events, especially when it’s not work related, but I most likely wouldn’t have made the trip out here knowing that I have to work in the morning, if it weren’t for his invitation of thanks.

“Can you come on?” We would have remained standing there had I not taken off before her.

“No, I want the details of how this all happened. O’s going to be so happy that you’re here. The man is obsessed with you.”

“Why do over exaggerate everything? Is that a Gemini trait or something?”

“But I’m not over exaggerating anything. He really does adore you. He asks about you whenever I see him.”

“You’ve told me that and as I said to you before, I’m flattered that he enjoys my work.”

“Look at you thinking it’s that simple. How cute.”

“Can you cut the shit and come on? Did you have anything to drink before we left the house?”

“No, no drinks yet but I’m going to have a mojito or something while I’m here. That’s for certain.”

I’ve never experienced the perks that comes with being a VIP or an athlete’s special guest but now I understand why everyone enjoys it. It opens the doors to just about every single access point within the stadium, except the locker rooms and with my ESPN credentials, I could easily get into both locker rooms after the game if was here for that purpose. In the midst of making our way upstairs, we were given an escort who explained everything that we’re welcome to, places that we’re entitled to be, and the free merchandise that comes with the passes. I’d almost forgotten about the food and drinks Beckham mentioned as I walked past all of the concession stands. I can never pass up a good ol’ chicken tender and fries’ basket while sitting at a game.

“And here is where you’ll be. I’ll be around to accommodate anything you may need Ms. Nazaire.”

“Oh, thank you. I appreciate that.”

“No problem.”

He opened the door to allow us to step inside what I’m sure is far more than necessary in terms of accommodations and I was certainly right as my eyes swiftly glanced over the posh interior and paused on the single person already enjoying all of it; Ms. Heather Van Norman. In no way, shape, or form did he mentioned that his mother would be around and though I don’t mind whatsoever, it does not negate my nervousness.

If he didn’t tell me, I for sure hope that he informed her because I’d hate to be the person to oddly intrude on her time and privacy as she watches her son play. Oh God. What if she thinks I used the man for all of this? It’s one thing for him to give me a thank you that I don’t even believe I deserve and it’s another for the thanks to come with perks that I’m sure no other analyst can say they’ve been given. Sure, there are some kind hearted athletes who will slip you an invitation to an event of theirs or embrace you with a hug and good conversation upon seeing you out of respect and appreciation but this? Nah, I don’t think so. This is about on the same caliber of myself being invited to the man’s house. I should have declined like I originally intended to.

“Heather! Oh my gosh. I didn’t know you’d be here.” Taylor stepped around my suddenly reluctant frame and immediately went into the beautiful woman’s awaiting arms.

“I’ve been in town for two weeks now. I head back tomorrow, but I figured I’d come out here and watch my boy play before I do. It’s so good to see you Taylor. I didn’t know you were coming with Sarai.”

“I’m crashing at her house while in town for some work with the Bleacher Report. So, she dragged me out. I’m glad she did though.”

“You knew I was coming?” I’d finally spoken up. I had to ask.

“Of course. Odell told me. How are you Sarai?” Once again, she opened her arms and she awaited my presence. How could I turn her down? The embrace was not only warm and welcoming, but it felt very maternal. It’s been quite some time since I embraced my own mother, so I appreciated it along with the kiss she planted on my cheek. I’ve always heard about how pleasant she is and she has lived up to that since our first meeting in Bristol.

“I’m well. Thank you for having me.”

“Oh no, thank you for coming. O will be thrilled. He was very adamant about me making sure you’re well taken care of while here, so I intend to do that so that you can give him a good report when you leave.” Both she and Taylor chuckled and yet Taylors came with widened eyes and eventually a smirk that I wish I never saw. With Heather standing alongside her, I was the only one who could see her teasing facial expressions and if I weren’t respectful enough to watch my mouth in front of Beckham’s mother, I’d tell her about herself.

“Are more people coming?”

“His friends are here, but they’re out there in the midst of the madness. That’s where they like to be. I was down there for a bit while he was running a couple of drills but I came back up here.”

“So, it’s just us in here?” He could have gotten us regular ol’ seats. Seriously Beckham?

“Yes. Just us. There will be food and drinks. They also have lounges where you can go and have drinks and hang out if you’re interested. You don’t have to be in here with this old gal if you don’t want.”

“Old gal? Don’t be silly! You look incredible.” I nodded in agreement with Taylor. I hope to look just as incredible as she does when I’m somewhere around her age.

“You do. I’d rather stick around so that I can get tips on how to remain so great looking.”

“My tip is to remain as stress free as possible and to keep doing whatever the both of you are doing, because you’re both absolutely stunning women. I always say that the both of you are a breath of fresh air amongst the men within your field. I also give a ton of credit to Jemele Hill, Pam Oliver, Lisa Salters, Cari Champion, Josina Anderson, Erin Andrews, Sage Steele, and Kim Jones. She’s such a good one when it comes to O. I’m sorry if I’m a bit biased to the reporters who actually take the time out to understand him.”

“No, no. I get it. And you’ve named so many women that I look up to.” I’ve gotten the opportunity to meet every single woman she listed and I chose to just sit and soak up all of the advice and gems they were willing to offer so that I can transition into my sportscaster role in a knowledgeable space. It’s even more incredible that the majority of the women that she named are black faces. While there aren’t many of us, the ones that are around cannot be missed or mistaken.

“And now you have so many who look up to you, like my Jazzy. It’s full circle.”

“Aww, thank you. Is she here too?”

“No. She’s home. She’ll be up here soon enough and she’d love to meet you. She and Taylor are already homegirls, according to her.”  “That is my homegirl. I love her.” I wouldn’t be able to escape this one and with the expression on Taylor’s face as she grabs a bottle of water off of the table, I better not even try.

“Of course. We’ll set something up.” Yet again, I’ve done something to further my connection to the Beckham Family. It’s all starting to feel like one long running coincidence at this point.

I threw the somewhat of a diet that I’m following right out of the window as I sat with a plate filled with the chicken tenders and fries that I wanted so badly. I’d been putting it off to the side, since I was so tapped into the game, but it could and probably will be finished before I leave out of here. Beckham didn’t lie when he spoke about the intensity of the games versus the Eagles and despite being inside of the suite, I could feel the energy of the nearly seventy thousand spectators in attendance. Though I came into this with a plan not to cheer for any team, I couldn’t help but to become a temporary Giants fan as I threw the Beckham jersey over my head and joined in with both Heather and Taylor’s frustration as the Giants went scoreless in first, second, and third quarters.

“Ugh! Come on.” I had to move the plate out of the way. We were already two minutes into the fourth quarter and nothing was on the board. That just about ruined my appetite.

“Come on Eli. Throw something good!”

“We have to score something. Come on Beckham!” All three of us were damn near pressed into the stainless glass windows and aching in anticipation. It was as if the man heard my plea, because within seconds after it, he received a ten-yard catch from Eli Manning and went zipping down the field to give the Giants their first touchdown of the game. The piercing scream that spilled out of my mouth damn near caused me to frighten myself as I jumped up and down with excitement. Now the shit talking could begin. Sure, were still down by seven and we nowhere near any Eagles fans, but still. Shit talking is always fun.

“Alright, we have to tie this. We can do it. That just gave us a bit of momentum.” My loud claps filled the room as I paced back and forth in hopes of a miracle from my chosen team for today.

“We got this. We got this.” Heather’s hands met my shoulders and she gave them an encouraging squeeze as her own excitement ripped through her body. It has to be beyond awesome to have such an explosive player as her kid, but then there’s the pressure. Gosh, I’d be the worst sports mom ever and would need a lifetime supply of aspirin.

“You’re going to be hoarse by the time we get out of here.” Taylor laughed while shaking her head at my antics. A shrug was my response.

“So what! We have to win this thing!”

In less than two minutes later, Eli threw a four-yard pass to Beckham that resulted in yet another touchdown for him. We’d officially tied the game and I just about lost my mind. I could literally feel his energy within the suite as he celebrated his touchdown in the showboating manner that he always does and yet I loved it. In the midst of watching them online, I could understand why people tossed the arrogant title on him and hated his celebration dances. Now, while here, looking at it live, it’s the best shit ever. How can you not celebrate after making the game tying touchdown? Shit, I’m dancing with him.

“Let’s go!”

Eli’s seventy-seven-yard pass to Sterling Shepard to give us a touchdown to take the lead made our suite sound like it was filled with more than just three people as we screamed in thrill. The Eagles tied the game once more and a field goal put us in the lead once again with just a little over two and a half minutes left on the clock. What we all thought would be the game to finally give the Giants a win after being down two games was short lived by two field goals that resulted in the Eagles again tying the game and then finally beating us by three.

I don’t think I’ve felt disappointment like this in quite a while. While the other two women within the room with me took the loss with good hearts and applauded the team for a solid effort and comeback within the fourth quarter, I sat in silence because I felt like we were robbed. We were supposed to win that game. How could we lose after those three touchdowns and that field goal attempt? That’s bullshit.

“It’s alright Sarai. They’ll get a win in when they play in Tampa Bay next week. They gained some momentum today. They just have to apply that same energy every single time.” It sounds good, but I would have liked to win today!

“Yeah, I know.”

“You sound like a kid who lost their little league game. You didn’t even play and you’re sulking more than they are.”

“Because, we could have gotten that one T.” And we should have.

“I know. It was looking good in the fourth. I thought we had it too, but it is what it is. They’ll get them next time. They play the Eagles again this season and we’ll come back to see them have their revenge.” I’m holding Taylor to that. We’re coming back for that game.

“I guess that’s fair.”

“I’m sad that it’s over. I really enjoyed your company ladies. I’m so glad that you came out.” I can admit that I enjoyed myself too. Usually, I’d be curled up on my couch right now, eating dinner, and mentally preparing myself for the week head and instead, I was able to let loose and go crazy over some football. I’d pick that every single time, if I could.

“Thank you for having us. I had a blast. I’m pissed we lost, but I still enjoyed it so much.” It was my turn to draw her in for a hug and I did it with no hesitation.

“And was everything to your liking? My son’s going to want a report.”

“Of course, of course.” We all laughed at how much she emphasized the reality that he absolutely will ask her about how things went today. Well, he has nothing to worry about. He fulfilled his thank you beyond what I could have ever imagined and I’m appreciative of it. He never owed me anything in the first place and after this, he’s more than repaid me. If anything, I owe him.

“I’m sure we’ll be doing this again at some point.”

“I think so too.” Taylor swiftly agreed with her before I could get a word in. Gosh, she better sleep with one eye open when she goes to bed tonight, because I’m going to whack the shit out of her with a pillow as soon as I get an opportunity to do so. She’s been on a roll tonight with the slickness and I’ve let it slide because it’s been jokes in-between she and I, more so coming from her alone, but now she’s involved someone else in it and she’s putting false hopes on the table that I have no capability of fulfilling. This is supposed to be and is going to be a one-time thing.

“Sounds good. Give me another hug before you two get out of here. Also, drive back to Jersey safe. Taylor, text me when you two get there.”

After those hugs, we ended up spending an addition fifteen minutes talking and I’d even exchanged numbers with her so that we could set up that meeting between Jazzy and myself. It would be my thank you to Beckham for the fun filled day here in Philly.

Despite our rush down to my car, the traffic to get out of the stadium wasn’t as beatable as we wished it would have been. We were bumper to bumper for over a half an hour and that continued as we hit the highway to head back to Edgewater.

Phenomenal game, Beckham. Nine receptions, seventy-nine yards, and two touchdowns. You and Shepard balled out. You won in my book. Keep that energy going. I know it feels a bit discouraging to not have gotten a win yet, but you’re only three games in. There’s plenty of time to turn things around and I know that you will. Rest up. And thank you for the invitation. I enjoyed myself.

I know it’s against the law to text and drive, but I’m barely driving. I’m not sure if it’s just general traffic or if there’s some sort of accident further ahead but if God is on my side, he’ll work with my impatience and get things moving along. This is what I didn’t miss about driving.

Thank you, Sarai. I wish I could’ve gotten a chance to see you after the game. I saw the picture you took with momma. You look better than me in that jersey.

I really hate that I blushed. I had to roll my eyes at myself more so than him. Get it the fuck together Sarai.

I doubt that. I’m sure the world will disagree with you as well.

And every single woman that lusts over him and his every move, daily. It’s no secret that he is probably the most sought-after bachelor in the NFL. He’s one of the youngest guys playing and the cherry on top is his lack of children. I’ve heard the chatter, simply because it’s quite hard not to. Even in my field, where he is technically forbidden fruit, he’s still a hot commodity off the field. I’d like to think that aspect of things is why he has so much media attention around him even when he isn’t playing. No one gives a damn about what Eli Manning and Abby McGrew Manning have going on within their home, but the hot, young, and black receiver? They’d much rather stalk him.

My boy Shep has this little bowling alley in the apartment building that he lives in. We’re all going to meet up over there for a bit. You should come through so that I can sign that jersey for you. I texted Taylor about it too.

Immediately, my eyes shifted in Taylor’s direction and her own playfully rolled in the direction of the window as she dropped her phone into her lap.

“Really, Taylor?”

“What? What’s the big deal? It’s a little kickback. O’s cool people. I think you know that at this point.”

“You do realize that you’re taking things a bit too far now?”

“How the hell am I taking things too far when the man has your number, invited you to a football game of his, and is now texting you about coming to hang out? You allowed him into your space, not me. I didn’t push him in your direction.”

“I’m starting to think that you probably told him that I’d be at the Bleacher Report party.”

“And so what if I did? He wanted to meet you, so I told him that you’d be around. I didn’t know what would come of it and I still don’t see what the big deal is now.”

“You know exactly what the big deal is.”

“No, I don’t. Why don’t you tell me?” Despite my tone, she annoyingly batted her eyes while whistling in anticipation for what I would say. I shouldn’t have to say it and I’m not going to, because she already knows. If anyone knows about the boundaries that we shouldn’t be crossing in any capacity, it’s her.

“You can be such an ass.”

“Or you’re arguing with me because deep down, you want to go. We can just stop by.”

“You do realize that I have to be at work first thing tomorrow morning, right?”

“I just said that we can just stop by.”

The internal battle intensified more than I expected it to as I pondered about what would come of this. It’s been quite some time since I’ve surrounded myself with a bunch of testosterones beyond ESPN and I have never in all of the years that I’ve been a sports journalist, deliberately hung out amongst athletes of any sport or circle. Though I’ve been to a ton of events where I’ve mingled among them for the sake of networking and people polite, there have never been instances of privacy or secrecy.

I’ve never been to their homes, their family events outside of charitable ones, or any other possible shindig. I’ve declined many invitations, whether they were extended to me out of flirtation or respect, and Beckham’s should be of no difference and yet here I am contemplating what could possibly be the big deal about it if I do stop by. Taylor’s advice about me needing to live my life always plays in the back of my mind whenever I’m reluctant to extend myself beyond my profession, but tonight shouldn’t be a factor within that. Nothing about him or involving him should be a fucking factor.

“Thirty minutes tops.”

“Fine.” And just like that, I’m taking the plunge. Whatever happens, happens. Actually no. Thirty minutes and all of this is all said and done.

Send me the address.

It took us an extended hour and fifteen minutes longer than the typical driving time to get us back to my place from Philly. Taylor forced me to wait in the car as she changed her footwear from sandals to Vans and minutes later, we were taking the fifteen-minute drive to Weehawken. I didn’t know Sterling lived so close to me. I remember Chanel mentioning something about him living in Hudson County when we were working on a Nike ad campaign together, but the exact city slipped my mind.

“I’m glad that ya’ll could make it out. We just bowling over some wings and non-alcoholic drinks. That game kind of did us all in, so the turn up is super tamed and lame tonight.” I suppose because we’re at his residence, it made sense for Sterling to step outside to greet us and properly direct where I’d be able to park my car.

“Sounds like Sarai’s kind of party.” And with that, I elbowed her in her side.

“Fuck you.”

“Sarai, you’re the turn down queen? I would have never thought. You stay checking the shit out of your co-hosts on that show. Both you and Chad are funny as fuck.” His laughter held an innocence that I’ve always gotten from him ever since he was a Goner at the University of Oklahoma. Sterling’s one of those guys who you can’t help but to cheer for. He has such a genuine spirit and he comes from a great family.

“I’m not the turn down queen. I’m just more on the chill side.”

“I can respect it.” Music blared from the miniature bowling alley as we walked through the lobby and eventually stepped inside, but the scene didn’t contain too many. As I expected, there was Chanel Iman, Sterling’s girlfriend, and two guys that I’m not quite familiar with. No Odell in sight. I guess Sterling was being truthful about the tamed vibe.

“Aw shit. If it isn’t the Most Wanted by Every Ballplaying Nigga number one and number two.” His loudness made his statement funnier than it should have been. It’s not the first time either one us have heard it and it won’t be the last.

“Ignore Ben’s stupid ass. Oh, and O’s coming. He ran upstairs to the crib.”

His introduction was just as amusing as his opening statement and he didn’t let up as he continued to speak about the never-ending lust for the “young thangs” that he described both Taylor and I to be. He introduced his friend as Kav. Chanel, I’ve known for a while now. I dabbling in modeling for the sake of branding, so we’ve crossed paths enough to be acquaintances.

“I left those kicks upstairs on the dining room table for you. Both colorways.” My heart thrashed against my chest cavity as the baritone of his sometimes-raspy voice resounded through my bones. It’s so low and soft, and yet powerful enough to command the attention of everyone in the room as their eyes shifted in his direction. His casual entrance felt like something grandeur as he halted in his steps and locked eyes with me. Staring became our form of communication, as his deep and intoxicating eyes expressed things to me that I don’t want or need to know. Though I couldn’t break the glaring, it was him who decided to do so by washing his eyes over my entire frame. I could have turned into a pillar of dust idly lying in the middle of the floor as Taylor touched my arm and suddenly pulled her hand in response to the endless number of goosebumps trickling along my skin and the lump in my throat? If I suffocate, then fine. At least this moment will cease.

“Sarai Nazaire.” My name flowed from his rosy lips so slickly and yet with a disbelief that I couldn’t quite understand. He invited me here.

“And Taylor Rooks.” Ben immediately interjected. I’m going to assume he’s to Beckham what T is to me.

“I see my homie. What’s up T?”

“Odell! My favorite guy!” Their embrace was first and I was glad of it. It allowed me some time to gain maybe ten percent of the composure I once had when I was sitting in front of my house and debating with myself on whether I should call it a night or not. I haven’t had much of it since then.

“Your favorite guy? O ain’t shit.”

“Never took you to be the jealous type brother.” He and Sterling shared a laugh in the midst of he and T’s embrace and then it was my turn. He hesitated just as much as I did.

“I’m so glad that you made it here. I thought you were going to stand me up.” Despite the extension of my arms, it was his large palms that drew me closer by my waist, and he eventually tightened his body around my own and slightly rocked the both of us from side to side.

“How are you?” I was going to stand him up. I should have stood him up.

“I’m well. You?”  “Good. Can’t complain.”

“I’m mad that I didn’t see ya’ll at the game. I started to come and sit up there with Heather, but I was with Tweedledee and Tweedledum the whole time. I didn’t even know ya’ll were there.” Chanel’s side eye to Beckham earned my laughter.

“I didn’t know you were there either, but I should have known. You’re always supporting the boo.” As she affectionately wrapped her arms around Sterling’s waist, she nodded to confirm my observation. They’re adorable together. The last guy she dated was Jordan Clarkson and despite their cuteness, I believe Sterling is the one. There’s something about their chemistry that just connects and has bonded into the strongest mold.

“Aye, we have drinks over here. Strawberry Lemonade. And there’s some hot wings, barbecue wings, and some odd flavored mango wing shits that Kav ordered. Ya’ll can help yourselves to it. We started two games. O’s whooping my ass because I’m letting him.”

“Nah, I’m whooping your ass because it’s what I do.”

“Anyway, as I said, I’m letting bleach boy win. We gon’ restart, so that we all can play. Since we’re in an odd number, we won’t do teams. We can all put twenty in for shits and giggles, and because I’m cheap as hell. Winner takes all.”

Though I hadn’t announced it, bowling has always been a side activity of mine. Both of my parents were apart of some neighborhood bowling club or whatever the hell it was back in the day and I’d always be there with them learning their techniques and observing all of the older couples and their decades old love for one another. Even with the warnings to “stay out of grown folks’ business” I was still able to be in the midst of the fun per my dad’s permission because he took me just about everywhere with him. Though slightly rusty, it didn’t stop me from winning a hundred and forty dollars tonight.

“Aye, Sarai and Taylor, let me ask ya’ll some real shit. No judgement. Ya’ll ever dated athletes?” It was Ben’s millionth question of the night and much like all of them, his curiosity always peaked in personal areas.

“One, a few years ago. I haven’t dated another since.” Kendall Marshall. I’m not surprised that she didn’t say his name, though.

“Sarai?”

“None, ever.”

“No one?”

“No.” The rumors are out there, but they’re all false. I’ve just never felt compelled to clear anything up because if I start, I’ll never be able to stop doing so.

“But wouldn’t that be an issue though?” Kav asked the anticipated follow up question.

“I mean, it all depends on the circumstances. If you’re an NFL reporter and you’re dating an NBA player, there isn’t much they can do to you in terms of firing you, though you may be frowned at about it. That’s not a conflict of interest. Some networks are stricter than others when it comes to that. Turner isn’t fond of it. The Bleacher Report doesn’t give a shit about who I involve myself with because they’re a bit more progressive, I suppose.” She half-assed the response which then caused it all to be left up to me to finish up.

“My show covers all major sporting news, mostly within the United States. Our most important coverage is always going to be the NBA and NFL, but it doesn’t mean that we don’t touch base on baseball, tennis, and a few of the others every now and then. So, as far as myself, it’s a conflict of interest no matter which way you look at it.” Yet again, our eyes locked with one another but he didn’t flinch in the manner that I urged for him to. I aimed to set up disappointment and he didn’t bite the bait. If anything, my words flowed into one of his caramel toned ears and right out of the other.

“I think when the heart wants what it wants, none of that other shit matters. It’ll figure itself out. Right?” His tongue lightly ran over his lips in unison with his nonchalant shrug and Chanel bid him a high-five in appreciation for his words.  “For someone so passionate about the sport that you play, I can’t ever imagine you doing anything to jeopardize your ability to be able to play it.” How or why would he ever? Love is great, but is having it in risky manners ever worth it? That always comes with sacrifice and adjustments that are life altering. Is it really love when you have to let go of so many different aspects of who you are to have it?

“Football is a major part of my life, but it isn’t my life. I’m starting to learn that a lot nowadays. I find myself praying for more time for myself, my family, and my life beyond that field. I’m not going to be playing forever. An empty ass house means that I don’t have much to show for what I worked so hard for. How does all of this even matter if I’m not sharing it? As far as the jeopardize part, I’m willing to fight for and alongside anyone who is going to do the same for me.”

“Why have people in your life that you have to fight for?”

“Because love, no matter which way it comes, isn’t always easy. It’s not supposed to be. I’m going to always fight for those that I love. You’ve never had anyone fight for you?”

He rendered me to speechlessness and a silence discomfort that I may not have masked with my facial expression. I had no answer to give or rather, I didn’t have one that I wanted to give him.

“Alright Sojourner Truth and Martin Luther King, there’s no need to be all deep about this shit. Damn. Ya’ll making me think and it’s too late for all of that.” Ben lightened the moment as Odell stood to his feet and he stepped away from the booth, but halted…for me.

“Sarai. I want to see your new ride before ya’ll go.” How the hell did he know that I was getting ready to throw in the towel and tell Taylor to come on?

“Go and I’ll meet you outside. I’m going to use the bathroom.”

Or she’s creating yet another awkward moment for me.

What was once ninety degree whether nicely calmed down to the high seventies and the cool breeze coming from the Hudson River soothed me as we walked along the exterior of the building. Beckham chose to leave his hands dug into the pockets of his windbreaker style shorts while my eyes panned down and remained focused on his crimson red Nike sneakers.

“Is that it?” I followed his finger and immediately nodded.

“Whew! That thang is on point. And you got the white too? Ain’t nothing like a clean pearly white car. I have to see the guts.” The guts?

It only took one press of a button to unlock the doors and just like that, he was sitting inside on the passenger side taking in the interior like a kid in a candy store. It’s pretty nice but I wasn’t anywhere near as impressed as he is.

“You doing it with this one. Nice pick Sarai.” I scoffed at his modesty. As if he isn’t the one who chose it.

“Shouldn’t you be complimenting yourself?”

“Not really. I gave you the advice, but I never picked out the specifics. This is better than I envisioned it, honestly. I figured you’d go for black or blue.” Black was the original choice until I saw the white one. It stood amongst all of the choices of its kind.

“It is pretty cool, huh?” As I slipped in on the driver’s side, I gave the car a start so that he’d be able to see the beauty of the interior illuminating in its nighttime mode.

“For sure. You look good in here. This fits you well.” For just that moment, he stared at the side of my head while I tapped my fingers on the steering wheel in an anxiousness for Taylor’s presence. Like the most dominant magnet, his aura drew my glare to him.

I’d always believed that perfection doesn’t exist, especially within men, and grandma Lèilin would immediately beg to differ. She informed me that there comes a time when a woman does lay her eyes on a man who is perfect for her in every single sense, flaws and all. He’ll be the most beautiful man she’s laid her eyes on. Grandpa Lesly was that for her.

I’ve never been so at a loss for words until being within this man’s presence. The symmetry of his face is sculpted to an unfair perfection and it impeccably compliments his narrow eyes. There’s no wild bushiness to his eyebrows; they’re tamed and follow the arches of his smiles and frowns. His nose is not too small and yet not too vast. It’s literally made to fit his face. His lips. Dear God. Small and yet supple. A perfect hue of rose. The full beard oozes confident masculinity and yet the bright platinum blonde mane of curls on top of head has this playful and unique sexiness that’s solely for him alone, no matter how many people try to replicate it. He’s beyond handsome; beautiful is more like it. I can see what makes them all go crazy, whether female or male. I understand why all eyes are on him. I’m drowning in the intrigue and yet seeking a lifeboat to get me the hell out of here.

“Eh. It’s a car.” That’s really all it is.

“I’m ready.” The sound of her dragging out the last word startled the both of us as she approached the passenger side and she playfully shooed the man out of my passenger seat and slipped inside after a brief hug with him.

“We enjoyed it O. Thanks for the invite.”

“It ain’t nothing. I’m just glad ya’ll came.”

“We’ll do it again for sure. I’ll catch up with you soon.” Their fists bumped and she closed the door behind herself. I figured that would have been the goodbye necessary for me to drive off into the night and yet his boldness continued as he stepped around to the driver’s side of the car and opened my door.

“Step out for a minute.”

“Why?”

“Just for one minute.” He awaited my hand to latch onto his own and it did within a couple of seconds. As soon as I was secured on my feet, he immediately drew me in for a tight hug and a soft kiss to the forehead.

“Thank you so much Sarai.”

“You’re welcome, Beckham.” The deep chuckle that rattled from his frame weakened mine.

“Am I always going to be Beckham? If you like the last name, I’m willing to share it.” And with that I drew away from him and lightheartedly mushed him out of the way. We’re not going there. Not now or ever, though I’m well aware that it’s a joke.

“Turn around. I have to sign your jersey.”

I did as he asked and stood still as he moved his marker from number to number along the back of it.

“What does it say?”

“Read it when you get home.”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight Sarai Nazaire.”

“What is it with you and the saying my whole name thing?”

“It’s sexy, very sexy.”

“Flirting comes natural to you, I see.”

“I’m not flirting. Flirting is filled with jokes. I’ve yet to joke with you.”

I slipped inside of the car to avoid the urge to look into his eyes once more. Closing the door create the barrier that I so badly needed. Yet again, my heart was thrashing against my chest and if I don’t get the hell away from him, I don’t think I’ll be good to drive us anywhere.

“Hit me when ya’ll get in so I’ll know you made it safe. No speeding Sarai.”

“We’ll text you.” Taylor answered for me as she messed with the radio to find a station of her liking. As I pulled away from the parking space, he stood there and watched. In my rearview window, I could see a final wave from him before he turned to walk away.

I couldn’t be bothered with my nightly shower as I began stripping out of everything covering my body. I’ll need it in the morning when I’m dragging out of bed to prepare for work. It’ll also work with the strong ass cup of coffee I’m certainly going to need.

“Goodnight!”

“Night!” Though I closed the door minutes ago, I’m sure she heard me.

As I tossed everything into the dirty clothing basket near my closet, I decided to take a peek at the signature on the back of the jersey. With the way he moved the marker, there had to be more than just his first and last name back there.

“Sarai Nazaire. There aren’t enough words to describe how thankful I am for you. Thank you for everything that you are and all that you do. You Are The Prototype.” And along the bottom was his notorious signature.

Rather than tossing it inside of the basket, I put it on a hanger and hung it up inside of the closet. My next move was to grab my phone.

Goodnight Beckham.

That’s enough for him to know that we made it in safely.

Goodnight Sarai Nazaire.

Sleep is the last thing that I’ll be able to do tonight. Whether my eyes are open or closed, all that I can see is him.

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