Page 1 of Raising Love
ONE
ivy
BRONX, NEW YORK - DECEMBER 2024
I adjusted my earpiece as I stood from my seat on the sidelines. The Ballers' basketball game had just ended, yet the arena was still alive with energy. Streamers continued to fall from overhead, and the crowd's cheers echoed around the vast arena as I made my way along the hardwood floor, my heels clicking beneath me.
Our eyes met as my friend Leo wrapped up another interview. I held up my microphone, emblazoned with the station’s logo, to catch his attention, and he gestured for me to come over.
It was game day at the brand new Bronx Metro Arena, the Ballers' newly minted home as of this year. The Bronx Ballers, after a three-game losing streak, had finally claimed a victory over their opponents. Sometimes, I had to remind myself that I was on the sidelines for work, not just for fun. My voice was hoarse from all the shouting whenever I felt the referee made a questionable call—which was far too often.
“What the fuck was the ref’s problem tonight?” I asked Leo as soon as I was within earshot. “You guys got beef or something?”
“I know, right?! Shit.” He chuckled, towering over me. “Just riding my back all night like my initials were MTA.”
Leo crouched down slightly to kiss me on the cheek, his sweat-slick lips brushing against my skin. I playfully pushed him away.
“Ew, LV. Come on,” I protested, patting my foundation dry. “Don’t mess up my makeup before I go on air.”
He snickered. “How long is this gonna take, anyway.” He lifted his arm to sniff his armpit. “I need a shower.”
“It’ll be quick,” I told him. “Three questions max, like always. Cool?”
“Cool,” he replied, pausing to dap one of his friends from the opposing team who passed by.
“You got lucky tonight,” the player teased.
“Is that salt I’m smelling on your breath?” Leo retorted, and I giggled at their banter. “It’s not good to be this salty. Too much salt isn’t good for you, man.”
“Ready when you are, Ivy,” announced Jim, my camera operator, as he navigated through the crowd.
“Great,” I nodded to Leo. “Ready?”
“Born ready, Ivy League,” he replied, using the nickname I despised but secretly found endearing.
Jim counted us down silently with his fingers.
I quickly ran my fingers through my hair, making sure it stayed neatly in its bun, and smoothed down my blouse. “You better not call me Ivy League on air, you hear me? I’m not playing with you.”
Leo laughed loudly.
“Three, two,” Jim counted down, then pointed at us as he mouthed one.
“I’m Ivy Pressman, standing here with the man of the hour,” I began, looking up at Leo. “The unstoppable Leo Vanguard, who killed it tonight with 12 assists and 5 blocks. It was almost unreal the amount of work this man put in on the court tonight, but don’t worry, I won’t let him steal all the glory, Ballers.”
Leo laughed beside me.
“Another amazing game, Leo.”
“Thank you, thank you,” he said, his voice carrying over the crowd’s noise.
“You’re keeping up quite the record this season. Any secret moves you’ve been hiding from us, or is this just natural Vanguard talent?”
“I breathe this kind of effort as easily as I exhale air, Ivy.” He smirked. “You know what’s up.”
“Mm-hmm,” I replied, playfully rolling my eyes. “I hear that, and I can’t even knock you because it’s justified. You did your thing tonight.”
He bowed, exaggeratively.
