Page 59 of Tyriq & Teaira
Tyriq is looking straight ahead, focusing on the stage, and I’m focusing on him. As the commissioner continues to speak, my eyes never leave Tyriq and neither do my hands. One is caressing his back and the other is resting on his thigh.
“We are in a new era of basketball where every team has a shot. Which team will emerge as next season’s champion? Let’s see because the competition begins tonight. Let’s get started,” the commissioner continues and the crowd erupts in applause. Tyriq’s hands cover mine on his thigh and he squeezes it. He exhales so loudly that I can hear it over the loud crowd. “With the first pick in the NBA Draft, the Crescent Falls Royals select Tyriq Hill from Crescent Falls University.”
He said Tyriq Hill? Did he?
From the applause and the sight of Quay jumping in place, the commissioner did say his name. Tyriq is the number one draft pick and he was selected by his dream team. Miss Latisha is bawling her eyes out but I’m still in disbelief and clearly so is he.
Instead of standing and running to the stage, he drops his elbows on his thighs then buries his face into his hands. The crowd is going crazy but he doesn’t budge. I inch closer and lean my face close to his. While caressing his back, I say, “Baby, you did it and they are waiting on you.”
“I did it because he said I couldn’t. You know how fucked up that is,” he utters while slowly shaking his head.
“Yes, baby. I do. But at the end of the day. You did it. You. Tyriq Hill and they just called your name as the number one draft pick. This is your moment not his. Go get what you deserve,” I say and he drops his hands.
He leans in and kisses my lips over and over. Then, slowly, he stands. With so much style, he coolly gathers his jacket and buttons the middle buttons. The applause gets thunderous as he does. I stand too and he pulls me in for a hug, lifting me off my feet while whispering, “I love you,” in my ear. He steps to his mom next and embraces her. Quay jumps in his arms and he kisses her cheek.
With so much confidence and swag, he makes his way to the stage, stopping to shake hands and dap it up with others along the way. When he steps up to the podium, he grabs the Royals cap and proudly places it on his head. Then he walks over to have his much-deserved moment with the commissioner. Right when he shakes hands with the commissioner, I feel a light tap on my shoulder. Pissed off at the interruption, I swing my head back with a scowl on my face. It instantly drops when I see it’s Carsen.
He steps closer and says, “They need y’all on the square to the left off the stage when he walks off.”
Hurriedly, he leads the way. After standing with the commissioner while hundreds of cameras clicked, Tyriq steps down from the stage. We are here along with a woman reporter and cameraman. He takes my hand and pulls me closer to him. The microphone is in his face seconds later.
“Tyriq. The moment has been realized. How do you feel?” she rushes out.
Tyriq. The moment has been realized. How do you feel?
Four hours have passed and the reporter’s first question is still ringing in my ear because I don’t remember my answer. My thoughts and words were caught up in the moment. It was asked several more times tonight in several different ways but it all the same. Everyone wants to know how I feel and I still don’t have a concise answer. I’m in a space I’ve never been.
Things are happening all at once at a rapid pace but I seem to be strolling through like it isn’t. This shit is unreal as hell and I can honestly say I real shit know what it means to be on cloud fucking nine because I was on it when I placed this Royals cap on my head. I’m still on that shit now as I sit in the back seat of this car.
I did it. I fucking did it. First overall! Number one. But…
How do I feel? Blessed.
Not only did I just get drafted first overall but I was selected by my dream team. I will be balling on the court with players I’ve admired for a minute. I will be proudly sporting a Royals jersey in the upcoming season. I did that shit and I’m getting paid well for doing it. I signed for a projected four-year deal worth around fifty-eight point seven million, earning about thirteen point eight million in my first season.
My reality far exceeds anything I dreamed of and so do my feelings. I’m speechless, blessed, hyped, overwhelmed,happy, and eager to show my team and coaches that I’m worth every fucking penny.
“Are we there yet?” Teaira’s soft voice says, pulling me from my thoughts.
My moms and Quay headed back to the hotel two hours ago but she stayed right by my side. Even when I tried to force her to leave, she refused. My sexy, feisty, supportive, and stubborn girl stayed with me. Every time this shit was started to get to me and had me in my head, she got me together. She calmed my ass down and made sure I was straight.
How do I feel? Loved.
After lifting her head from my chest, she asks again, “Are we there?”
“Nah, bae. This traffic is a beast. We’re not moving.” We’ve been stuck in traffic since we left Barclays twenty minutes ago. My mom and sister took the Sprinter back to the hotel and Mick sent this Range for us. It has blacked out windows, extra leg room, and a privacy partition.
“Shit. You should have gotten something to eat.”
“I wasn’t hungry. Did you eat though?”
“Oh, I ate,” she says, then laughs. “While you were talking to the press, I was enjoying the food Mick had in the suite. Poor Carsen probably fixed me three plates. My feet were hurting too bad to get them myself.”
“Are they hurting now?” I ask but before she can answer I grab her ankles and lift legs. One by one, I manage to remove her heels then massage her feet to give her some relief. “This is why I told you to leave.”
“And miss this? Uh uhn,” she moans. “Besides, I wasn’t leaving you. Even in the background, I needed you to know I washere,” she says, confirming what I already know and feel. Just like I got her and our baby, she has me. She holds me down no matter what.
“And I ’preciate that but you’re pregnant.”
