Page 23 of Definitely Not a Thing
“From the Kings?” I asked. “He came back from his injury, had a great season…”
“Yeah, and then he got shot behind somebody else’s woman,” Arthur cackled and I rolled my eyes. “He ain’t seeing the field again – those some nice ass watches he be selling though.”
“Are you implying the wack ass dude from upstairs is going toshoot mefor flirting with my neighbor?”
“I’m just saying it’s a possibility – and you know damn well flirting ain’t all you trying to do.”
I chuckled. “It’s all I’ll ever discuss with your gossiping ass,” I told him, then pulled the door open for the stairs.
I took them two at a time, ready to get out of my sweaty clothes and into the shower. Now that I wasn’t in the moment, the fatigue of my workout was starting to register in my limbs.
I checked my phone for anything emergent, then went about my usual routine – quick protein shake, shower, and then back to my phone.
I wasnotcomfortable, not at all.
I was essentially unemployed, and though bills weren’t a concern due to savvy planning and smart savings, my future?
I wasveryfucking concerned.
Basketball was my job – mylife.
I wasn’t on any superstar status shit like Kevion or Thierry –neitherof them could walk around the Heights or Blackwood like a regular person, while I still had that freedom.
I hadn’t had my “breakout” season yet.
I’d been, I believed, on the verge.
But then bullshit came knocking, and my stupid ass answered the door.
Now, instead of working out in the Brawler team facilities… I was running drills on cracked concrete in an empty lot.
I wasn’t defeated, though.
Benched, maybe.
I wasnotcomfortable, but I was confident – I had more wins coming.
And one of them had just moved in next door.
6/
amelia
I didnotlike unpacking.
Dare I say – I hated it.
Did I know I hated it?
No.
But it was the only logical conclusion for why, instead of unpacking, I was taking down box braids that I could’ve easily gotten another two weeks out of.
A month with the right headbands and scarves.
As soon as the last one came out, I was hit with an immediate sense of regret – I loved my natural hair, real bad, but I’d just added at least twenty minutes to my daily morning routine by having it out.
Not to mention the whole wash-day ritual I was about to have to go through.
