“You know I will. Love y’all too,” I told her before she exited out of her end of the Live. Then I pulled my chair back onto the scene before settling in to take more requests.
There were a few more athletes who I had genuine friendships with, my everyday homegirls who couldn’t wait to make me double up on shots, and of course, Katianna’s ass who’d taken that whole birthday roast thing extra serious to the point that the comments were filled with nothing but laughing emojis. But it was a good time, made even better once I saw the final request I planned on taking come in, the cheesiest grin on my lips once his video connected and he said, “Happy Birthday, baby.”
Of course, just that little word was enough to have the comments lit up with people speculating on what was happening between us. But honestly, I didn’t even care, smiling hard as hell once he pulled Poochie into the screen and said, “Tell your mama Happy Birthday.”
Just the sight of our puppy baby made me want to cry, my lips pouting as I cooed, “Awww. I miss her.”
“You miss her too huh, girl?” Kage asked the dog, the way Poochie responded with a forbidden lick to his face making him put her down almost immediately. And while that whole exchange made me giggle, I found myself squirming once he looked back at the screen and bit into his bottom lip when said, “You look pretty.”
That was all it took to have me blushing like a fool, my eyelashes fluttering as I sang, “Thank youuu.”
Grinning back, Kage gave a clap of his hands as he sat up and asked, “Aight, now what we got? Shots? A birthday song? A speech?”
“How about all three?”
With a smirk, Kage shook his head when he answered, “Nah, you don’t want me to get to talkin’ about you. I’ma fuck around and blow up the spot.”
If the comments were any indication, the spot had long been detonated. And for that reason, it was nothing for me to shrug when I told him, “Blow it up, babe.”
“You serious?”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “It’s my birthday, and I deserve to be showered with all the love.”
“Well in that case, Happy Thirtieth birthday to you, my love, my best friend, my puppy baby mama...”
“Dude,” I interrupted with a laugh, Kage chuckling too as he defended, “See. Told you you shouldn’t have let me talk. Matter of fact, let me just serenade you instead.”
With that, he took it upon himself to sing me some long, drawn-out R&B rendition of the birthday song, his vocals making all the women who were watching go crazy with heart-eyed emojis as I just sat there grinning. And once he was finished, we took a shot together, Kage throwing his back before he said, “Damn I wish I was up there with you.”
“Me too,” I admitted. “But we’ll be reunited soon, I promise.”
“And you better be ready, cause…”
Before he could really get to talking crazy, I interrupted, “I’m pretty sure my parents are still watching. So with that, I’m gonna end this. Thank y’all for celebrating with me. Bye!”
After exiting out of the Live, I could only laugh to myself, the tipsiness from all the shots I’d taken well settled in as I moved from my set-up over to the couch to lay down. And while I was confident that the internet was already talking about what was unveiled in the seven minutes Kage’s shoutout had lasted, I was choosing to relish in the feeling of being loved so purely; especially once I saw Kage’s latest Instagram post of him flawlessly playing a cover of “Situationship” on his electric bass guitar with the caption, “For Her.”
Twenty
It was officially go-time.
I’d done all the required quarantining, taken all the tests, gotten down to Orlando just to do both of those mothafuckas again. And now it was time to do what I did best, being able to get out on the court with my squad for the first time in months lowkey feeling the first day of school even though it was only for practice.
My injury had taught me not to take any of these moments for granted though, since none of this shit was guaranteed. And considering the hyper-focused energy from my teammates the second we started running drills, it was clear the suspension of the season had had a similar effect on all of us since niggas were out here taking everything extra serious like it was a tryout, or like there were some girls watching us.
Speaking of girls…
Not being able to see Bleu before coming to Orlando fucked me up a little bit. We’d already been apart for a little over a month since she’d decided to go back to New York; a choice I was lowkey still salty about even though I understood her angle. And now, it was very likely that I wouldn’t be able to see her again in-person for another few months since I planned on taking my team all the way, that piece hard to wrap my head around since I already missed the fuck outta my woman.
Honestly, I was trying not to think about it too hard, instead focusing on the day-to-day that it was easy to find routine in since there was really nothing but basketball-related shit to do during the day and regular chill shit to do at night.
Watch T.V.
Play video games.
Jack off to Bleu’s nudes.
Order room service.
It was essentially like being away at an adult basketball camp, a dream for childhood-me who wanted nothing more than to be in a safe, stable place playing ball around the clock. But really, it was a dream for adult-me too, especially since the NBA was running a tight ship regarding the virus which made being here safer than being anywhere else in the country.
That brought me peace of mind.
Being able to hoop again also brought me peace of mind.
But Bleu claiming she couldn’t FaceTime with me cause her phone was trippin’ was messing up my Zen, especially once she said the Apple store wouldn’t even be able to take a look at it for at least another week.
Truthfully, I was ready to just say fuck it and send her ass a new one. But after she went on to explain that the one she owned was already synced to all her work stuff and how much of a hassle it would be to switch everything over, I let it go, settling for ordinary ass cake sessions that kept me up way past my bedtime and made for a tired couple of days leading into our first scrimmage against another team.
We had three of them this week before the “regular season” games would officially resume with an aggressive schedule of playing every other day. But I was ready for it all, completely locked in during my pregame routine until I heard Zeb ask, “Bro, ain’t that your girl?”
I assumed he was just fuckin’ with me since he knew how badly I’d been missing Bleu’s ass lately. But to humor him, I rolled my eyes and turned around anyway, my heart skipping a bit when I saw my baby standing on the sideline looking good as fuck even while masked up.
Somehow, I knew she was smiling too as she gave a little wave that sent me sprinting her way so that I could pull her into a hug, kissing all over her forehead since it was the only thing I had access to before I asked, “Baby, what the hell are you doin’ here?”
“I told you we’d be reunited soon,” she answered with a giggle, squeezing me tightly until one of the league folks stepped up to remind us we had to social distance. And even though that shit pissed me off, I still listened cause I didn’t want to get in any trouble, taking a very small step back as I told Bleu, “I ain’t know you meant like this, though. Damn. Got my heart beatin’ all fast and shit.”
“Save all that energy for the game, babe,” she insisted, her eyes filled with amusement when she added, “But I’m glad I could surprise you.”
Once she said “surprise”, everything seemed to click as I realized, “So that’s why your ass ain’t been able to FaceTime lately. You were in quarantine.”
“Longest seven days of my life,” she groaned. “But you know if you would’ve seen me with an unfamiliar background, you would’ve had all sorts of questions.”
Shaking my head, I hummed, “Mmhmm. I gotta watch you. Sneaky ass.”
“Anyway,” she giggled, giving a little bump to my arm when she asked, “You
excited?”
“Hell yeah. I’m about to tear that ass up tonight,” I told her, my dick already hard just thinking of all the spots in my hotel room we could make good use of until she clarified, “I was talking about for the game, fool. It’s your first one back.”
Shrugging, I replied, “It’s just a scrimmage.”
“Still your first live-game action since January,” Bleu reminded me. “And for the record, there will be no tearin’ up of any ass unless you wanna get us both kicked out of the Bubble.”
“Nooo,” I whined, my dick immediately going soft with sadness as Bleu nodded and explained, “As the rules currently stand, I can only go to practices, games, pre-scheduled interviews or vlog-related outings, and anywhere in the media’s restricted area where my hotel is with absolutely no access to team hotel rooms and no having anyone in my room under any circumstances.”
Even though I hated what that meant for us - my dick and I -, I tried to find a silver lining when I told her, “I guess it’s a good thing that nobody can be in your room since I know for a fact one of these thirsty ass niggas around here would try you.”
“You really think they haven’t already?” she asked with not a lick of tease in her tone, an immediate frown on my face when I inquired, “Who was it? Cause I got an elbow straight to the gut for they ass.”
Giggling, Bleu insisted, “Relax, Ron Artest. I can handle myself. You just focus on making this trip to Orlando count.”
For the moment, I was taking her advice, giving a short nod until I realized, “Wait. Did you say vlog-related outings?”
The excitement was all in her eyes as she answered, “That’s the other part of my surprise. In addition to working the sidelines, the network is having me do my very own vlog series, Inside the Bubble with Bleu Taylor.”
Once she explained what the show was all about and how excited she was about doing it, I was mad I couldn’t hug and kiss on her again when I responded, “That’s amazing, baby. Congrats. I know that shit gon’ have the internet going crazy.”
Everybody already loved Bleu from the content she put out on the regular, so I didn’t see the vlog series going any differently. And even though it was long overdue, I was hyped that her job had finally given her something of her own since I knew how frustrated she’d been about the postponement of her original show; the fact that it’d brought her down here of all places only making the whole thing feel like that much more of a blessing since that meant I was able to look her in the eye and tell her, “I’m proud of you, girl.”
I might not have been able to see it, but I knew she was blushing when she responded, “Thank you, babe.” And with that, I couldn’t help sneaking another little kiss to her forehead, the sight of my team slowly trickling into the locker room reminding me that I actually had a game to play as I told Bleu, “If I drop twenty, you spreadin’ them cheeks on FaceTime tonight.”
“Make it twenty-eight, and I’ll play with it too.”
“Gotdamn, I love you,” was the only way to respond to that, Bleu returning the love before I went to join my team. And even though they were all ragging on me about how having Bleu here was some sort of Bubble cheat code, I knew they’d benefit too since her presence only made me better, ready to lead my squad into this new normal that would eventually get us a championship.
For the first scrimmage, the game was shortened with ten-minute quarters instead of twelve. And since the medical team was still technically monitoring my ankle, Coach Kirkwood had me on a minutes-restriction that made it impossible to hit my target of twenty-eight points. But thankfully, Bleu didn’t hold it against me, using her company lighting to put on a show in her hotel bed later that night that had my mouth watering as I stroked my dick in my hand while watching her play with herself.
Every time she tweaked a nipple, I imagined it was my teeth instead. When she started rubbing her clit, I knew she’d be going even crazier if it was my tongue. And when she got to fingering herself, I found myself matching the pace and wishing it was my dick, nutting on myself almost instantly after Bleu came with a long, low moan.
Even alone, she’d managed to exhaust herself, giggling into the camera before she wished me sweet dreams. And knowing they’d be about her, knowing she was here, made it easy as hell for me to sleep like a baby.
The “regular season” was a whirlwind.
With twenty-three teams playing eight games apiece on one day of rest to determine the official playoff seedings, it was some of the most intense basketball I’d ever been a part of. But I was grateful since having those games had allowed me and my squad to make up for some of the losses they’d taken during the real regular season without me, getting us to a comfortable position as the four-seed in the Eastern Conference standings by the time it was all said and done.
It was a big improvement from the eighth seed we’d started the playoffs in last year, but that by no means meant we had an easy road since making it to the second round meant we’d once again be matched up against the top-seeded team out of Milwaukee. But after defeating them earlier in the season, I was confident we’d be able to hold our own; though the squad out of Indiana told me not to get too ahead of myself when they punched us in the mouth in game one of the first round.
That shit was embarrassing lowkey. But thankfully, there was only one day off before we got a chance to redeem ourselves, easily tying the series in game two that also ended up being one of my best games in the Bubble so far.
I was convinced Bleu had something to do with that.
Since she was technically here for work and not for me, that meant she didn’t have the privilege of being at every one of my games. But for the ones she was able to make it to, knowing she was on the sidelines always put a battery in my back, determined to show out and make my girl just as proud of me as I was of her with her vlog series that already had tens of thousands of subscribers after only four episodes.
Yeah, my baby was poppin’, her success pushing me to match the energy so that we could be together in the Bubble for as long as possible.
Well… as together as being on the same campus and bumping into each other at different practices and games. But it was only a matter of time until we could reunite on a physical level since the teams who made it to the second round of the playoffs would be allowed to have guests, the thought of being able to fuck my girl all the motivation I needed to go hard.
Honestly, it was wild that the league was even able to regulate my dick like that. But thankfully, even with our unique circumstances, we’d already been assured that Bleu would be able to have special clearance that no other media members did; though she’d only be able to use it for the purpose of spending time with me unless there was something scheduled with another player or coach beforehand.
She was good with that.
We were good with that.
But none of those plans were relevant if my squad got sent home early which meant I really had to focus up for game three, completely locked in as I hyped my squad up in the locker room before we headed out to the court.
Even with the music and the filtered in fan noise, there were still so many differences in comparison to playing in a regular arena. But once the ball was tipped, none of that shit mattered as much as getting the W, my team doing what had to be done to shut down ol’ boy from Indiana who’d already been crowned “King of the Bubble” from the work he’d put in during those first eight regular-season games.
Tonight, we had his ass looking more like a jester though.
Between Niko’s lockdown defense on homie, and me and Zeb’s dominance with the pick and roll, Indiana was simply no match for us. And after picking up another win, we let that confidence carry us into game four that ended in the same outcome.
It’d also ended with my ass on the bench, nursing my ankle that I’d tweaked randomly on a rebound. But even with the pain, I knew I wasn’t letting anything stop me from finishing out the series, grateful that game five went in our favor since that m
eant we’d earned ourselves a little break.
Twenty-One
I was worried about him.
He didn’t show it explicitly in front of his teammates or coaches. But I could tell Kage’s ankle was bothering him more than he was letting on, his subtle winces on every dead ball making it obvious to me that something was up as I watched the Trojans battle it out in game one of the second round of the playoffs against Milwaukee.
Even though I was technically at the game for work-related reasons, it was difficult for me to watch with an unbiased eye, only reminding me of the other reason why I’d always shied away from dating athletes.
Supporting them in high-stakes situations was stressful as hell.
Kage’s ankle problem only compounded that, especially since it was the same one that had taken him out earlier in the season. But being the competitor that he was, he wasn’t letting it stop him from giving the game his all, carrying his team into halftime with a lead worth being proud of even though I still had my concerns.
When I asked Coach Kirkwood about it during the break, he acted like it was no big deal, even going as far as insinuating that I was only worried because Kage was my man. And quite honestly, that pissed me off, only making me more hopeful that Katianna hadn’t been lying when she told me it was a strong possibility that his ass would be fired if this season didn’t end in a championship.
Not that I didn’t want the Trojans to go all the way.
Kage had worked extremely hard to make it back and was now working even harder to make something of this abnormal season, so of course I wanted them to win. But if for whatever reason things didn’t end up working out in their favor, I’d be first in line to wave Coach Kirkwood goodbye with Kage right behind me since I knew he didn’t like his ass either.
After the third quarter, the firing was looking less like a possibility and more like a definite with the Trojans not only blowing their lead but also ending up down ten going into the final quarter. And after my on-court interview with Milwaukee’s head coach, it was clear they were confident they were going to end the game with a victory; though Kage did his best to rally his team which led to them cutting the lead down to five going into the final three minutes.
On The Rebound Page 20