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I grinned. “Yeah, but he’s just a handbag for the night. I’d love to move him to the next stage ... body warmer.”
We giggled like schoolgirls; some things never changed, thank goodness.
*****
I know I shouldn’t have done it, but who can resist? Josh was spending the night at his boyfriend’s place, so after showering and making a cup of tea, I sat in front of my laptop and searched for The Russian and Leesa. If I searched for myself there were years and years of sports reports, action photos, team shots, trophy awards, national team photos, glamorous season launch shots, interviews and fan pages, you name it, but you wouldn’t find many of me with past boyfriends.
I’d had a few relationships including one that had lasted for two years—my longest—but never with fellow athletes. The guys didn’t have a profile and no one was really interested in who I was dating. I thought back to the last guy I took to the Suns’ Ball with me – Sam. I had been pretty wild for Sam; Sam had been pretty wild for Sam too and every other female in the room, so humiliating. Turns out he really just wanted to hang with me to help his prospects for getting a basketball coaching job with his college team, like it would make any difference.
I wondered if the girls were right; if The Russian and I going to the Ball together would fuel a few rumors.
I wished I hadn’t looked because there were hundreds of photos of The Russian and Leesa, and bummer, she was gorgeous. She had this long, wavy blonde hair and was petite and cute. She was a mixture of fashion plate and bohemian, and she looked gorgeous on the arm of the tall, handsome Russian. She was so not me.
There were plenty of stories, too, about her father, Harry Hart, one of the country’s most successful and rich film directors. It looked like Leesa had spent her life in the lap of luxury around studios and film stars. She was Hollywood, which begged the questions, how had she met and ended up with The Russian?
She had more followers than my entire basketball team on Facebook and Twitter. There were hundreds of shots of her with The Russian in a hundred poses – none of which he looked really comfortable in considering he wasn’t a stranger to getting his photo taken. There were shots of her driving her Mercedes, at openings with gal pals, cutting ribbons, modeling, partying, with her father, with famous actors ... crap. The Russian was not going to be interested in me after partying with a wild child, rich girl like Leesa. I was the gym locker type, she was a socialite.
I closed my laptop and began to coach myself. I didn’t need a man to make me feel complete, I was a successful, attractive, and intelligent woman. Friends have told me I have great legs and a good butt, my hair is one of my assets and God knows, I’m funny! Ha, yep ... I was going to enjoy a night out with another successful athlete and then ... move on.
