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I can be trusted.
Sadie hands me my appointment card and I thank her before walking out of the office and into the parking lot. Why the hell would she pick that place out of all the places in LA? I don’t even feel like going back and forth with her on the phone, I’ll just have to go there and drag her pretty ass out of there.
I’m already irritated by the time I reach the entrance to the stadium. Parking was a bitch today and it reminds me that the semester is close to starting up. No one spotted me, thankfully, and I know the court is empty since the team doesn’t start meeting for a few weeks. How did she pull this off anyway?
The door closes behind me, the sound of its latching echoing off the walls on the terminal, the smell of freshly polished wood floors and rubber fill my nose and the memories of Jackson hit me like every other time I’m here. After my session with Oliver, the last place I want to be is on this court, but here I am because she’s here, and even though being here is making me anxious right now, the thought of her keeps me a little balanced, and that shit scares me.
I’m still annoyed at the change of location.
She doesn’t know, I keep reminding myself.
I stop short when I see her… every time I see her, I swear she gets prettier, not even sure if that’s possible. Bliss is makeup free, like I like her, her long hair is tied up in a ponytail that swings across her back. My eyes travel down to her black sports bra that’s holding up her perfect tits, down her tanned flat stomach to where little pink shorts fit snug around her hips and ass. Fuck me, my dick wants to say hello. I readjust myself before I make my presence known.
“Where are the rest of your clothes or do you just like to wear less when I’m around.” I turn my hat backwards and smile as I walk up her.
Stormy eyes narrow at me. “They are called work-out clothes, asshole.”
I’m getting tired of her calling me an asshole.
“And what exactly have you been working out?” I lift an eyebrow looking down at her.
“Are you trying to call me fat?” She lifts her own brow, and places a hand on her hip.
“Never.”
She rolls her pretty eyes. “Where are your books?”
“In the car, wasn't sure they would be needed for this lesson.” I nod toward the basketball at her feet. “What's that for?”
Bliss bends over to pick up the ball, and I try not to stare at her ass again, but it's a nice ass.
“We're going to play a game.” She smiles proudly. “The best way to learn something is to connect it with something you like.”
Except I don't like to be here, but I can't tell her that because she'll want to know why, and I can't tell her that without her asking me questions, plus, she looks proud of herself, and I can't burst her bubble.
I nod. “Okay,” I say slowly. “And what game is this, exactly”?
She squints adorably. “It's like horse?” She doesn't sound too sure, and I want to laugh.
“Do you know anything about basketball, Arrow?” I rock back on my heels.
Bliss frowns. “Um yeah. The objective of the game is to shoot the ball in the net.”
My lips twitch. “Yeah, that's the textbook version, but do you even watch the game?”
She exhales loudly. “Well, no. It can't be that hard to get this in a hole.” She lifts the ball up.
“Yeah, that's what she said.” Did I just make a joke?
Bliss’s eyes widen in surprise and she laughs, “You're such a guy.”
“Last time I checked. So, go ahead, let's see your best shot.” I nod toward the hoop. “Can’t be that hard.”
Bliss makes a face and walks to the three-point line.
“Might want to move a little closer.”
She shoots me a dirty look but takes a few steps forward. Bending her knees, I watch as she uses both hands to swing the ball between her legs and releases it on the way up. Of course, the ball barely touches the net and hits the padded wall. Bliss stands there, both hands on her hip as her tiny foot taps rapidly against the wood floor. It's as if she's waiting for the ball to come back and explain itself.
