IILICIT AFFAIRS ━━ Lamelo Ball

3.4

I tried to avoid my second confrontation with Lamelo for as long I could. Two weeks had passed before Lamelo was able to make his attempt at reconciliation. Those three weeks I spent avoiding him. I left his messages on read, would suddenly be met with a deadline the day before (that was my favorite excuse), or some excuse I could come up with on the spot. Anything to not have to confront my ghost of the past.

When Lamelo wanted something, he really wanted it. I don't know what compelled him to want my forgiveness so badly— it probably has something to do with having me in the palm of his hands, just like our high school days— but he was determined. Week three, he began approaching me. You'd think it would be hard to avoid him given how big arenas are, but you'd be wrong.

It was the Warriors-Hornets game where it all fell apart. I was interviewing players from both teams. That same game was my first time on television as a reporter. My first on-air interview had been with Jordan Poole and the interview was pretty standard. We'd discuss their game plan, advice in which he'd received from his vets, and a whole bunch of other shit.

Afterward, I sat in my seat, scribbling ideas to write about. The chaos in my mind had been poured out in my notebook. In the midst of it all, Lamelo sat down behind me.

"So..." he started. His hands were beside his legs as he bounced the basketball in between his legs. "I still need to make it up to you."

"I told you. It's fine. What's done is done," I huffed, putting my pen down to look at him. The one thing I've learnt is that you should never look at Lamelo for too long. His charisma has this... compelling effect on anyone. Even straight dudes. It's like the gods blessed him with charm and sculpted him from gold. If you look at those brown eyes for too long, you might find yourself in a void that is him.

"You know, Anne-Breanna, this is very counterproductive to my whole apology tour," he joked. I couldn't help but snicker a little. "I can't be on tour forever."

"Well, the city of Rosario declines your invitation. Also, it's Winona. It's been Winona," I remark, plastering a fake, over-the-top smile.

"Anne-Breanna suits you much better," he said. "Anne-Breanna Ball has a better ring to it than Winona Ball."

I raised my eyebrow. "Don't you have a girlfriend?"

"Ay, don't shoot the messenger. I'm just saying facts." I rolled my eyes, ignoring his comment and picking up my ballpoint pen and began writing in my notebook. Lamelo leaned forward to look over my shoulder. "Poole says consistency is key. Defense needs work. Lockdown Ball offensively as he is not a threat defensively," he read. He adds his own commentary to my notes, saying "Ayy, he knows what's up. My defense has gotten way better since Chino Hills, by the way."

"Stop," I muttered while continuing to write.

Lamelo continued to pester me, reading, "Green and Looney need to stay out of foul trouble for Dubs to come out victorious— agree, meaning let's hope they foul. Hornets need to close out the three-point line as Poole/Curry/Thompson are a combined 43.6% on the line in their last 6 games— that's the game plan." He continued to read everything I wrote on the paper. "Lamelo Ball is a big-forheaded grasshopper who needs to learn how to play good def— Hey! I've improved a lot, actually."

"Okay, Mr. Cherry-picker," I say in disbelief, scratching that sentence out.

"I'll clamp your ass up any day, Ms. Anne Breanna," he commented.

"Oh nah... don't get me started on that shit. You were 6'2" and you could barely guard me. You can't guard me then and you can't guard me now."

"Whatever you wanna believe, Anne-Breanna," he picked up the basketball and rested it on his lap. "I gotta do my pregame workout. You're invited to interview me, but I gotta dip."