Arielle Stevenson, a determined hairstylist with dreams of owning her own salon, finds her past colliding with her present when NBA player Jordan Poole walks into her salon for a hair appointment. Despite Arielle's attempts to keep her distance, Jor...
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『 𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 』
𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫
"Arielle!"
"Arielle, wake up!"
The sound of rapid knocking along with Halo, Stephanie, and Raya's loud voices shouting through my bedroom door. Their commotion shattered the peace of my two hours of sleep—sleep I desperately needed after a late-night call with Jordan to jumpstart our (stupid) plan.
Their interruption cut even deeper into my morning. It was my day off, and I was supposed to be sleeping in, not being jolted awake.
"What?" I groaned, making sure they heard my irritation.
"Let us in! It's urgent!" Halo insisted, her knocks drumming loudly.
I rolled my eyes and burrowed deeper under my covers. "It's open," I mumbled, bracing for the chaos about to spill into my room.
Immediately, the three of them barged into my room, invading my space as if it was their own. Halo yanked the covers away, pulling her phone out like a weapon.
"Who is this?" Halo demanded, thrusting her phone in my face, displaying the picture of Jordan and me taken four weeks ago at our house.
"This picture was taken in OUR house, and it's you and some...guy! Who is it?" Stephanie added.
I couldn't help but smile to myself. The picture I posted of Jordan and me had gained unexpected attention online, holding a steady 21K likes. And who was in the likes?
Jordan.
He had even left a red heart emoji in the comments. From the flood of comments, it was evident that people were curious just by how they were replying to his comment, but Jordan had wisely chosen to remain silent.
Smart move, Poole. Very smart move.
I shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm not ready to tell yet."
Halo narrowed her eyes, unamused by my evasion. "Arielle, you know we'll find out eventually. Why not just tell us now?"
I just shook my head, fighting the smirk trying to break through. "It's complicated, okay? I'm not hiding him, just... it's not the right time."
Raya chimed in, her voice softer, trying a different tactic. "We just want to make sure you're okay, Ari. This guy, whoever he is, he's obviously special enough to make it to your feed. That's huge for you."
As Halo, Stephanie, and Raya bombarded me with questions about the mystery man in the photo, my phone buzzed with a text from Jordan. Ignoring the tsunami of questions, I discreetly checked the message.
Jordan: Hey, can you swing by the MedStar Health Practice Facility? Need you to drop off a t-shirt. Urgent.
I bit my lip, and with a quick reply – "On my way" – I slipped my phone back into my pocket.
