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 ★ 7:45 P.M.
Jordan was here. On time, might I add.
Stephanie, Halo, Raya and I were sitting on the couch when he arrived. When Stephanie opened the door and saw him, she gave the both of us a glare so intense that I thought at least one of us were going to drop dead at any moment underneath her gaze.
Knowing how much hatred she had towards Jordan, he might've been the one to drop dead. Not me. Thank God and all twelve of his disciples.
When she looked at me, she had this...look of nothing but pure disappointment and slight betrayal.
Did I feel bad? Yes. Was I gonna talk to her after Jordan left? For sure. Am I scared shitless for that moment?...
Most definitely.
Which is exactly why I've been (reluctantly) staying in the kitchen, "monitoring" Jordan as he prepped everything to cook. And by "monitoring", I mean sitting at the island with my laptop, having a nostalgia moment playing Papa's Pizzeria, while Jordan tried to navigate his way through the kitchen.
Jordan and I haven't spoken a word to each other since he walked through the door and we both greeted each other with a short "Hey". He had this look on his face...that said something that I didn't understand—although it did look a bit well, annoyed? Irritated? Angry?
All of the above?
I don't know. All I knew was that he and I kept making these sneak glances at each other, but instead of like the cute smiles and laughter after meeting each other's gaze, he rolled his eyes at me and I scrunched up my nose in confusion and annoyance.
Don't we just love awkward and annoyed silence? Answer: No. We don't... but here we are.
"So," Jordan says—finally breaking the silence. He turned around, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest. "Are we gonna talk about it or not?"
I raised an eyebrow, my eyes not leaving the screen. "Talk about what? And by the way, the water's boiling..."
"It's supposed to," he replied shortly. "And I mean, are we going to talk about what happened earlier?"
I let out a deep sigh and shut my laptop before giving Jordan my undivided attention. "Didn't we already talk about how to show you respect because I show you respect? What else is there to talk about?"
"You," he says sternly. "Talking to Shiloh. Matter of fact—not just talking to him, giving him your number. Cozying up next to him. Letting him fake show you how to shoot a basket—You already know how to shoot a basket, Arielle!"
My eyes widened in shock. Was he serious? I really hoped that he wasn't serious, because if he was I was either going to do two things: laugh until my sides hurt, or cuss him out until I didn't know any more words to use and had to make words up.
