(Beyoncé x Y/n G!p)
In the world of collegiate sports at the University of Houston, Y/n stands out not only for her basketball prowess but also for her reputation as a charming player off the court. Hailing from New York City, she navigates life as...
Y/n's POV Guy V. Lewis Development Facility Houston, Texas Sunday _______
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The gym echoed with the sound of dribbling basketballs and the occasional whistle from the coaches. I was bent over, drenched in sweat and gasping for breath. The conditioning sessions Coach K set up for me were brutal, but they were what I needed to refocus. The weight of the last few days was still heavy on my shoulders, but at least here, I could channel my anger into something productive.
"Good hustle, Y/n!" Coach Adams, the skills coach, shouted with his hands clapping together as I sprinted down the court. I nodded, too winded to say anything.
I had managed to avoid my phone all day because I knew King and my mom were likely blowing it up.
After Coach Adams finally called it a day, I took a long, cold shower and got dressed. My muscles were sore but my mind was slightly clearer. I grabbed my phone from my locker and saw a missed call from an unknown number, along with a text that read, "Need to talk. Meet me at our usual spot."
It was from King. I had been avoiding a conversation with him since he got me out of jail. I didn't need anymore jobs piling on to me after the recent event.
I sighed, wondering if it was a good idea to meet up, but I knew if I ignored this nigga any longer he'd trip out.
I just don't want to involve myself in anything right now that could get me in more trouble. Coach K been monitoring me like a hawk, as well as other admin on campus. I can't risk my scholarship.
Despite my exhaustion, I decided it was worth it. Maybe this nigga will be on some cool shit and offer a distraction from everything else.
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The park was empty except for a few scattered people walking their dogs and a couple of kids on bikes. King was sitting on our usual bench, looking out over the empty playground. He stood up as soon as he saw me, his face breaking into a sly grin.
What the fuck is this nigga so giddy for?
"Y/n," he said, dabbing me up. "Good to see you."
"You too," I replied. "What's up?"
He motioned for me to sit down next to him. "I haven't heard from you. I get my people to get you out and you vanish on me. That's what's up."
Fuck.
I took a deep breath, looking out at the empty playground. "It's a long story, man. Practice been keeping me busy, but my coach and admin are on my ass bad. I been tryna lay low. Pick up less jobs until they off my back. It ain't no disrespect though, nigga. I'm just tryna make sure I'm good at the end of the day."
He looked at me, waiting for more. "I figured, but when you get back to it you gone have a book load of shit to do."
I nodded. "You know I can handle that shit easy."
King's eyes narrowed. "Just like you handled that nigga from the alley?"
I laughed before speaking. "Nigga, I had bruh laid out. Fuck you talking bout'. That nigga had to pull a gun on me because his hands wasn't touch mine."
King reached out and squeezed my shoulder, a deep chuckle leaving his mouth. "Nah, I know. I'm fucking with you."
"But on some serious shit, you playing with my money. So, when you get your shit together, hit me up. I don't want to have to clip you." I laughed at his slight threat.
"Man, what I told you about threatening me? That shit don't work on me."
He wore the same grin from earlier, "Yeah, aight. That's cause you ain't did no shit yet."
I shook my head laugh, knowing that I would pop this nigga before he even had the chance to come at me sideways. "I hear you."
I ain't hear shit.
We sat in silence for a while, just enjoying the calm of the park.
When me and King weren't conducting business, we've always been been good at just being there for each other, no matter what. And right now, that was exactly what I needed.
Finally, he spoke up. "Have you heard from that broad you tryna bag? Or she don't want no jailhouse nigga like you?" He joked.
"Nigga, fuck you. I ain't heard shit from her though. I ain't been around her since." I leaned back on the bench, playing with my hands as I thought about Beyoncé's fine ass.
She was allowing me to be mad close up on her at the bowling alley. So I would say she feeling a nigga, but you never know with these chicks nowadays.
Plus, she got that ugly ass nigga on her arm.
I shook my head grinning. "I heard her fine ass was good though."
"That's good to hear," He said. "Imma have to see this broad, she gotta player tryna sit down. When the last time you got play?" He asked that last question trying to sneak diss me.
"I always get play, nigga. Ask yo old ass when the last time you got any." I shot back.
"Yo moms don't think I'm too old." King replied. "Don't worry about that though."
I nodded, before busting out laughing. "Don't say no shit like that no more."
As the sun began to set, we said our goodbyes and I headed back to my apartment, feeling a bit more grounded. The reality of my situation was still looming, but for now, I had a plan. Focus on basketball, take it one step at a time, and maybe, just maybe, things would start to fall into place.
I just hoped this work with King wouldn't fuck me up anymore than it already has.
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Just another short filler chapter. Nothing too crazy.
How do y'all feel about King?
Do y'all think he can be trusted?
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