Naiara Bryant is a famous basketball player in LA, voted one of the best young females in America. When her family moves to Chino Hills, they move right across from the Ball family, and she meets LaMelo Ball. What will happen when they start falling...
"Let's cut to the chase. We both know why we're here. I don't wanna be here any more than you do. So let's make this quick."
"Ok, fine."
"I get one Pop-Tart, and you have the other." I say, and Gigi pouts.
"But I want them both!" She says.
"You know brown sugar is my favorite." I sigh.
"And you know that I need this for the game today." She says back.
"Um, you shouldn't be having all this sugar before the game anyway."
"Please Nai?" She asks, pouting.
"Puppy dog eyes don't work on me. Maybe if you were still a little baby." I say. She rolls her eyes and takes the pack of two, running out the kitchen. "Hey! Get back here thief!"
I chase her around the house for a good twenty minutes, playing the stupidest game of hide-and-seek.
"Gotcha! Now, gimme the Pop-Tarts!" I say, and she smirks, handing them to me. "Ugh, finally, I can-"
I look at the wrapper and see that she's already taken a huge ass bite outta both of them, and I groan, throwing it back at her.
"I hate you." I say, going upstairs and getting dressed and ready for school.
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"I look like a snack~" I sing, getting my stuff. Unplugging my phone from its charger, I see a text from Zo, telling me to call him. So I do.
"Hello?"
"Zo, how you gonna tell me to call you when you're barely awake yourself?" I ask.
"Cause, this is important. Are you busy this weekend?" Zo asks.
"Um, surprisingly no. I was gonna go shopping this weekend or sum."
"Great, so you're not busy. You're spending the day with me." He says, and I sigh.
"If this is about LaMelo-"
"It's not."
"And if this is another stupid love intervention-"
"It's not."
"And if I don't get food during-"
"You will."
"Great. Then I guess I'll hang out with you."
"Oh, and speaking of Melo-"
"NOPE!" I hang up and grab my basketball bag, going downstairs.
"Mom! Me and Nat are getting a ride to school!" I yell.
"Okay! How're you getting home?" She asks.
"Uh... good question? Dad, can you pick me up from school later?!" I ask.
