The Ride

Chapter Eight

Max

Three Days Later

Louisville, Kentucky

My conversation with Jay stuck with me for the next few days. I replayed it over and over in my head. It didn't help that him talking about me to ESPN was apart of the game's highlight package on Sportscenter. For so long, I did everything I could to bury him in the back of my mind. Hopefully, deep enough to where I could forget that he was ever a part of my life. However, just when I thought I was at that point, he pops up on his new flex and makes shit awkward as hell.

That night Emilia called my phone until I answered. As I figured, she knew something was up. She mentioned seeing his interview and asked me how I felt about it. I was honest in saying it made me uncomfortable but in some way appreciative given his status in the NBA. She understood, assuring me that there was nothing wrong with feeling that way, reminding me that at one point in time he was someone I had looked up to. Although I wasn't really feeling it, she told me that despite what happened to her I shouldn't hold any ill will towards him. She had forgiven him and moved on. The last thing she wanted was for me to harbor anger over it when I had such a bright and promising future.

If only she knew.

It was hard for me to not be honest with her. I trusted Em more than anyone in this world. On the flip side, I didn't want to interrupt her happiness with details of my actual conversation with him. If I did, she'd probably be on a plane to get to me before I finished. She was happily married, a mom and loving life. I wanted to keep it that way. She deserved that much.

I said what I said like a man and wanted to leave it like that-between men.

Basketball was my only escape and right now I just wanted to play. Our next game was tomorrow night at home against Miami. I was over practice. My mind was in game mode. Ready to prove myself over and over again. The hype behind my name was all real and I didn't need no verification from Jay to legitimize it.

After dinner in the commons with the team, I headed back to my room to shower and knock out some homework. Reagan came over, damp hair up in a bun, dressed in leggings and one of my Fairfax High sweatshirts that was oversized on her frame. She sat on my bed and started on her reading from one of her text books while I was at my desk. Both of use with ice on different parts of our bodies that ached. This had grown to become apart of our daily routine as college athletes.

"How much you got to do tonight?" she asked, breaking up the silence that happened intermittently as we both worked.

"Just a few discussion questions for one class, pick and submit a topic for a paper due next week and answer ten questions after I read chapter nine for my First Aid class. I'm almost finished cause I got started on it in study hall," I explained, "what about you?"

"All I have is discussion, but I hate them cause I have to reply to other people's post. For some reason, just saying I agree doesn't do the job for my professor," she palmed her forehead, "so annoying."

"Shit, I think we all feel like that. I be on here writing whole paragraphs and shit. But aye, if you gonna be 'dentist bae'you gotta put in that work."

I turned around and saw her smile. When she looked back at her books, I noticed that it faded a little. Her chest rose and fell with a deep sigh.

Something was on her mind.

"Hey, you okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I um- just asked about your workload cause I was kinda hoping that we could talk."

No nigga in a relationship ever liked to hear those words from his girl. My heart rate increased with worry as soon as she said it.

"Why? Something wrong?"