by Tyla Walker
Career-wise, he knows what he wants, and he goes for it. His love for basketball is an inspiration to people who love and respect the sport. For him to go through this far to keep his career as a baller, to even come to me and suggest something absurd, I can’t help but admire him.
Just a tiny bit.
After we close the deli, Weston insists that we go out. “Come on! The night is still young.”
“I don’t know. You guys already went out. Plus, we don’t want to trouble you anymore,” I reply to him, already ready to turn down his invitation.
But Weston is getting smarter because he then asks Jasmine what she wanted to do. She says that she likes to go bowling. Then as if they already planned this earlier on, she looks at me with those big puppy dog eyes, those cute eyes that shakes my core.
“Please, mommy?”
“Fine.”
I just can’t resist that look. I’m not sure if Weston knows it’s my weakness, but he’s giving me that same annoying smile he gave me earlier. He knows. He definitely knows, and he’s using it.
“Bowling, huh?” he suddenly says as if he did not just plan everything to go his way. “I’m not sure about bowling. I am not good at that sport at all. Hopelessly, terrible.”
Why does it sound like he’s making that up? The more he says he is terrible at the sport, the more I think he is actually good at it.
“But since my African Queen, and her African Princess says bowling…” he gives a long pause, then he continues his little flattery speech. “Then bowling it is! To the bowling alley!
“Yeah! To the Bowling Alley!!!” Jasmine joins him as the two go and hop at Weston’s luxury hatchback.
I feel like he brings a different car each time he comes here. Last time it was a jet black 2020 Ford Mustang Shelby GT500; the other night, it was a glaring red Audi R8 V10. Just how many fucking cars does this guy have? I am not even sure what this one is. It’s a BMW I3, I guess.
“Before we go in some bowling alley,” I make sure to tell the hype kids to hold their horses. “I have to change first. I will not go bowling while I smell like a sandwich.”
“Yes, my queen~” Weston bows his head slightly with a hand on his chest. So I tug his ear, and he yelps. Jasmine just laughs at the back, seemingly proud of her mom for being able to do that to a famous baller.
I wink at her in return.
It doesn’t take too long for Weston to drive us back home for a while so I can take a shower real quick and change into something I can bowl with. Once that’s over, I hop back in the BMW, and Weston leans in to steal a quick kiss on my cheek. It doesn’t bother me anymore. No, it doesn’t. My heart isn’t beating faster because of it. Nope. Not me.
But my heart betrays my mind.
We have a great time bowling. Weston and Jasmine get into a huge competition about who is the better bowler. Apparently, the two of them are above average in their skill set when it comes to this sport.
“I thought you’re bad at this game!” Jasmine exclaims to Weston.
“Just hustling little Jas,” he says proudly like it’s cool.
“I preferred it when you call me an African princess.” She pouts back at him as she gets back her bowling ball and is ready to wipe the floor with Weston.
The two are good, while I try my best not to get my ball in the gutter. Nevertheless, it’s fun looking at these two going at it and trash-talking the other.
Jasmine wins the first game, and he wins the second.
“Time to end this West.” Jasmine gives Weston a wicked grin before rolling her bowling ball and earning herself a series of strikes.
She wins the tiebreaker. That means that Weston has to take us out for ice-cream. Weston doesn’t look like he lost to a ten-year-old, though. The way he smiles and looks at my daughter fondly is actually pretty sweet and gives me this warm feeling around my chest.
He and Jasmine seem to have formed a good bond. I watch the two of them eat ice cream with a smile on my face, happy to see my little girl having a blast. Jasmine is choosing all kinds of flavors of ice cream, while Weston is choosing for the both of us. He insists I try the dark chocolate with banana cuts on it.
“Here, try this.” Weston hands me my cone.
I take it and say my thanks to him, then I take a lick of the icy sweet treat. It’s good.
“Well?” He looks at me expectantly.
“It’s good,” I reply to him.
“Try mine!” Jasmine rushes to me and offers her colorful scoops of ice cream. I taste hers as well, and I tell her it’s a nice mix of flavors. She seems really happy.
Weston comes in to join us once more, and the two of them let the other taste their ice cream. I watch them with a thought in mind, hoping that their friendship can last even when this fake engagement was over.
Eleven
Weston
After finishing our ice cream, all three of us decide to walk around a bit. For the first time in a long while, I don’t feel like checking my phone. I realize how much my thoughts are currently preoccupied with LaDasia and her awesome kid. It makes me think if I’m growing fond of the two.
The girls are talking about school and that one boy Jasmine seems to have a crush on. While they are busy themselves with this, I find myself looking at LaDasia more and more. I had to rub my eyes when I feel like things got brighter when I look at her. Weird, I’m not even tired.
When she notices me doing it, she asks what’s wrong. I tell her I got some dust or something. She doesn’t push it, which is good.
They resume their girl talk while we walk together a bit more.
It’s not just that I feel like the brightness goes up when I look her way, but it’s also how I suddenly notice the little things about the single parent who raised such an amazing little girl like Jasmine.
For some odd reason that I cannot explain, I am JUST starting to see LaDasia Andrews in a different light. Suddenly, I see how great her hair actually is. The reddish-black long hair that looks soft to the touch, falling beautifully down her shoulders, all the way to her nicely shaped ass. She has all the right curves in all the right places, and I find myself attracted to how her dark-colored skin looks delectable.
I know for a fact that she has soft skin despite how hardworking she is. The times I can hold her reminds me of her breasts. Why? Well, now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure I accidentally touched her boobs a couple of times. They are nice. That’s all I’m saying.
Damn. The more I think about LaDasia, the more I realize just how fucking hot she is. I know I saw that when she dressed up during the game, I’m not the only one who noticed since there were a couple of guys looking her way during and after the game.
Thinking about it now pisses me off.
“West?” I turn to her voice, feeling enchanted by her as I just stare at her lips. “You okay?”
I blink a couple of times and pulls my wandering thoughts back to my brain and finally respond to her. “Oh, I’m fine. Just thinking.”
“Thinking about how mom is hot?” Jasmine grins at me toothily.
“Haha, you…” I pull her and give her a nice noogie. Why are you such a mind reader, kid?
At least LaDasia doesn’t seem to catch on pretty quick about these things. Good. Because that’s gonna be weird.
I release Jasmine, and she goes to her mother’s side. That adorable little gremlin. We give each other a naughty look, and the only adult present, adult in mind that is, steps in and scolds the two of us.
Ah, shit… even LaDasia’s scolding is sexy now. What the hell is wrong with me? I ask myself why, but I think I know why in the very VERY back of my head. These feelings I have for her, feelings I dare not give a fucking name, is starting to take over.
“So, uh... can I hang out in your place for a bit?” I randomly ask because I’m really not sure where I’m going with this anymore.
“It’s kinda late.” She looks hesitant. I don’t blame her, we’re not really REAL. It’s weird to
let a man inside their place at this time. In this day and age, that’s basically a booty call.
I’m about to say that she can forget what I said and that I’ll just take them home, but then she smiles and sighs at the same time. Her beautiful, hazel colored eyes look to me, and I feel my knees grow weak for a bit.
“Why not?”
“R-Really?”
“Yeah, you can hang out for a bit.
With a smile on all our faces, the three of us start to head back to my car, where I drive us back to their home. The moment we get there, LaDasia tells Jasmine to take a bath, then she asks if I want coffee.
“Yeah, I’ll take that coffee.” I smile at her, leaning a bit as we are both in the kitchen; she’s moving around like I’m not there, and I’m just there, taking in her warm presence.
“Thanks,” she tells me as she hands me a cup of hot brewed coffee.
“For?” I take a sip, waiting for her to continue.
“For all of this.” She says, smiling, and I feel like my heart is about to explode. I’m used to her angry, teasing, but not smiling so often.
I blush. “No problem. It’s all part of the deal, right? It makes it believable.”
OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE! WHY DID YOU SAY IT LIKE THAT!? I scold myself as I try to still keep smiling.
I regret it. Especially when I catch LaDasia looking a little uncomfortable for a second.
Shit.
Jasmine suddenly hugs me goodnight, and LaDasia goes to tuck her into bed. I can feel that she’s glad to escape from me after what I said.
I hear them talking. Their apartment is tiny, and Jasmine’s bedroom is right off of the living room.
Jasmine says that she thinks I’m nice and that she likes me. LaDasia says that she is glad.
“Are we still going to be friends after the engagement play is over?” Jasmine asks.
She replies with, “I hope so. But don’t get your hopes up too much. Weston’s a famous man, and he’s very busy.”
“Do all men get busy and leave their friends and family, like dad?”
LaDasia tells her that many good men in the world stick by their wives and children, “You’ll find a good man, someday, when you are all grown up,”
“What about you?”
“You are all I need, Baby Girl. Now get some sleep.”
I feel like a first-class heel.
Twelve
LaDasia
I busy myself in the kitchen for a bit. That weird moment earlier when I handed his coffee, I still feel a little stupid for that. Of course, this is all just part of the deal, and that he’s sweet is a package deal. I grab a couple of beers and then steel myself to go hang out with my fiancé.
It’s decided, I am going to pretend that it never happened.
“Hey.” I give him his beer and sit on the other side of the sofa.
“Hey…” he responds a little unenthusiastically.
Oh great, I probably made things awkward for him earlier. Think. How can I save this? While I’m thinking about what to say or do, I take a sip of my beer.
“So, why, Deli?”
“Hm?”
“I’m asking you why you thought it’d be great to open a Deli business. I mean, I love it. I just, want to know why it has to be a Deli. Is there a particular reason?”
I look at him for a good few seconds before snickering. He seems to panic at first, but then he joins in with the snickering. The two of us are acting like teenagers right now.
“Well, that broke the tension,” he says before drinking his beer.
“Yeah, it did.” I look at him and think about his question.
I tell him that back then; I had found myself floundering with a newborn, and I honestly didn’t know what direction to go in.
“The owner of the deli wanted to retire. I was able to get a small business loan and buy the deli.” It wasn’t a fond memory, but it was the start of something much more than a pregnant woman whose lover left her after knocking her up.
It was paying the bills and allowing me to save a little extra to pay for Jasmine’s college. “At least until you moved in.”
I see him wince. Good. He needs to know that what he does has a big impact on other people. It feels nice seeing him react, so I let the guilt trip go a little longer.
“Imagine me doing late nights just thinking of ideas on how to avoid bankruptcy, making plans if my business gets shut down because of a certain baller who says I’m just not cut out for business.”
“Alright, alright... I’m an ass.”
I smile at his defeat.
“And, I’m sorry.”
I choke at the beer I’m currently drinking when he suddenly apologizes. Did Weston actually say he is sorry? His large hand rubs my back to help me from my coughing fit.
“Are you really apologizing?”
“Yes! I apologize to people, okay? Don’t act like it’s a big deal.”
I finally recover, and then I sit upright and turn to him. Our eyes locked, but then he suddenly looks away as if he’s suddenly embarrassed about it.
“But why all of a sudden? When I was asking you to apologize back then, all you did is give me a business lecture.”
He doesn’t respond for a while as he just gulps his beer.
“Because I got to know you and Jasmine these past few days.” He shrugs, “And you guys are pretty awesome people. So yeah, I’m really sorry about that.”
I can’t suppress my smile. I listen to Weston apologize. Just hearing him say sorry is enough. But now that I know he means it, it feels good.
“Well, I guess I’ll forgive you.”
“You forgive me? For real???”
“Okay, I take it back then.” I glance away.
“No, don’t take it back!”
He ends up hugging me, and we both fall on the sofa. The two of us just look at each other for a while. Looking up at Weston hovering over me is a sight to behold.
“I won’t,” I end up saying in softer than usual, and I watch him sit back up, helping me to do the same.
It’s awkward again. This time my heart is hammering much louder than it did during the game. I think about what to say since Weston doesn’t seem like he can save this situation anymore.
“Your turn!” I exclaim.
“Oh, uh...sure.” He starts to smile again, that’s good.
“Tell me about yourself.”
He contemplates for a bit as if thinking where he can start with his life story. I jokingly tell him he has a minimum of five sentences, and he looks at me in distraught. We laugh after that, and it seems like we’re back to being comfortable.
“I barely skated by in high school,” he started in a matter-of-fact tone in his endearing voice—focus on the story LaDasia! Focus, girl.
He continues his story, and I listen to him, intently, “I went to college on an athletic scholarship. I got a degree in business and I actually did well academically. Then, I was recruited by the NBA when I graduated, and I have been balling ever since.”
And the rest is history, at least, the rest is probably on the internet, so he doesn’t bother to continue.
“However, I am not completely stupid.” He catches my attention again when his voice shifted into a gentler tone. “The reason why I bought the club is that I knew...that someday...”
It seems he’s having a hard time talking about it.
His beautiful blue eyes look at the half-empty beer in his hand, “I’ll need income. And that I can’t play basketball forever.”
The sadness in his voice when he said the last part almost tore my heart. Jasmine always talks about how Weston loves basketball. And after hearing him just now, I can see that if he can, he’d play forever.
CLINK!
Weston looks up from his bottle to me after I clink mine to his. He looks confused, and so I finally say my piece on the topic.
“That’s pretty cool.”
“What?”
“Now, I understand why you said those
things to me before our fake engagement plan. Back then, I thought you’re just a jerk. But now, I think you were actually being sincere when you explained things to me. Because you’re actually this very sincere guy.”
As we talk, I discover that he isn’t as much of a jerk as I originally believed to be.
Thirteen
Weston
She seems to relax as we get to know each other a little better. I discover that I actually like her and Jasmine a lot. It feels nice just doing things like this. I never thought I’d miss the simpler times when I’m just the normal Weston, drinking beer with someone cool and chill; it seems like a year ago when LaDasia is this ogress that keeps nagging and fighting my club and me.
Never in my life have I thought that she’ll be pretty cool underneath that scary face she has. Hell, I can’t even remember that face at all. Now, all I see is her smile and the subtle way she pouts, or the way those hazel eyes of hers emit this warmth that I still can’t adequately describe.
We talk more about the silliest of stories each of us have. LaDasia tells me about that one time she went to a Halloween party looking like a zombie, but she actually just got back from work and didn’t have time to change. Then I tell her my Halloween experience, only I dressed as myself, but no one got it.
“I’m pretty sure they were just fucking around,” I say while finishing the last drop of my beer.
“Did you make sure you wore that smug face?” she teases me.
“What smug face? Oh...HA HA HA funny,” I reply sarcastically.
We both finish our third bottle of beer, and LaDasia decides to take out something that will make sure I’ll be able to drive home. She tells me if she thinks I can’t drive, I’ll have to call an Uber. I tease her that I’ll just have a sleepover, and then she kicks me.
“Here.” She hands me a glass of the concoction she made in the kitchen just awhile ago. It smells sweet, and it looks like one of those iced coffee drinks.
