“Hey, Cassie,” he said without looking up.
“Who’s this?” She pointed her pen at me. “Study partner? Tutor for Mr. Heading-to-the-NBA?”
“A friend,” I said cheerfully. No need to go and give anything a label.
“More than a friend,” Blane shot back.
She frowned. “Oh, is that why you haven’t been in for weeks?”
“I didn’t know you were keeping track,” he said, still not looking up.
“Does Sonny know? I saw him last week, and all he does is run off at the mouth over you two and your antics.” She flipped her hair to the side, revealing a Hafton H tattoo on her neck.
“Sonny isn’t part of this.” Blane didn’t get a chance to finish because the bells over the door chimed and a loud, “Steele!” echoed through the diner.
“Yo, Mo,” Blane called back, finally lifting his head out of the menu.
“I’ll be back,” Cassie said in defeat, and left. Not without shaking her ass, which Blane didn’t notice because he was too busy staring down Mo, who had said, “Slide over,” to me.
Mo rolled his eyes. “I’m practically hitched, Steele. Cool your dick. Sorry ’bout the language, missy.”
“No problem. I use the word dick frequently,” I said, unruffled. Swearing I could do.
“I love this one. She’s a fucking firecracker.” Mo tossed his arm around me and pulled me close. “You eating?” he asked Blane.
“That’s why we’re here.”
“Good, me too. Saw your truck out front.”
“Y’all always barge in on people’s dates?” Blane eyed Mo, his green eyes narrowed and laser focused on his teammate.
“This ain’t no date. The fuck, the diner?”
“He took me to Geno’s the other night,” I said.
“Did you now?” Mo asked Blane with a raised eyebrow.
“Look, it says right here that this is a date place.” I pointed at the picture of Tiberius.
“Yeah, when you’re Tiberius Jones and you got yourself hooked up with some slice of crazy.” Mo jerked his chin toward the picture. “Nah, just kidding. Tingly’s cool, but she was fucked up six ways to Sunday by her parents.”
“How do you know?” I shifted in my seat so I could focus on Mo.
“My bro was roommates with Ty. Witnessed the whole crazy love affair. Now Trey works for the Nets, and Ty plays for them. Jamel too.”
“Really?” I said. “I’m a Knicks fan.”
“No shit? Your woman’s a ball fan, Steele?”
“She is,” Blane admitted. “Been sneaking in to watch us play.”
“No way,” Mo said. “I’m gonna get you some tickets.”
Cassie and her boobs stopped at our table to interrupt. “You guys decide?”
Mo went first. “Protein breakfast with sausage, eggs over easy, and full stack of hotcakes, no whipped cream. And a large milk.”
“Breakfast for dinner. Sounds good. Give me the same,” Blane said without even glancing at Cassie.
“Um, can I have the pecan roll hotcakes?” I bit my lip, waiting for a reaction. It wasn’t exactly what women ate on dates. At least, I assumed they didn’t.
“Can I get a bite?” Mo asked me, nudging my shoulder with his.
I nodded.
“You want a drink?” Cassie asked, giving me the evil eye.
“Coffee.”
She turned and sashayed desperately as she walked away.
“So, what’s up?” Mo looked at Blane and then me.
“What do you mean?” Blane’s eyes remained evil slits.
“What’s the deal-i-o with you two? On or off?”
“On.” Blane’s face finally relaxed as a smile formed.
I swallowed down my excitement—and regret—and raised my eyebrows.
“Definitely on,” Blane repeated.
It was news to me. Not unwelcome, mind you, but it definitely deepened my regret about my actions over the last few weeks.
I didn’t have long to dwell on it because Mo slapped my shoulder and said, “Well, thank you. He’s been in a better mood. He wasn’t good with all that . . . stuff . . . backed up.”
“Maurice,” Blane growled.
“I’m just kidding, bro. So tell me, darling Catie, why aren’t you on the air anymore?”
“Um, I sort of lost my way and I was pissed at Sonny, but I’m rethinking it.”
He nodded. “Good girl.”
“And how’s your girlfriend?” I asked.
“Angie’s good. She’s starting to show, so I guess I’m having a kid.”
“Ya think?” Blane leaned forward.
“Shit, man, this is not real. Me a dad, but it is.”
“You seem like a good guy,” I told Mo.
“Why, thank you, Catie.”
Our food arriving at the table interrupted our conversation, and the guys dug in. Mo made good on his wanting a bite of pancakes.
When the check came, Mo snatched it.
“Hey, it’s the least I can do after crashing your date and all.” He pushed Blane’s hand away and got up to pay.
Blane stood and helped me put my coat on, and then draped his arm around me.
“I didn’t know we were a thing,” I whispered in his ear.