Having a social life isn’t worth the headache that comes with it. So, while yes, my apartment can feel like a personal prison at times, it keeps me and my reputation safe.
“Shay!” Dom bursts as soon as I remove my hood. “Hell yeah, man. Get over here.”
He pushes a rookie out of the barstool next to him and pats it a couple times as if it’s been open all night and waiting for me.
Dom is a party boy. There hasn't been a team gathering where he’s not the center of attention, but he’s also a good guy who loves his mama. He was in the draft class ahead of me, but we spent three years together in college playing for UNC. He went in the second round to a team in Los Angeles, but a year into his contract, his mom had to battle cancer and he requested a trade to his hometown of Chicago, taking a pay cut, simply to be close to her. She’s doing well, but ever since, he hasn’t wanted to leave the city he grew up in. He’s talented. Could go play for any of the championship contenders, the same way I could, but he stays for his family.
For some reason I forgot this about him. Probably because I’ve been selfish as fuck and haven’t thought about any of these guys outside of basketball for far too long. The thirteen guys around me all have their own stories, but I’ve been too worried about my own to care.
Dom holds his beer out to cheers me as we sit at the bar, leaning forward on our forearms.
“How’s your mom?”
Dom’s head jerks back and an instant pang of guilt rams into my chest. I can’t even ask the simplest of questions without causing suspicion.
“She’s good. She had her bi-yearly scans two weeks ago and she’s still in remission.” He nods as if trying to remind himself of the good news. Then he pauses, his brows furrowing in confusion. “Thanks for asking, man.”
“I’ve got to admit, I feel like an ass for not checking in for so long.”
“You’re a big shot now. You’ve got more important things on your plate than my mom’s health.”
He’s not wrong. Well, he’s not wrong in that I’ve acted that way, but the excuse is bullshit. Back in college, I knew every one of my teammates’ parents by their first name even though I always called them by their last. I knew their siblings. I checked in on their grades to see if they needed help maintaining our team required grade point average.
I knew how to care about other people, how to think about other people. How to trust other people because I made sure they could trust me. Allowing Indy into my world has made me painfully aware of the selfish bubble I’ve been living in.
I’ve been wearing blinders for the past four years since everything happened, and I haven’t looked up once. I haven’t seen that my teammates are just like me—normal guys playing the game they love, while living in the spotlight. Sure, it might not be as bright as mine, but it doesn’t mean the pressure feels different.
“That’s bullshit,” I admit. “I mean, you’re completely right that I’ve treated everyone that way, but it’s not okay. I should’ve checked in. I’ve been an ass since I joined the league.”
Dom chuckles. “Okay, softie Shay. We’re cool. You’re still my guy.” He cheers his glass with mine once again. “That Disney princess you’ve got at home is getting you all emotional.”
I laugh. “Her name is Indy, you dick.”
“Oh trust me. I haven’t forgotten your girl’s name. Pretty sure I moan it in my dreams sometimes.”
I shake my head, but an amused smile lifts on my lips. Even though Dom pulls more than any other guy on my team, something about the night Indy went on a date shifted our dynamic. With every fiber of my being, I know she’s not stepping out on this fake relationship.
“Not a chance in hell, Dom. She’s not going anywhere near you or your overused dick.”
His laugh is deep and full. “Fuck, I missed you, Shay.”
I’ve nursed the hell out of my single beer, but two hours into hanging with the guys, and I’ve genuinely had a good time. Ethan headed out an hour ago, but not before giving me the proud dad eyes from across the room. As if I hit my first home run in t-ball instead of simply drinking beers with my teammates in a hotel bar.
My phone buzzes in my pocket with a picture from Stevie of Zanders and their dog Rosie passed out, cuddling on their couch.
Stevie
Look at my cute little family. Also, I miss you.
That family is going to be official real soon, and she has no idea. I’ve been a bit distant since having this secret on my shoulders, simply because I don’t want to ruin the surprise. But my sister and I can’t go a day without talking, so I remind her via text how much I miss her too.
Then I find a text from Indy in my messages. She sent it well over an hour ago, but I had been too distracted hanging with my teammates to check my phone. Even though my knee jerk reaction is to apologize for missing the picture she sent me of the Chinese takeout sitting in front of all her groceries on our kitchen island, most of me thinks she might be proud of me for having such a good time that I forgot to check my phone.
Ryan
Would you hate me if I told you I completely forgot to send you a picture of me at the bar with my team?
Blue
Sorry, who is this?
Cute.
My ego, Ryan. We only have so much space in the apartment.
I send her a picture of my empty beer glass with my teammates blurred in the background.
Who is that tall one? Is he single?
They’re all tall.
Perfect, any will do then.
Are you trying to make me jealous?
Is it working?
I know flirting with my sister’s best friend is very much blurring the lines of my fake relationship, but I can’t exactly help it with Ind.
I’m trying to get along with my teammates, and now I’m fighting the urge to get them all traded just from imagining you giving any of them the time of day. Jealous enough for you, Blue?
Three gray dots dance along my screen then disappear. Reappear. Disappear.
For someone who always has something to say, I like making you speechless.
Her response is almost instantaneous.
I can think of another way you can make me speechless.
Oh, fuck me.
Well, now I’m the one without words. In true Indy fashion, she says whatever the hell is on her mind, and I can barely catch up let alone catch my breath.
I hope you and your right hand enjoy the rest of your night. See you at home, Roomie.