Full Court Press Page 2

  “What? What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” I ask my sister. She laughs in return.

  “You don’t see it, do you?” She tilts her head as she steps closer to me, placing her hands on my shoulders. “You draw attention without even realizing it. You have that sweet, innocent vibe but you also put off that you’re fun to hang out with.” I raise my eyebrows at that admission. “That’s not what I mean.” She laughs and shakes her head, throwing her arm around my shoulders as we follow the other two, who are halfway to the arena entrance. “I’m just saying, you’re the total package and you’re oblivious to it.” She squeezes my shoulder then steps ahead of me.

  I frown, thinking about what she just said.

  I haven’t been with anyone since Kyle. I’ve had no desire to meet men or date. My heart was broken in that relationship and I don’t want Carson to go through heartbreak either. He asks about his dad and I just answer him as truthfully as I possibly can, which usually ends up with me avoiding the topic or changing it all together. It’s hard to find the words to explain to your child that his father never wanted anything to do with him.

  When our tickets are scanned, we take the steps two at a time down to the court floor. Somehow, Jennifer has gotten us floor seats for tonight’s game. Free. Not going to ask how she managed that because I think we all know. Jen enjoys her male company, and loves the friends with benefits roles.

  When we show our ticket stubs to one of the guards by the railing, he steps aside, shoving his arm out in front of us, pointing in the direction of our seats. I’ve never been to a game and sat courtside before; this is all new. I actually haven’t watched a game since I was with Kyle. Carson usually watches games when he’s with my dad, but I try to avoid basketball altogether, yet here I am. At a fucking Hawks game. I lost a bet with Chrissy and this was my pay up. She bet that her class would collect more box tops than mine. And well, I lost. By one freaking box top.

  It’s different down here, only three rows of cushioned, folding chairs with quite a bit of space between us and the actual arena seats. The lights seem brighter and I feel completely out in the open, exposed.

  “These seats are awesome, Jen. How’d you manage to score these?” My sister raises her brows flirtingly at Jennifer, suggesting what we all know. Jennifer is a playgirl. Is that even a thing? If not, I’m making it one because that is the most accurate description I can think of to describe her.

  “Please, he wants a second date so bad, he’d do just about anything.” She leans back against her chair, pretending to be badass. “Besides, we all know I’m not big on the two-date thing. I’m more a ‘hit it and quit it’ type of gal.”

  “You are incorrigible.” I laugh and swat at her arm. Gabby hasn’t really spoken since we got out of the car earlier. She is definitely the quieter one of the bunch.

  “I’m going to run and grab some nachos, y’all want anything?” Gabby stands, sliding past us.

  “I’ll take some nachos and a beer, please,” I reply, handing her some cash.

  “Anyone else?”

  They both reply a beer.

  Tip-off is approaching, and the lights kick off; the arena gets quiet. The spotlight swirling wildly on the court floor causes the fans to scream.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, your Atlanta Hawks!” the announcer rumbles, and the applause is deafening. The floor is shaking from all the stomping.

  The players run from the tunnel. All large and masculine. Jennifer, being the hoe she is, groans beside me. She’s enjoying the view, and I’ll admit the view isn’t that bad. They run around their half of the court before stopping by the home bench. Several players form a path for the starters to run through.

  “Up first, your power forward. Number thirty-seven, Chris Cole!” The announcer screams his name as he bounces up from his seat on the bench. He fist bumps all the players before shaking hands with the referees and the Hawks opponents’ coaching staff. Once he’s finished, he returns to stand at the end of the path of players.

  “Up next, your small forward for the Atlanta Hawks, Mason Nile!” Mason follows suit and goes through the motions the same as Chris Cole.

  Another player is announced when Jennifer nearly comes off her seat with excitement.

  “And now, your two favorite Royals. Number twelve, Cal King!” The crowd erupts, everyone in the arena is standing. Flames shoot up from the top of the goal posts. This player does the same as the past players except he comes to stand in the center of the pathway.

  “Number thirty-four, Landon Prince!” I didn’t think the arena would get any louder, but clearly, I was wrong. I’m unable to even hear Jennifer talk about how sexy the Royals are but I know that’s exactly what is coming out of her mouth right now by the look on her face. I can’t disagree, this man is purely gorgeous. I watch as Landon Prince runs through the path, preparing for a jump before smashing his chest into Cal King. The other players all pat them both on the back as Landon moves to shake hands with the refs and coaching staff. He fist bumps a few players from the opposing team before he moves to find a seat on the bench.

  Gabby comes back, hands full of nachos and beer. I stand to help her when another blast of fireworks erupts, causing both of us to jump, nearly dropping everything.

  The starting five have been announced and now everyone is on the court. Players shuffle their feet against the court, causing traction and that god-awful squeaking sound.

  The ref blows the whistle and we all watch as two players jump to their highest, battling for the ball. The Hawks easily slap the ball out of reach and the game is on.

  Tonight, they’re playing one of their biggest rivals, the New York Knicks.

  Just from the start of the game, you can tell this will be a nasty night. Elbows have been flying since the first quarter. The referees are turning blind eyes tonight, only calling fouls when absolutely necessary.

  The ball is thrown to Cal King. He’s immediately flocked by two players from the opposite team, and he’s struggling finding a shot. He steps to pass to Landon Prince, who materializes out of nowhere, only to have the ball slapped in our direction.

  Prince and a player from the Knicks are scrambling, trying to get to the ball first. Both crash into each other; the Knicks player falls to the ground, but Prince continues to stumble.

  Right toward me.

  Chapter Three

  “Oh shit!” I hear Chrissy shout beside me as she leans away from the giant who is barreling toward me. I must look like a deer in headlights because I’m stunned until the very last second when I attempt to move. Only I’m sent backward, my chair collapsing beneath me, and a very large, very heavy, and very sweaty basketball player is laying on top of me.

  My eyes open and I’m blinded by the lights hanging from the beams. His head moves, blocking the brightness.

  “Shit. I’m sorry. Are you okay?” Prince’s eyes roam my face, worry within them.

  His eyes are a light gray and mesmerizing. Small, sweat beads line his forehead and his hair is slick from playing for the last hour.

  “I’m fine. I just can’t breathe.” I shift beneath him to get up, only to find I can’t move. At all.

  Prince rises to his feet, offering me a hand. His eyes roam down my body and my face flushes at the thought of him blatantly checking me out. His lips curve in a small smirk; it’s attractive.

  “Let me have someone bring you another shirt.” He glances behind him and waves over someone from the opposite side of the court, a woman. She stands, and even from here I can tell she stands at least six feet. “Meet her at the top in front of the concession stand.” I look down at my shirt and realize it’s covered in nacho cheese and beer. I’m not sure how I didn’t even notice during the fall. Oh, wait. I do know, I was covered by a giant. My mind was on other things. Yet, somehow he doesn’t have a bit of nacho cheese on him.

  Suddenly, I’m completely mortified and I can feel my face heat up with embarrassment. I turn from Prince’s attention and trot up the stairs,
not bothering to look behind me. I’m sure everyone is getting quite the laugh on my behalf. Chrissy and Jennifer offered to come with me but I waved them off.

  I step in front of the concession stand and notice the girl immediately. She turns and smiles my way. She has long black hair and bright blue eyes; she’s wearing heels and white denim jeans with a flashy Hawks shirt.

  “Hi, I’m Layla. Landon’s sister,” she says, her voice soft but firm.

  “Kelsi,” I say. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

  “Nonsense, that brother of mine can get carried away playing ball. Follow me and we can go get you cleaned up.” She moves down a hall I hadn’t noticed before, holding a door open for me to enter. When I do, I’m covered in darkness until Layla flips the light switch on.

  “This is the storage room for excess stock that they don’t have room to put on the floor in the shops.” She moves toward a few of the boxes. “What size? Medium?” I nod as she begins digging through boxes and eventually tosses me a shirt. It’s similar to the one I’m currently wearing, except the name Prince is on the back, in capital letters.

  “Go ahead, strip down. Just toss your old shirt in the trash bin. I’ll be waiting outside when you’re done.” The door clicks shut behind her.

  I make quick work of discarding my ruined T-shirt and pulling on the new one. I do as she says and throw my old cheese-stained shirt in the bin by the door. I’m still embarrassed by this entire situation.

  I mumble to myself, “Only dumb shit like this would happen to me.”

  Once I step into the hallway, Layla pushes off from the wall and eyes me up and down, smiling.

  “Is it okay? Anything has to be better than that nacho-smeared, beer-stench shirt.”

  “Oh, honey. I think my brother will approve, all right.” She winks, causing me to glance down. The only thing different about what I’m wearing now is that the shirt is a tighter fit with Prince written on the back. I look back up to Layla; she smiles and starts back down the hall, leaving me to follow.

  We say our goodbyes and I trot back down the steps toward my friends. They all see me approaching and point toward the jumbotron. The screen is doing a replay of the events of our fall. It cuts to a still image of Prince laying on me and his eyes are intense and focused on my mouth.

  “That is fucking hot,” Jennifer says as I slide into the seat beside her.

  “Stop, that was the most embarrassing moment of my life,” I groan and throw my hands over my face.

  “He’s looking at you,” Chrissy whispers against my ear and I jerk my head up. Across the court, sitting on the bench with a towel draped around his neck, is Landon Prince, and his eyes are locked on mine. That smirk appears and I can’t help but feel a little giddy. He winks, then turns his focus back on his teammates on the court.

  “Shut the fuck up, Landon Prince just winked at you.” Jennifer is nearly falling out of her chair beside me, shock written all over her face. “THE Landon Prince. Damn, girl. I told you that you were getting laid tonight.”

  “No one is getting laid tonight, unless it’s you, Jen. And we all know that’s always a possibility.” I wink at her and she throws her head back and laughs.

  “Miss?” We all turn to see a man in a suit squatted next to our chairs.

  “Mr. Prince sent me to invite you all to the after-party at Bar 765 after the game. Here are your passes to get in, compliments of Mr. Prince. He hopes to see you there, an apology for the accident earlier.” He hands us a small envelope and turns to walk back around the court.

  Jennifer grabs the envelope from my hand and thumbs out four after-party tickets.

  I turn my attention back to the court, and my eyes once again land on Landon Prince.

  “Looks like we’re partying tonight, ladies,” I grumble and shake my head. A party with Landon Prince is probably not a good idea.

  Chapter Four

  The Hawks tore apart their opponents by the fourth quarter. Half of each team had fouled out. It was a rough one, but it kept the entire arena on their feet.

  The atmosphere following a win was incredible to witness. Loyal fans were still hollering as everyone filed out of the arena and onto the packed city street. Random strangers were high fiving down the parking lot rows.

  “The bar is this way.” Jennifer turns and we begin to follow. We paid for overnight parking at the arena parking area and our hotel is just a block from the arena. One good thing about the location of the new arena is that it’s within walking distance of the best street in Atlanta. It’s similar to the popular Beale Street in Memphis. Rusk Row has plenty of bars and restaurants lining both sides.

  The streets are full of people walking, talking, some are dancing. There are street artists set up selling the goofy facial drawings, others are selling handmade jewelry. Every couple of bar fronts you’ll see someone set up with a guitar case playing music to make an extra buck. I always drop a few dollars in when I pass them; their passion shouldn’t go unnoticed.

  “Guys, I’m really not sure if this is a good idea,” I mention, hesitant on the events of the night.

  “Oh yes, it is, peanut.” My sister giggles at my childhood nickname while I roll my eyes. “We were invited to an NBA after-party, not many can say that has happened to them before, and besides I’m not one to allow the opportunity to go to waste, so we go,” she states in a matter-of-fact way, implying I don’t have a choice. And usually with her, I don’t, so I just go along with whatever scheme she has come up with and deal with the ramifications later.

  I groan. I’m really unsure about this but she’s right. I never get any time to myself, not because I don’t have sitters available to keep Carson, but I just feel like he needs me 24/7. It’s only ever just been the two of us, so I make sure he has a constant in his life, aside from my parents and sister.

  As we enter the bar, I’m shocked with how clean it actually is. The floors are a black concrete and the walls are composed of exposed brick, giving it an urban feel. Tall metal tables are scattered throughout, and the dance floor is packed. My gaze travels to the left of the room and I notice a staircase with a bouncer positioned at the base.

  “That must be where the team meets,” Gabby says beside me. She’s starting to let loose a little. She’s more than likely plotting her next book idea, by the way she is looking around the room. It usually takes her time to come out of her shell but she normally always gets there.

  “Let’s head to the bar.” Chrissy grabs my arm and tugs, so I grab onto Gabby, who in turn grabs Jennifer. The crowd is thick, and it takes us nearly five minutes to get through everyone to an opening where the bar is. The bar is full so we attempt to all squeeze into one corner to order our drinks.

  The bartender approaches us, the look on his face giving off a vibe that makes me far too uncomfortable. Then again, I haven’t been in a bar in a long time so I could just be overthinking everything.

  “What can I get you, baby?” he asks Chrissy, before allowing his gaze to travel to each of us, lingering on me a second too long, causing me to feel even more uncomfortable.

  “Beer for me!” Chrissy shouts over the music.

  “Make that two,” Jennifer adds.

  “And for you?” He turns his attention on Gabby.

  “Just a beer is fine,” she says quietly.

  His eyes meet mine. “Actually, give us four shots. Your best stuff.” I’m determined to have a fun weekend. I have been away from Carson for two days his entire life, but I know he’s having a blast with my parents and I want to enjoy myself for once.

  “Whoa. Okay, sis!” Chrissy’s eyes go wide before she tosses her head back and laughs while Jen stands beside her, eyes wide and mouth hanging wide open.

  The bartender slides back down our way, sitting four shots of brown liquid in front of each of us.

  “To us, ladies,” Jennifer toasts before clinking her glass with the rest of ours.

  “To us,” we each reply. The liquid touches my lips and I immed
iately know it’s going to burn like hell going down, but I squeeze my eyes shut and swallow the entire glass.

  I slam my glass upside down on the counter as I squeeze my eyes shut tight again and wave to the bartender. “Another.”

  He makes quick work pouring us four more shots. “To Kelsi getting laid tonight.” I roll my eyes at my sister but clink their glasses anyways as my friends all shout, “To Kels!”

  “Let’s dance, bitches.” Jennifer snakes her arm through mine and Gabby’s and we head to the dance floor.

  After five songs, the alcohol has set in and I’m feeling the music now. I haven’t danced in a long, long time.

  My hands move above my head as my hips move back and forth. Chrissy is in front of me doing a similar dance, I glance to Gabby, who is simply swaying back and forth, staring at people around us. She isn’t one to do big crowds, something about an incident from her past but she has never opened up to any of us about it and we don’t pry, it’s her business and she will tell us when she’s ready. But she wanted to come this weekend since we all rarely get trips like these anymore.

  Jennifer has made herself a friend, not that I doubted she would. This is Jen, after all. He’s tall, has blonde hair that’s spiked in the front. His face is buried in her neck, so I don’t get a good look at his features, but they are moving to the music like everyone around them. His hands have hooked around her back and they move down lower, that’s when I turn my attention to the others on the dance floor around me.

  I glance up, remembering why we came to this party in the first place, only to be caught by Landon Prince leaning against the railing in the VIP section, staring at me. He’s dressed to impress in a black button-down shirt with the top three buttons left undone. He winks and then pushes back from the railing, tipping his beer bottle as he does. His eyes never leave mine until he’s out of view.

  I turn my attention back to my friends. Chrissy is smirking at me, making sure I know she just saw the little exchange.