On The Rebound Read online

  The more he stroked, the more I regretted not fuckin’ him sooner, tears coming to my eyes as I held onto his neck for dear life while he grunted in my ear about my pussy being the best he’s ever had. And regardless of if that was true or not, his dick was definitely proving to be top two and not two, this single position getting the both of us off in what seemed like no time at all - in a good way.

  Once again, Kage’s strokes were slow as he enjoyed the aftershocks of being inside of me, the fullness of his dick keeping me stretched until he pulled out and asked, “Can I use your bathroom?”

  “Of course,” I chuckled, trying not to be awkward as I remained on the table while he went to clean himself up. But the longer he took, the more I wondered if he was in there overthinking what had just happened, the sound of the bathroom door being opened prompting me to hop down from where I was sitting in hopes of providing some clarity when I blurted, “I hope this doesn’t make things weird between us.”

  “What? You think I can’t have a little birthday sex with the finest woman on the planet without catching feelings?” he asked amusedly, making me smirk as I reminded him, “Just earlier I was Felicia. Now I’m the finest woman on the planet?”

  With a playful frown, he answered, “You know what it is, Bleu.”

  “Which won’t become a problem, right?”

  “Nah, we’re gucci,” he insisted with a shrug as he made his way to the kitchen and went straight into my fridge to grab another bottle of water; the act reminding me of something my friends would do which made it seem more realistic when I repeated, “We’re gucci?”

  “Yeah, we’re good,” he nodded. “I mean, shit. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome?” I half-asked, half-answered, laughing to myself about it as I walked him to the door and groaned, “Anyway. Have a good time tonight. And I guess I’ll umm… talk to you later?”

  “As long as you ain’t weird about it like you’re actin’ now.”

  “Am I acting weird?” I questioned with another chuckle, trying to make that fact less true as I casually concluded, “It’s probably cause I don’t have my panties back on yet.”

  That made Kage bite his lip, glancing down at my legs before finding my eyes to threaten, “Don’t remind me, or I may never leave.”

  “Here. Take your shit and go then,” I told him teasingly as I grabbed his bag and remaining condoms and stuffed them in his hands. Then I opened the front door so that he could step out, waiting until he turned back my way to tell him again, “Happy Birthday, Kage.”

  “Appreciate it, baby… Bleu… big homie.”

  After what had just happened, that last one made me cringe as I insisted, “Bleu is just fine.”

  “Shit, I’m already knowin’,” Kage groaned with another bite of his lip that made me giggle as I told him, “Bye, dude.”

  Laughing himself, he finally headed out while I shut and locked the door behind him, standing there for a moment as I tried to process everything that had just happened. And even though it was my natural instinct to want to freak out, call my friends, and let them talk me down, I was much more content with the idea of just letting tonight be what it was and taking my ass to bed.

  The high of the weekend was blown the second I stepped into the Bristol offices.

  I didn’t spend a lot of time here since my work was either on the go or out of the New York studios. But now that the network was finally ready to transition me back into the broadcast schedule, they wanted me to meet with the team located at the main campus which, of course, meant running into Todd for the first time since the accident.

  His flowers had immediately gone in the trash, along with every single one of his belongings that had gotten left at my house during the course of our relationship. And his number had long been blocked, as well as each of his social media accounts since I didn’t want him to be able to contact me there either. But leave it to him to not get a fuckin’ clue, smiling when he approached me with his arms extended for a hug as he crooned, “There’s my Bleu-Boo.”

  Trying not to make a scene, I stopped his hug with a stiff arm to his chest as I whispered, “Are you outta your damn mind?”

  “Don’t be like that,” he insisted with a grin, his casual energy making me huff a laugh of disbelief as I repeated more to myself than him, “Don’t be like that.”

  Saying the words out loud only made me grow more irritated by the time I told him, “The one thing you never fail to have is the fuckin’ audacity.”

  With that, I started to walk past him towards the elevators. But of course, he followed me every step of the way as he pleaded, “Bleu, just talk to me. I can explain everything.”

  “There is nothing to talk about, Todd. We’re done. Through. Over. Finito.”

  The moment had me wishing I would’ve finished my Duolingo exercises so I could give it to him in French too, a frown on my face as I waited for the current occupants to exit the elevator so that I could get on. But when Todd followed in behind me - and was the only one to follow in behind me - I immediately regretted not taking the stairs, completely avoiding his eyes even as he got in my face to defend, “Bleu, I said I was sorry.”

  “You know what? You’re right. You are sorry, Todd,” I told him, repeatedly stabbing his chest with my finger to emphasize, “A sorry ass piece of shit who I should’ve never let get even a second of my time.”

  Because of his size, my finger hadn’t made him budge an inch. But he did at least look a little hurt feelings-wise when he asked, “So it’s like that? You’re not even gonna give us a chance?”

  His question only made my scowl intensify as I posed an important one of my own. “Is your hair glued on too tight? What are you not understanding?”

  For whatever reason, that made him chuckle. But I realized it was less about humor and more about intimidation as he stepped close enough to back me against the elevator wall, his voice dropping an octave when he asked, “Yo, who are you talkin’ to?”

  “I’m talking to you,” I answered, refusing to back down as I rattled, “Championship-winning, football-analyzing, stupid ass mothafuckin’…”

  Grabbing me by the arm, he growled, “Watch your fuckin’ mouth.”

  “Get your damn hands off of me,” I snapped, snatching my arm away just as the elevator dinged with my floor. And thankfully so since I wasn’t sure how far things would’ve gone otherwise, my heart still racing about it as I finally got off.

  With nowhere near me to be, Todd stayed back. But I didn’t get far enough to miss him suggesting, “This ain’t over, Bleu.”

  “It very much is, Todd,” I responded loud enough for him to hear without turning around, the sound of the elevator closing making me release a heavy sigh as I approached the adorable administrative assistant who popped up from her seat to greet me.

  “Bleu, hey. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I assured her, giving a nod towards the conference room to ask, “Are they ready for me in there?”

  “Yeah, you can go in,” she answered, letting me take a step before she stopped me with a gentle hand against my arm. “But um, are you sure you’re okay?”

  Catching her drift, I gave a bit of a smile when I asked, “Is this your way of telling me I should go get myself together right quick before I go into this meeting?”

  The exaggerated grin and nod she responded with told me everything I needed to know, my polite smile remaining as I took her advice and told her I’d be right back. And once I got to the bathroom, it was clear why she’d been so insistent, the smile on my face doing nothing to hide my overall flustered demeanor.

  Honestly, I wasn’t sure I’d be over that interaction with Todd in the elevator any time soon. But for now, it was going to have to go to the back of my mind so that I could focus on whatever the network was getting ready to throw my way, a few deep breaths, some cold water to my wrist, and a refresh of my lipstick doing wonders for my attitude as I approached the assistant with a more believable smi
le before finally making my way into the conference room.

  “Gentlemen,” I greeted as an overall hello to everyone, the three men in the room returning pleasantries in different ways before their spokesman cut right to the chase the second I sat down.

  “So... we have some good news and some bad news, Bleu. The good news is we have you back on schedule for two games this week, along with the filming of another one of your Sunday segments. The bad news is, we’ll be postponing the production of B.T.B with Bleu for another… four months or so.”

  Frowning, I repeated, “Four months or so? As in, my show won’t be coming out until next year now?”

  Another one of the guys answered, “We really wanted to squeeze you into this year’s production schedule. But with the recent budget cuts and layoffs, it was virtually impossible to do so.”

  Budget cuts and layoffs had been rough. But calling them “recent” was a bit of a stretch, the whole thing making me feel skeptical when I started to ask, “This doesn’t have anything to do with… nevermind.”

  The last thing I wanted to do was give thoughts of Todd any additional energy. And I was glad the room ignored that in favor of the third guy mentioning, “On the bright side, the network didn’t shelve you completely. And maybe if you keep shining in those Sunday segments, they’ll be encouraged to move the timeline up.”

  “We can only hope,” I responded with a strained smile as they started going into the logistics of which games I’d be working over the next few weeks, the travel plans for my segment, and a bunch of other administrative things that I was glad was on paper or in my email since I wasn’t going to remember it all. And by the time I made it back to my apartment building in the city later that night, I was completely exhausted, that tiredness turning to rage when I saw a package sitting outside of my door.

  “This mothafucka has a lot of nerve,” I thought as I kicked the package inside instead of picking it up to carry it in. But curiosity wouldn’t let it go unopened, my scissors being used extra aggressively as I cut through the line of tape on the cardboard so that I could pull out… a Gucci gift box?

  Admittedly, I was a little more intrigued to see what it was now that I had the clue of it being designer; though I was still annoyed as I pulled the card and read, “Just a little proof that we’re Gucci ;) - K. Steele.”

  Wait.

  This is from Kage?

  Now I was really anxious to see what was inside, completely surprised as I pulled out a crossbody shoulder bag that was the same style as the one I was carrying the night of his game. But instead of the black that I already owned, this one was red, the fact that he’d even paid that close of attention making the gesture that much sweeter as I tried to remind myself what the gift was supposed to be representing.

  Yes, we’d had sex. And yes, we were still attracted to each other after the fact. But we were also keeping it casual, exploring our friendship, being “gucci”.

  No matter how much I tried to simplify it in my head, I had a feeling things would still end up being complicated. But after the bullshit with Todd earlier, I also knew not jumping into anything serious with anyone - especially an athlete - any time soon was for the best.

  Eight

  Sunday home games were my favorite.

  We didn’t have a lot of them on the schedule. But for the ones we did have, Ms. Jeanine made it clear early on during my rookie season that I’d better be at her kitchen table for the full breakfast spread she’d be making, a meal I wouldn’t miss for the world even if it did require me to take a little nap whenever I got to the arena.

  Today was no different, my stomach already full as hell when Ms. J asked, “You get enough to eat, Kage?”

  Nodding, I stretched my midsection like that would help the digestion process move quicker as I answered, “Yes ma’am. Thank you.”

  For whatever reason, my response made her smirk. “Look at you being all polite,” she acknowledged, swinging her dishtowel at me when she asked, “Who are you and what have you done with my bad boy, big ballin’, All-Star-to-be?”

  Laughing, I told her, “I’m just super appreciative for the meal is all.”

  And that was a fact.

  I mean, don’t get me wrong. There was a lot of good food down here in Nashville. But there was still nothing like a home-cooked meal made with love, even if it was served with a side of shade in the form of Ms. Jeanine responding, “Yeah, I bet you are since you ain’t got anyone else to cook for you.”

  Once again, I chuckled, pretending to be offended when I asked, “Wow, Ms. J. It’s like that?”

  “I’m just sayin’, Kage,” she replied with a shrug, joining me at the table with a fresh cup of coffee in her hand. “We need to find you a little girlfriend.”

  Brushing her off, I insisted, “These girls out here ain’t nothin’ but trouble. You know that.”

  “True,” she nodded with a sip from her mug. “But I ain’t gonna be around to cook for you forever, so…”

  “Come on now, Ms. J. Don’t talk like that,” I groaned, hating when she got all dark for no reason since the last thing I wanted to think about was her going to the upper room.

  She was something like family to me down here in Nashville. The one who’d opened her home and her kitchen to me on day one when I’d met her at the arena after one of her practices as captain of the old head, franchise-affiliated dance team, The Golden Geras.

  Yeah, Ms. Jeanine had moves for days. And she was the best player on our Silver Spartans basketball team too, her commitment to staying active forever inspiring me to go hard so that I could get around just as good as she did when I got to her age in thirty, forty…

  “Wait, how old is Ms. Jeanine for real?” I thought, knowing better than to ask her that question as she threw her morbid commentary back at me when she suggested, “Okay, how about you might not be around for me to cook for you then?”

  “Well damn,” I sighed, Ms. Jeanine immediately responding with a laugh as she explained, “I meant, if you were to get traded, or test the free agency waters when your contract is up, or you know, somethin’ like that.”

  “Yeah, somethin’ like death,” I filled in for her, only making her laugh even harder when she defended, “You’s the one who said it now, not me!”

  Her laugh was infectious enough to have me laughing too until she said, “But back to the subject of your love life. You tellin’ me there’s nothin’ going on there? Like, nothin’ at all?”

  “Aight, so maybe there’s a little somethin’,” I admitted, thinking back to the night of my birthday when I’d stop by Bleu’s apartment.

  It wasn’t the last time I’d talked to her, but it was the last time I’d seen her in person. An unforgettable experience that had me sitting at the kitchen table daydreaming about her pussy when Ms. Jeanine interrupted my thoughts to ask, “Well what’s her name?”

  Out of respect for Bleu’s privacy - and cause I knew she’d probably never talk to me again if she knew I was speaking on our situation like this -, I answered, “I can’t tell you all that. But what I can tell you is that she’s a very, very attractive young woman who I’ve grown to be close friends with.”

  Of course, that little bit of information only made Ms. Jeanine more curious, her eyebrow raised as she repeated, “Young woman? How young are we talkin’?”

  “Well, she’s actually a little older than me, but…”

  Before I could finish, Ms. Jeanine interrupted, “Oh, so you like the old broads, huh? If I’da known that, I would’ve thrown it at you a long time ago.”

  With that, she left off another one of her infectious laughs that had me doing the same when I told her, “Ms. J, you wildin’.”

  “I’m just sayin’. Didn’t know I was your type.”

  “A pretty baller like you who can dance and cook her ass off? How could you not be my type, woman?” I asked, serving her my most charming grin as she responded with a groan.

  “Mmhmm. Save the flattery for your other o
ld broad,” she teased over the rim of her coffee cup before asking, “What’d you say her name was again?”

  Smirking, I answered, “I didn’t. Nice try, though.”

  That only made her nose wrinkle as she set her cup down to inquire, “Why is it such a secret? Would I even know who she was if you said her name?”

  “Yeah, actually you would,” I told her, realizing that was a clue in itself as Ms. Jeanine continued to press me for details.

  “Well if you can’t tell me her name, can you at least tell me a little more about the girl? How did you two meet?”

  “We first met back at WNBA All-Star Weekend this past summer. But we just recently became more… acquainted.”

  I suppose it was the way I’d said it that made it easy for Ms. Jeanine to grin and conclude, “Ohhhh, so you two got busyyyy,” even though that wasn’t exactly how I’d meant it. But before I could even try to explain myself, she gave a wave of her hand and suggested, “No need to save face, Kage. I wasn’t born yesterday. And even though I don’t have any children of my own, I still know how to do the making.”

  “Way more than I needed to know on a Sunday morning,” I thought as I groaned, “Anyway. She just got outta somethin’ serious pretty recently, so we’re just keepin’ it casual for right now.”

  “Oh, so you’re the rebound guy?” Ms. Jeanine asked amusedly, taking another sip of her coffee as I shook my head and answered, “Nah, not exactly.”

  “Got out of a relationship, then had relations with you. Sounds like a rebound to me, Kage,” she responded, her insistence making me give the circumstances a little more thought. And even though I didn’t like how it sounded since I knew there was a lot more to the situation than what I’d shared with Ms. Jeanine, at a basic level, she wasn’t totally wrong.

  “Aight, so maybe there’s a little truth to that. But we’re really just friends.”

  “I bet she has a lot of those right about now,” was the comment Ms. Jeanine left the kitchen table with, forcing me to follow her to the living room so that I could ask, “What’s that supposed to mean?”