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Wanda : Also I MAY have installed an auto-scraper that flags negative mentions of your name online Just… ignore that.

Jess : You a real one fam!

Wanda : and never fake

Sky : Soooo basically Wanda is your internet bodyguard and I’m your emotional support gamer with snack privileges

Sky : It’s giving elite squad.

Jess: Elite and UNSTOPPABLE.

Jess : Anime Club Baddies rise

Wanda : Period. Now we have more to celebrate for Jess. Let’s do it for binge night.

Wanda : Jessica gets to pick the anime and NO COMPLAINING, Sky.

Sky : Fine. But only if we eat ramen outta fancy bowls and cosplay as background characters for no reason.

Jess: Say less I’m bringing the mochi and my ugly Totoro slippers.

I swear between the two groups, my thumbs are flying across the phone screen until I get up to my hotel floor and let them know I’m going to call it a night because I swear, fatigue hits me fast and hard.

I’m so tired, I pull off my shoes, trudging up to my door with barely enough energy to slide my key card. I think my eyes are closed even as I walk into the room, but I make damn sure the hotel door clicks shut behind me.

My shoes hit the floor, my bag drops, and I lean against the door, eyes fluttering shut.

Ahhhh silence! Blissful ass, peaceful ass SILENCE!

I did it.

I killed that interview. I flipped the narrative, put my name on the damn map, and hopefully inspired other little Black girls so they can be whatever they want.I’m proud of me…I am… SO proud of me, but fuck… I shake my knee, placing my hands on my head, heart going crazy.

Right now all I want…is him.

I sigh, shaking my head at my ridiculousness. This is so unlike me, I never been so down bad for a dude like this, but Frank… shit, that man just does it for me. I pull out my phone, going straight to his number, wishing I could message him, but I know it’s no point because he already told me he wouldn’t be able to reach me.Fuck!I should be celebrating my amazing day, but here the fuck I am thinking about my nigga.Jessica, you need to get your head in the game!

I groan and stand, feeling even more drained than when I run drills.Now I see why athletes hate the media part.I walk slowly over to where my bed is, ready to take off my shirt, but as soon as I flip on the lights, my mouth fall open when I spot balloons floating across the ceiling in deep reds, blacks, and golds tied with silk ribbons that shimmer like they were spun from silk.

Some spell out my name. Others simply say “Mine.” Most say “Congratulations Little Baby”

What?!My heart thumps as I take in everything, head reeling as my eyes land on the bed that’s buried beneath gifts.

On top, I see a Louis Vuitton duffel, monogrammed with my initials in gold thread. Next to it, a Chanel flap bag in cherry red caviar leather, sitting pretty like it knows it’s the queen of the room. A Dior saddle bag rests beside a Balenciaga Hourglass, both in matte black like they were chosen to match my game-day cleats.

There’s even a Bottega Veneta clutch in knotted white leather with a card that reads:

“To my Pretty Little Baby, the star of the show.”

Wait a damn minute…I try to process everything, but I turn and my mouth drops to the floor.These cleats…

A customized pair of Nikes with my team color on them, just like the shoes created by The Shoe Surgeon for Odell Beckhamin Super Bowl 2022. The Nike swoosh has diamond-encrusted filling, but this looks way more expensive…way wayyyyy more expensive!

I plop down in bed shaken, heart beating wildly.When did he have the time to all of this?A smile lights my face and I squeal and drop back on the bed, but I bump my head on something.

“OUCH!” I rub my head, groaning, but turn to see a long black velvet box on the bed, tied with a blood-red ribbon. My name is written in sharp, elegant gold lettering I’d recognize anywhere. The smell hits me before I even touch it.Frank. My body warms just breathing it in.

I tear the ribbon off slowly and gasp when I see lingerie that looks as if it’s spun from spider webs, but the webs are deep crimson. Barely there. Silk and lace with cutouts in all the places I’m pierced. There’s also a note, written in that slanted, impatient scrawl.