Page 20 of Half-Court Heat (Hoops & Heartstrings #2)

“Sure,” I said before I could overthink it.

We leaned in, her shoulder pressed to mine, the faint scent of her perfume cutting through the noise. And just like that, the moment belonged to someone else.

“Thanks! You guys are awesome,” he said, darting away into the crowd.

I caught Eva’s smirk out of the corner of my eye. “Told you it’d be fine,” she murmured, low enough for only me to hear.

I smiled back, but the truth was, fine was a moving target—and I wasn’t sure how long I could keep hitting it.

The bathroom mirror wasn’t flattering under the harsh overhead lights. My reflection stared back at me, sharp lines and contours, every imperfection emphasized by layers of foundation and bronzer. I scrubbed at my face with one of the fancy cleansing oils Eva swore by.

Nothing.

I leaned over the sink, gripping its edges. I’m going to be stuck like this.

Parents always warned their kids not to make funny faces unless they wanted their faces stuck like that. Maybe this makeup should have come with a similar warning.

“Babe?” I called out, eyes still locked on my reflection.

Eva’s disembodied voice floated in from the living room. “Yes?”

“Is there some trick to this makeup?” I tried to sound normal, but a definite hint of panic had started to creep in.

Her shadow filled the bathroom doorway before she stepped inside. “Trick?” She tilted her head, her eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

“It won’t come off.”

Her mouth twitched like she was fighting a laugh, but concern eventually won out. She crossed the room in one long stride and reached for my chin. “Let me see.”

Her frown deepened as she examined my face. “Oh no. They must have used the permanent stuff on you.”

“Permanent?” I squeaked.

Eva couldn’t hold back the teasing smile for long. “It’s just stubborn, that’s all.” She opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed a pack of astringent wipes. “Sit.”

I dropped onto the closed toilet lid while she knelt in front of me. Her fingers worked gently as she swiped at my cheeks with the cool, damp cloth.

“Nearly as stubborn as the woman herself,” she murmured, leaning closer. “But we’re getting there.”

I focused on the steadiness of her touch and the light scent of lavender from the wipes. Bit by bit, the layers of paint disappeared to reveal my usual pale complexion.

“There’s my girl,” Eva said softly. She tossed the final wipe into the trash.

My stomach flip-flopped hearing the possessive pronoun.

Eva smiled and stood, offering me her hand. “Next time, we’ll tell them no to the heavy stuff.”

I took her hand and let her pull me to my feet. “ Next time , they can use one of those generic avatars for me.”

Eva chuckled, threading her fingers through mine as we left the bathroom. “Not a chance. You’re too pretty to hide.”

I groaned but my cheeks warmed. For the first time since the photoshoot, I felt like myself again.

Eva tugged me in the direction of our shared bedroom.

“You were good with those kids today,” she observed.

I followed her onto the mattress, the exhaustion of the long day finally catching up with me. We reclined on the bed, above the covers and facing each other. “Does that surprise you?”

“I guess not,” she decided. She tucked her hands under her head like a pillow. “But not everyone is. They freeze up or don’t know what to say around them.” She smirked. “Like Dez.”

I laughed. “Oh my God, Dez was so awkward. Did you hear when she asked that little girl if she ‘also enjoyed dribbling’?”

Eva grinned at the memory. “And then she tried to give a kid her used water bottle like it was a collector’s item.”

“Do you want kids someday?” she asked.

“Your mom actually asked me about that.”

Eva made a noise. “She did not.”

“She did!” I insisted. “When she came to Connecticut during the playoffs. She asked, or rather insinuated, that I should want kids.”

Eva was quiet with the information. Her parents had yet to come see her play as a professional athlete. We hadn’t spoken about it, but I wondered if she’d spoken to them about coming to see us play in Miami. My own family had plans to come down during Paige’s spring break.

“So do you? Want kids?” she finally asked.

“They’re not on my radar at the moment,” I deflected. “I’ve got a lot of living to do before I consider that.”

“I want kids.”

I quirked an eyebrow, surprised by her candor and the immediacy of her response. “That easy, eh?”

“I don’t have their names picked out or anything,” she shrugged.

“Would you … want to be pregnant?” It was the next logical question, but my stomach felt funny for asking.

She reached across the distance that separated us and stroked idle fingers down the length of my arm. “I guess it all depends on who my partner is when I’m done playing,” she said noncommittally.

Okay. Ouch.

My instinct was to pull away and guard myself, but her fingers had gently curled around my wrist.

“I’m really not thinking about all of this either,” she told me.

“Normally, I’m a day-by-day girl. I have long-term goals, but a partner has never figured into those.

I want to win my first championship by twenty-five, but I don’t have an age that I want to be married by or when I have my first kid. ”

“But you do want to get married?” I anticipated. “You’re not, like—I don’t know—anti-institutions or something?”

“I may be queer, but I’m probably a little traditional when it comes to all of that,” she admitted. “I want to get married. I want a big ceremony where I’m the center of attention,” she revealed. “I want kids, although I don’t know how many. And I want to raise them in a home that I own.”

I let her admission sit with me for a moment. I’d played with Legos, not dolls, as a child. I hadn’t played house or thought about a wedding growing up.

“I think … I think all of that sounds really nice,” I eventually said. “I hate being the center of attention though, so I’d let my wife have the spotlight on our wedding day.”

Eva chewed on her lower lip, looking pensive. “It’s fast though, right? Normal twenty-two year olds aren’t thinking about all of this stuff.”

“I don’t think we’re normal twenty-somethings, though,” I countered.

“We had to grow up fast. You’re a multimillion-dollar empire, not some kid fresh out of college.

And before that, we were the face of multimillion-dollar—maybe even billion -dollar—college sports programs. We weren’t allowed to be reckless and dumb. ”

Her eyes softened. “I guess we still aren’t, huh?”

Eva studied me for a moment, her expression unreadable. She leaned forward until our foreheads touched. “I don’t mind skipping the dumb parts,” she murmured. “As long as I don’t have to skip this.”

Her thumb brushed my jaw again, a mirror of the way she’d touched me in the bathroom earlier. I let my eyes fall shut, letting the smell of lavender and the quiet weight of her presence settle me.

For the first time all day, the noise in my head went still.