Page 39 of Half-Court Heat (Hoops & Heartstrings #2)

Chapter

Twenty-Six

A sharp knock on my apartment door had me putting down my gaming console and heaving my body off the couch. I expected to find another league player on the other side of the door—Dez, Mya, or Jazz, maybe, although they’d probably text first before coming over unannounced.

I opened the door to find one of my teammates, just not any of the ones I expected.

Rayah stood in the hallway. That itself was unremarkable if not for how she was dressed.

She’d rolled her practice shorts at the waistband until they better resembled underwear.

Her thin T-shirt similarly left little to the imagination.

She’d turned the practice shirt into a crop top, which put her tight abdomen on full display.

She also wasn’t wearing a bra, and I could confirm for certain that both of her nipples were pierced.

I swallowed once and then cleared my throat, realizing I’d been silently gawking in the doorway.

“Oh. Hi.”

Rayah flashed a megawatt smile that highlighted her deep dimples. “Want to watch some game tape?” She held up a sealed bag of unpopped microwave popcorn. “I brought snacks.”

I had no reason to turn her away. There were always zombies to kill, and I’d been negligent about film review lately.

This was a different kind of league; the same gameplay strategies that worked in 5-on-5 didn’t necessarily translate to the 3-on-3 format.

The stakes were admittedly lower in the Miami league than in the pros, but I was still competitive as hell and wanted to win the whole damn thing.

I stepped to the side and let Rayah inside.

I caught myself breathing her in as she walked by. “Is that Fenty?” I asked without thinking.

“Butta Drop,” she confirmed. Her head cocked as though seeing me with new eyes.

“Eva uses it,” I explained. I felt the heat rush to my cheeks.

“How is Eva?” Rayah asked. She touched her fingertips to my arm. “Missing you, I bet.”

My mouth did strange, involuntary things. “That makes two of us.”

Rayah nodded, looking thoughtful. “I watch film whenever I’m missing Tash,” she named her own partner.

The two had been a couple since their college days.

Both had been drafted, but to different professional teams. It was no secret, however, that they’d left the American league in favor of playing abroad for more money.

Tash hadn’t been invited to play in the Miami league, and had stayed abroad to play in China.

I wondered what Rayah thought about that—if she harbored any resentment that Briana hadn’t invited her girlfriend and, as a consequence, was half a world away.

Rayah made herself comfortable on the couch in the living room, tucking one leg beneath her. She tore open the plastic on the popcorn bag with her teeth and gave me a sideways grin.

“You got a microwave in this place?” she asked.

I imagined we had the same apartment furnishings. “Yeah, in the kitchen.”

I held up my hands, expecting her to toss me the bag. But instead of letting me make the popcorn, she stood, sauntered past me, and popped the bag into the microwave.

When she turned around, she leaned against the counter. Her arms were folded across her chest, her hazel eyes gleaming. “You know, the trick isn’t just popping it. It’s making sure it doesn’t burn.” Her grin widened, and her dimples deepened. “Timing is everything.”

She stopped the microwave before it could beep and pulled out the bag. The scent filled the room, warm and buttery.

She gave the bag a little shake, which only proceeded to make her shake as well. Beneath her crop top.

If she noticed my stare, she didn’t speak on it.

“Bowl?”

After I successfully transferred the popcorn from its bag to an oversized bowl, Rayah patted the couch cushion beside her. “Come on. Film time,” she urged. “I promise I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

I barked out a nervous laugh before I could stop myself. Rayah had a way of making jokes that landed just south of appropriate, but somehow it came out charming instead of crass.

I sat down, my gaming controller abandoned on the coffee table.

Rayah queued up highlights from our last game and began breaking down spacing and defensive reads like she was born to coach.

It was … normal. Useful . I relaxed into the couch, crunching on popcorn between comments about switching versus trapping.

Mid-review, her buttery fingers brushed mine as we both reached for the bowl. It was nothing. Except it wasn’t. My stomach did a stupid flip, and the couch suddenly felt smaller, the glow of the TV more intimate, like we were teenagers on a movie date.

Rayah noticed the change. She tilted her head, dimples appearing again. “See? Just like I said. Timing.” She wet her lips. “I don’t know what it is …” she trailed off. “But there’s something about you, Bennet. You’ve got that rizz.”

Rayah Thompson was gorgeous. Everyone knew it. She was the kind of woman that made you do a double-take, the kind who made highlight reels and magazine covers. And she was sitting next to me, inches away, smelling like cocoa butter and salt, and looking at me like she’d already made up her mind.

“I’m not … I mean—Eva.” My words came out rough and uneven.

Rayah leaned back, giving me space, but her smile didn’t falter. “Relax, Lex. I’m not trying to steal you. I just thought that maybe with her gone, with Tash gone—we could keep each other company. No drama, no strings. Just popcorn and …” she wiggled her buttery fingers, “…whatever.”

For a heartbeat, I didn’t breathe.

I could feel the weight of the moment—the soft trap of temptation, the almost-too-easy out if I wanted it. But Eva’s face was the one that lit up my phone. Eva’s voice was the one that steadied me when everything else felt off.

My hand twitched against the couch cushion, wanting to retreat but afraid to make it more awkward. I was too stunned to come up with a response. My throat worked, but nothing came out.

Rayah didn’t need words. She licked the salt from her fingers, grinning at my silence like it was the confirmation she wanted.

“Think on it. Talk to Eva. Or not,” she said, standing up. “We’re going to be down here for a while.”

She left me on the couch, the game tape still running in the background, the popcorn bowl heavy in my lap.

The clank of weights hitting the rack echoed through the training room.

My arms were already on fire, but I could feel the events from the previous evening burning a hole in my chest even worse.

Jazz hovered just behind the barbell as she spotted me.

I’d been dying to tell someone the moment it had happened, and she was the only person I trusted.

I gripped the bar, feeling the tension in my arms and the heat in my chest. “You’re not going to believe this.”

Jazz’s eyes narrowed, steadying me. “Try me.”

“Rayah hit on me.”

Her hands tightened slightly on the bar, but she didn’t flinch. “For real?”

“Last night.” I exhaled and pressed the bar up one last time before locking it back into place. “She came over unannounced for popcorn and game tape.”

Jazz snorted. “Is that code for freaky sex?”

“No.” I sat up and huffed. “We literally ate microwave popcorn and watched footage of our last game against the Inferno. And then she hit on me.”

“Define ‘hit on me,” Jazz pressed.

“She and her girlfriend apparently have an open relationship while they’re on different sides of the planet,” I said. “She basically implied that I should do the same.”

Jazz leaned against the bench. Her expression was somewhere between amused and impressed. “That seems very enlightened.”

“I should tell Eva, right?” The words felt a little desperate in my throat.

“Shit, I don’t know, Lex. It’s not like it’s going to happen again. You told Rayah you’re not interested, right?”

“I told her I was dating Eva, yeah.”

Jazz cocked her head. “But did you specifically say you weren’t interested?”

“Not in so many words, no.” I grimaced.

“ Are you interested?” Jazz raised her hands in a surrendering gesture. “No judgment either way. With a face card like that, that woman can get it.”

“I’m not. Interested.” I hit the pause between the words, like I was hammering nails into wood.

Jazz squinted at me. “You sound … unconvincing.”

I sat up straighter, my chest tight. “I love Eva. Period. I’m not looking at anyone else.”

That seemed to satisfy my friend—for the moment.

Jazz smirked and grabbed a dumbbell. “Alright, Captain Monogamy. But just so you know, if Rayah Thompson offers to spot me, I’m saying yes.”