Offensive Formations by Christina C Jones

Author:Christina C Jones [Jones, Christina C]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Warm Hues Creative LLC

Fifteen

I wanted to hate the campaign pictures.

I wanted that so, so much, especially considering that I had about a million social media comments declaring some variation of:

Oh my God are y’all a couple now?

Oh my goodness y’all would be so cute together!

I love this, did y’all meet because of that podcast?

Yes, we met because of the podcast, but no, absolutely not.

We were definitely not a couple.

But these campaign pictures were sure doing a magnificent job of making us look like one. The cute couple at the gym, to be specific.

It wasn’t that we were giving each other lovey-dovey googly eyes or anything like that, there was just this… something between us that you could feel looking at the images, which were innocent enough.

Squats in the fitness vest, pictures from the track, stuff like that.

What I hadn’t expected was that a camera was rolling when he’d pulled me outside to talk on that balcony at the first shoot. Not that anything had happened, it just made the energy between us look a little... I don’t know.

A little more intimate.

And I couldn’t even ask to have those images removed, or the video taken down, because if I did, I would have to explain or admit that there was something there I didn’t want the world to see.

And I did not need that.

At least I looked happy though.

I guess that was one positive about people being distracted by the “couple potential” of me and Ambrose in those pics. It camouflaged any telltale signs I’d just been accosted by my abusive ex moments before the shoot started.

Hell… maybe I wasn’t that bad of an actress after all?

I swiped out of social media, going to my text messages instead. I chuckled again at the one from Coach Clyde, showing me a screenshot receipt of where he’d reimbursed me for him completely flouting protocol – at a slam at that – to check on me between sets back in New York.

There was an argument to be made that he wasn’t actually coaching me, since his words had nothing to do with the actual game, and everything to do with making sure I wasn’t exacerbating my bicep strain into something worse.

Something like what had happened to my father.

It had been on all of our minds, so I didn’t even blame him really. I was just lucky it had been a monetary fine instead of a point violation that could have potentially cost me the match.

But since Narcisa was over on the other end of the court faking a medical time out, I think I’d been given a bit of leniency.

I’d told Coach he didn’t have to bother paying me back, since the fine was negligible compared to the purse for that match.

“Absolutely not,” he had insisted. “I ain’t the kinda nigga that don’t pay his debts.”

And well… I was not going to argue with that.

In any case, I kept moving past that message, checking my text thread with Cole and Jordan to make sure there wasn’t anything upcoming I needed to tend to.

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