Page 10 of Playing to Win
“I know you don’t like sports, Cas, but how have you lived in Oklahoma for your entire collegiate career and not know who Kyle Kelly is?” Callie asked her as she walked into their tiny living room and plopped down on their hand-me-down couch Aria had grown tired of. “I know you’ve heard me mention him in passing at least. I know my dad has talked about him.”
“Need I remind you that I am a transplant to this great state of yours?” Cassie asked her. “And since I don’t have time to watch TV I want to watch, there’s no way I would watch a sport that I have no interest of any kind. And to be honest, when you and your dad start talking about sports, I just tune you guys out.”
“Well, Ms. Anti-sport, Kyle Kelly is the super star for the Oklahoma City Thunder. The team I dance for.”
“I didn’t think you knew any of the players.”
“I don’t. Well, didn’t. Not personally. I just have to pose with them sometimes. Anyway, that’s not the point,” Callie said with the wave of her hand. “I rammed into him in the parking garage leaving tonight and I lost a game of horse, so now I have to hang out with him five times or squelch on a bet. And my daddy taught me not to squelch on bets.”
“First off, what’s horse?”
“A basketball game.”
“Okay. Well, that was stupid. If he’s a professional basketball player, it probably wasn’t in your best interest to play him in the game in which he apparently thrives.”
“Thank you, Captain Obvious. Now, though, I don’t know what to do. Because technically, I have to hang out with him. But I don’t want to.”
“Why not?”
“This is why not,” Callie said, taking her phone and handing it to Cassie.
“Wowzers,” Cassie said, scrolling through the pictures Callie had pulled up on the internet. “This is one fine specimen of a human being. Is this your Kyle Kelly?”
“He’s not my anything. Well, I guess technically he’s my hang out buddy for five times. Why do I get myself into these situations?”
“Honey, if that’s the worst of your situations, sign me up. I might even watch some sporting events if that’s what I get to watch.”
With a sigh, Callie got up from the couch and walked into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. Plopping down in one of the chairs at their tiny breakfast bar, she had just begun to open the bottle when her phone began to ping.
“Who in the world would be texting you at this hour?”
“If that’s Aria giving me a hard time again, so help me…” Callie walked over to the couch, sidestepping their basket of blankets and picked up her phone where Cassie had left it on their old recliner. Even though it leaned to one side and the leather was worn, when Callie’s dad said he was throwing it out for a new and better model, she snatched it up before he could put it on the curb. A lot of memories watching games in her dad’s lap were made in that chair.
Looking at her phone, she let out a big sigh.
“What’s wrong? Is it your dad? Did something happen?” Cassie peered over her shoulder.
“No, it’s not my dad, but something is wrong.”
“What? What is it?”
“My study buddy has come a-callin’.”
Kyle knewit was a risk to call Curly so soon after their game of horse. He knew the cool thing to do was wait the requisite three days or whatever the guy code was. But seeing as Curly was already gun-shy when it came to men in general, especially athletes, and even more particularly him, he figured he would play it safe and risk her thinking he was inherently uncool rather than actually realize what she agreed to and call him tomorrow saying she had changed her mind.
That was why as soon as he got home, he jumped in the shower, fed Garth, ate a bowl of his favorite cereal, Lucky Charms, and texted the number Callie gave him. He just hoped she had given him a real number and not some fake one that belonged to some random person in the universe.
He put out a feeler text just to be sure.
Kyle: Have you put on the study glasses yet, Curly? A bet’s a bet, you know. No backing out.
He held his phone in his hands, willing it to buzz. He didn’t know what it was about this girl that made him feel like this. Being a professional athlete lent itself to the fact that he could pretty much have any woman he wanted at any time. Not that he took advantage of that. His momma raised him to be a gentleman and he always was. But he was by no means a monk. He’d had his fair share of arm candy, but nothing ever serious. For most every woman he ever dated, there was always some hidden agenda. They wanted to become a Thunder dancer. They thought he could put them in touch with an acting agent, as if he even knew any. He could be their sugar daddy. They never ever seemed to want him for just him, Kyle Kelly. They always seemed to want the basketball or famous version of who he was.
Hell, Curly didn’t even like him. Lord willing, he was going to change her mind. And he only had five times to do it. Which was why he was sitting on the curb outside her apartment, or what she said was her apartment, at three in the morning, with a pizza and sweet tea.
His phone pinged and he couldn’t contain his smile.
Callie: Only losers study at two in the morning.
