Page 5 of Playing to Win
Great, Kyle thought. Another one of my mindless, speechless, adoring fans. He hoped she wasn’t hiding in the bathroom like the last one.
“You,” Curls spit, her eyes turning into slits and her forehead crinkling in a frown. “You could at least friggin’ apologize for knocking me to the ground and spilling all my stuff.”
Well, there goes the speechless idea, he thought with an internal smile. This girl was feisty with a capital F. “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth, Curly?” he asked her, dropping to the ground to help pick up her stuff. Well, everything but the tampons. He wasn’t touching those things with a ten foot pole.
“I have a name, Kelly,” she spit back at him. “Not that you would know. Or care.”
“Now, Curly, that’s not nice. Here I am, helping pick up all your stuff. The least you could do is tell me your name,” he said, turning on the charm.
“You really don’t have any idea who I am, do you? Figures. Why would a big, famous guy like you have any idea who I am? It’s not like I stood by you for the last three friggin’ hours smiling a cheesy ass smile for all the idiots trying to grab my butt all night.”
Kyle stood up, handed her the items he had picked up, and stared at the firecracker in front of him. Crazy blonde curls pulled up in a haphazard bun on top of her head. Big, hazel eyes on a makeup-less face. A dotting of adorable freckles on her nose. A big baggy green Sea World t-shirt that looked about a hundred years old, and a pair of Under Armour sweats. Why in the world would she think he knew her?
“You are insufferable!” she yelled, shoving him in the chest with both her hands. “It figures you wouldn’t recognize me with clothes on!”
It then dawned on him. Curly was the fancy little Thunder dancer that was locker room fodder every time Vanessa pulled out a new routine for the squad. The looky but no touchy dancer that hated all things NBA player. Kyle thought every guy on the team, married or not, at one time had a crush on the little vixen standing in front of him. He contributed it to the fact that she oozed unavailability. But he did have to admit, Curly filled out a Thunder cheer suit very nicely. However, if given a choice of this stripped down version or the dolled-up, decked-out dancer made up for the masses, he would have to say he much preferred this one.
“Well now, Curly, I didn’t recognize you without your pom-poms,” he said with a grin. ”And all the gunk on your face. I must say, I think I prefer this look to you all dolled up.”
“Said no man ever,” Curly said with a hint of a smile.
“You didn’t let me finish. I was going to say although I did like to see you half naked.”
“And that’s the chauvinistic spirit of all men in general I know and love.”
“Do you hate all men in general or is it just me? Do you bat for the other team?”
“What? No!” Curly’s face turned red as one of the cherry tomatoes he helped his meemaw pick from her garden every summer. “I just know your type.”
“My type what?”
“Your…man type,” Curly moved her hands all around his torso in a sweeping gesture. ”Tall. Athletic. Handsome. Full of yourself.”
“You think I’m hot? And how do you know I’m full of myself? I may be the most humble person on the face of the planet. You don’t know me.”
“Handsome. I said handsome. And you, mister,” she said, poking him in the chest with her pointer finger, “are most certainly not humble.”
“I think a game of Horse says differently.”
“What?”
“A game of Horse. Have you been around the game of basketball much? Or do you just shake your booty and call it good? Don’t worry. It’s a fairly simple game. I’m sure I can teach you. My four-year-old nephew caught on pretty quickly.”
“I know how to play Horse,” she said, stomping her foot.
“Well, that’s great. Then we play.”
“What happens if you win?”
“You have to go out on five dates with me so I can show you how humble I am.”
“I don’t date professional athletes.”
“Fine. We hang out,” Kyle continued with finger air quotes, “Five times. And I choose the places we hang out. No arguments.”
Curly paused, her fingers absentmindedly twirling an errant curl that had strayed from the wild bun on top of her head. Kyle had no idea what made him throw the idea out at her. Maybe it was the fact that she made him forget about how tired he was. Forget about how the only thing he wanted to do was go home to his nine-year-old cat. Or maybe it was the fact that his heart skipped a beat when she gave him that slight smile and blushed when she got caught calling him handsome. Whatever the reason, it was enough to have him crossing his fingers that she would say yes.
“Fine,” she said in a huff. “You’ve got a deal.”
