Game day
994 Words
Chapter Seven edition version 7
Ava woke before her alarm for the first time in weeks.
No banging walls. No muffled laughter through thin drywall. Just beautiful, peaceful silence.
She stretched slowly beneath the blankets, still half-lost in sleep, until her brain caught up with the reason for the quiet happiness blooming in her chest.
Kia.
Warmth flooded her face instantly. Their late-night conversation replayed in soft fragments as she reached for her phone. The moment the screen lit up, her stomach flipped.
One unread message.
Kia: Tickets sent.
Two VIP digital tickets sat attached below. VIP.
Ava sat up sharply. “Oh my God.”
She stared for another second before typing back quickly.
Ava: Thank you for the tickets, basketball boy.
Have a wonderful day at practice today 😊
The typing bubble appeared almost immediately.
Kia: You’re awake early.
Ava smiled, biting her lip.
Ava: For once.
Kia: Miracles happen.
A soft laugh escaped her. Before she could spiral into overthinking, she tapped her mom’s contact and called.
Two rings.
“Good morning, Mama Mia,” Ava sang dramatically when her mother answered.
Immediate suspicion colored her mom’s voice. “You sound entirely too happy this early. Did you win the lottery?”
“Maybe.”
“Ava.”
“Okay, fine. I have news. Is Dad there?”
A brief pause, then muffled yelling away from the phone.
“DAVID! Your favorite child is calling!”
“I heard that!” her dad shouted from somewhere in the background.
Ava grinned. Seconds later, her father took the phone.
“Hey, my beautiful daughter.”
“Hi, Dad.” She fought another smile. “So… you will not believe who I met yesterday.”
“Who?”
“Kia Kingston.”
Silence.
Then, cautiously: “Don’t play with me this early, Ava.”
“I’m serious!”
Another beat of stunned quiet before her dad exploded.
“MARIA! She said Kia Kingston!”
Ava burst out laughing as chaos erupted on the other end.
“I told him about your very emotional attachment to his career,” she continued, “and he sent us VIP tickets for Saturday’s game.”
Dead silence.
“Dad?”
“Ava,” he said slowly, voice thick, “if this is a joke, I will never emotionally recover.”
“It’s not a joke!”
Her father gasped theatrically. “Oh my God.”
She could hear him moving around frantically. “I HAVE VIP TICKETS!” he yelled away from the phone.
Her mother’s fond laughter filtered through.
“I need to tell Frank—no, Frank doesn’t deserve this news first. Hold on—”
“Dad—”
But he was already gone in a whirlwind of excitement.
Ava laughed harder as her mom picked the phone back up. “Well,” her mother sighed warmly, “there goes the last of your father’s dignity.”
“He’s literally shaking with joy.”
“He cried during a playoff game once, sweetheart. Dignity left years ago.”
Ava smiled softly into her pillow. Then her mother’s tone shifted, turning gently probing.
“So… I feel like you’re not telling me the full story.”
Ava blinked. “What?”
“Don’t ‘what’ me. Spill it.”
“There’s no story.”
“Mhm.”
“Mom.”
“Ava Maria Collins.”
Ava groaned. “Why do mothers always sense everything?”
“Because we invented intuition. Now talk.”
Ava gave in and told her everything—the coffee shop meetings, the quiet intensity in his eyes, the flowers for his mother, the tickets, and their late-night texting.
By the time she finished, her mother stayed suspiciously quiet.
“Oh my God,” Ava muttered. “Why are you silent?”
“That boy likes you.”
Ava nearly choked. “That is absolutely not true.”
“Ava.”
“Mom, be serious. Have you seen the women he dates?” Her mind flashed to Olivia—stunning model, perfect body, glamorous life. Women who looked expensive. Not café baristas who ate midnight tacos in oversized shirts. “I’m not exactly his type.”
Her mother’s voice softened with fierce love. “Ava, I did not raise you to speak about yourself that way. You are beautiful. And more importantly, you are kind, genuine, and warm. A man can look at beautiful women all day long, but it means nothing if they leave him feeling empty inside.”
The words landed deep. Ava swallowed hard.
“Besides,” her mom added lightly, “from everything you described, he sounds far more interested than you realize.”
Ava glanced down at the blanket pooled in her lap, cheeks warming again.
“Anyway,” her mother continued, a smile in her voice, “wear something cute to work today.”
“Mom!”
“What? I’m invested now.”
———————————
Unfortunately, her mother’s words clung to her the entire morning.
Which explained why Ava spent far too long in front of the mirror—adding a touch of mascara, curling her hair into soft waves, and gliding on her rarely-used lip gloss. She even chose the delicate gold earrings usually reserved for weekends.
Completely normal behavior.
Totally not because she hoped a certain tall, brooding basketball player might walk through the café doors again.
By the time she arrived at work, Mia’s eyes widened dramatically behind the counter.
“Oh my God.”
Ava avoided her gaze, tying on her apron. “Don’t start.”
“You’re wearing actual makeup. And your hair is done.”
“I always wear makeup.”
“Tinted moisturizer and survival mode don’t count. This is effort.” Mia leaned in closer, grinning. “Did basketball husband text you?”
Ava’s entire face flushed pink.
Mia let out a quiet, delighted scream. “He did!”
- Writer
