Chapter Eleven
1140 Words
♠ Austin Hames ♠
I hadn't expected to hear her say those words so soon.
In fact, I wasn't even sure if she would ever say that.
I'd have guessed she might actually be one of those girls that were a huge fan of mine, but was pretending not to be, if I didn't notice the intense exchange of glances between her and Suzy.
“What's going on here?” Suzy asked me, a frown etched in her expression.
“Baby, what's going on here? Why is she here?” Kim asked, leaving me to shake my head.
I didn't have time for arguments between…
Why did they even dislike each other? How did they know each other?
Suzy was a writer and so was Kim. The only sensible explanation was that they were rivals.
But I wasn't going to be the one in the middle of their obviously childish dislike for each other.
“Kim, you should take your leave already.” I told her, my tone expressing my disinterest in their drama.
“But I didn't bring my car,” she glared at Suzy, “and can I talk to you in private?”
No way was I going to start listening to questions on how I met Suzy and our relationships and all she'd obviously ask.
I walked back to the living room, opening the desk beside my 55-inch TV, retrieving the first car key I saw out of five others.
Once I got back to where she was, I handed her the key. “Here, you can take this with you.”
I didn't even want to know how she got here without a car. Just anything to get her out of my house.
Her brows furrowed as she took the keys, “thanks baby,” then offered Suzy a death glare before walking past her, out of my house, slamming the door behind her.
This was why I preferred staying single. I didn't want to have some female acting all girly emotions.
We weren't even really dating and she was already giving me a headache.
Suzy's hands flew to her hips as she drew her brows in askance. “She's your girlfriend?”
“It's a long story,” I went to the living room while she followed beside me, my six foot three figure towering over her five foot eight.
Suzy and I had been friends for three years as she was our team coach's daughter.
I met her for the first time in Canada and for some reason, I found out I didn't mind the fact she spoke casually to me.
I guess it was because she wasn't a huge fan that'd not mind dying if it was to get an autograph.
And so we became closer. Then she traveled back to New York last year, but we were still in contact.
So now that I was back for the meantime (hopefully), she had decided to pay me a visit.
Who would've guessed she would end up meeting her rival who'd tell her she was my girlfriend.
“I don't mind listening to it to the end,” she said, irritation evident in her tone.
Although I didn't want to, I could guess she wouldn't let me go if I didn't tell her about it all so I said as much as I could (removing the fact I was helping her with her novel).
Her frown deepened. “You made such a decision without telling me about it first.”
“I didn't know I was accountable to you ma'am,” the sarcasm was evident in my tone, softening her gaze.
“I mean,” she cleared her throat, dropping her hands, “I'm just annoyed that you're dating the one person I dislike the most. Even if it's for you to get the company.”
“I think I'd date anyone as long as Justin doesn't end up better than I am at anything.”
She rolled her eyes, “you're the world's best basketballer. You're way better than him with just that position.”
“Thanks, but I'm obviously nearing my retirement and I don't want a situation where I'll be jobless but he'd have the company.”
She rolled her eyes, “I don't get why you're so competitive with your own cousin.”
A smile played on my lips, “you're talking like you're not competitive with my girlfriend.”
“Oh don't call her that,” she scoffed, obviously knowing I was just trying to pull her legs, “and our case is way different. She's a pest in my social life and now you have to just have a relationship with her.”
“Whatever,” I took a seat on the couch, “let's talk about something else.”
“Like, how is your ankle?” She asked, accepting the offer of a change of topic.
I shook my left ankle which had undergone a surgery two months ago after a Fifth metatarsal stress fracture. “It's getting better, though I fear it might be warning me that it needs to relax from the court forever.”
“You don't have to do that,” she pulled her brows together, “many basketball players have still continue playing after a surgery.”
“I know, but I think I want to focus on my dad's company for now, then see how things go after this six months break I've been given by your dad.”
“You know he's doing it for your own good, right?” Her voice was soft as though she thought I was annoyed at our coach.
“Of course, even I know how I really need a break from all the jumping around and all.”
“Well, we should think about the bright side,” she said, her voice becoming cherry, “I guess you have six months to spend with your best buddy then.”
“Hmm, I guess.”
But the main thing I was sure of was the fact I had to ensure that after six months, dad doesn't think he should hand over the company to someone else.
I just needed to find a way to convince him to hand it over to me before I had to get back to playing for the country.
“How's your next book going?” I asked, watching her lips curl upwards.
“It's about a male footballer falling in love with his biggest fan,” there was no hiding the excitement she felt about this book.
“Why football and not basketball?”
She shrugged like it wasn't important, “I wanted to try something new. Well, it's like this…”
And like that, she continued explaining all she'd thought of about her book while I just listened.
- Writer
