Hook Shot (Hoops #3)(32)

“Remember what I told you,” I say, so close the words brush our lips together for just a second. “The next time we kiss, you have to make it happen.”

She steps back, putting some space between us, but it’s only distance. Those few inches can’t dispel the way we’re connected, and soon I think we’ll both have to stop ignoring it.

“I don’t kiss my friends,” she says, only half joking, her eyes sober.

“Good,” I say with a smile. “Then when you kiss me, I’ll know you want to be more than just my friend.”





9





Lotus





I’m in the backroom with my laptop working on spec sheets when the Spanish Inquisition shows up.

Or rather, the Dominican Inquisition.

“So have you talked to Kenan Ross?” Yari asks from the doorway, chewing on a stick of beef jerky. She loves that stuff.

I glance up, slightly exasperated. I’m sandwiched between two sewing machines to avoid the socialness in the office that sometimes distracts me.

Also, because I don’t want to talk to her about Kenan. Especially after my conversation with him in the stairwell. I haven’t talked to Billie or Yari about Kenan because there wasn’t much to report. Not anything concrete other than an attraction stronger than I’ve ever felt before. Otherwise, nothing to see here.

“Uh, we ran into each other on my way back from Mood Fabrics,” I say, eyes never straying from my laptop screen.

“He was here looking for you,” Billie says, appearing from behind Yari.

Great. Both of ’em.

“Was he?” I ask, all super caszh.

“Yeah, girl,” Yari says, coming all the way in and hopping up onto one of the dusty sewing tables. “But he was trying to play it off.”

“Not with me, he wasn’t,” Billie chimes in, taking the table opposite Yari’s. “Came right out and asked me where she was.”

I split an irritated glance between the two of them. “Have you asked yourselves why someone who has a perfectly good office up on the second floor is working in a backroom on the first?”

“Of course, we asked ourselves that,” Billie says sweetly. “And we deduced you wanted us to have some privacy so you could spill the tea.”

“What tea?” I elevate one brow.

“Yeah, like have you kissed him again?” Yari asks, gnawing on that damn jerky.

“Of course, she hasn’t,” Billie chides. “She would have told us.”

“No, she wouldn’t,” I reply, giving up on productivity and closing my laptop.

“Well at least tell us how you’re doing with the sex strike,” Yari says. “We live together, and I don’t even know what’s going on with you.”

“I’ve been busy.” I rub tired eyes. “There’s a little thing called Fashion Week coming, and we have a collection to produce, a show to plan. So, ya know, there’s that.”

“We have work, too,” Billie says defensively. “But we wouldn’t let that get in the way of the details.”

“What details?” I ask cautiously.

“The dick ones,” Yari says, looking at me like why do I have to explain this? “I mean, we know Chase has been trying again. Did he wear you down?”

“Or wear you out?” Billie flashes a wanton grin and pulls out a cigarette. “You girls don’t mind if I smoke, do you?”

“Yes,” Yari and I answer in unison.

“Whuh?” Billie asks, the word distorted by the cigarette dangling between her lips. “Where am I supposed to smoke? It’s like the whole world has turned on nicotine.”

“Because the whole world has turned on nicotine,” I say. “Around the time we found out it kills you.”

“But it’s not fair.” Billie pouts, still managing to suck on her cigarette like she’ll get some of the effect even with it unlit. “I’m sure it’s a violation of our civil rights.”

“Please don’t tell two women of color that not being able to freely smoke your cigarette is part of the struggle,” Yari says.

“But the struggle is real,” Billie insists. “And we smokers do have rights.”

“Excuse me, White Girl Magic, but with all the shit wrong in the world,” I say, having to suppress my laughter, “you’re standing up for lung cancer? That’s your soap box?”

“We all have vices,” Billie says, trying to sound earnest, but her lips are starting to twitch, too.

“Just don’t blow your vice in my face.” Yari chuckles. “But we’re getting distracted from the matter at hand. Lo, how is celibacy treating you?”

“It’s only been a few weeks.”

“Yeah, but you can’t go cold jerky,” Yari says, chewing on her meat stick.

“I think you mean cold turkey,” Billie corrects.

“I mean cold . . .” Yari mimes pushing the meat stick in and out of her mouth. “. . . jerky.”

“That’s so bad,” I say with distaste. “I’ve gone weeks without sex before, so I’m fine.”

I don’t mention that the only time I think about sex is around Kenan. They’d run with that, and justifiably so.