The whole time my eyes were watching Kilyier intensely. He had the ball now, he crossed the player in front of him and shot a three-pointer.
I smiled softly at the sound of the crowd cheering for him but he didn't look too happy.
"Number two is so fine." A cheerleader giggled. "Go Ramos!"
I rolled my eyes, choosing to ignore and pay attention back to the game.
Number 1 on the opposite team was dribbling in front of Kilyier; his mouth was moving so I knew he was talking to him.
Whatever he said pissed Kilyier off so bad that he shoved him to the ground.
The whistle blew and his teammates had to hold him down from beating the shit outta him. What happened that fast?
The bench he sat by was right next to the bleachers so all I had to do was lean down to face him.
"Aye, what the fuck are you doing?" I moved his face by his chin so he could see it was me.
His angry eyes glared mine, quickly softening when he realized who it was. "You didn't hear what his bitch ass said to me. Nigga brought up my brother!"
"So?"
"So? Fuck you mean so?" He repeated confusedly.
"So... are you gonna let him win and talk shit about you brother or are you gonna mop the floor with his ass?" I motivated him.
He flickered his eyes, a grin pulling on his lips. "Damn Princess, you really know how to calm a nigga down."
"Just kick his ass. If not for me for Semaj." I told. "Oh and one more thing...
The cheerleader who was previously gawking over him gasped when she saw me kiss his lips passionately.
That kiss must've really helped him because he walked out to the court like a new person.
"Y'all thought it was over?" Kilyier dripped the ball his teammate passed him in front of them teasingly.
♫
Ain't this what they've been waitin' for?
You ready? Uh, uh
♫
Shot, after short, after shot and he making it all. The score was 38-26 and it was only three minutes left of the game.
"C'mon, Ramos!" His coach shouted excitedly from the sidelines.
My corny ass thought it was a good idea to do a cheer for him, obviously it was a good idea because the crowd was cheering along.
"Gimmie a R!"
"R!"
"Gimmie a A!"
"A!"
"Gimmie a M!"
"M!"
"Gimmie a O!"
"O!"
"Gimmie a S."
"S!"
♫
I used to pray for times like this, to rhyme like this
So I had to grind like that to shine like this
In a matter of time I spent on some locked-up shit
In the back of the paddy wagon, cuffs locked on wrists
Seen my dreams unfold, nightmares come true
It was time to marry the game and I said, "Yeah, I do."
♫
Kilyier cocky smile made me wanna drop to my knees. There was something about a boy in a basketball jersey.
There was ten seconds left on the board. Number 11 on his team tossed him to ball since he was closer to the net.
He caught it effortlessly, running up to the net before jumping and dunking it.
It might of well have been a concert for him the way the crowd went crazy.
His teammates crowded over him excitedly but there was only one person he really wanted to see. Me.
"See? That's wasn't so bad, Ramos." I smiled toothily, wrapping my hands around his neck.
"Cause of you, Jones. I like that little cheer you started." He rocked us back a forth.
"Mhm."
He pulled away licking his lips. "But I like that lil skirt way better."
I rolled my eyes and hit him playfully. Kilyier cut his laughter off short when his teammate walked up to us.
"Wassup, Angelo." He dabbed him up.
"Wassup. Nice to finally meet you." He shook my hand.
"You too." I smiled confusedly.
"Uh Tyson throwing a celebration party. You coming?" Angelo asked him.
He glanced to me with raised eyebrows. "You down?"
"Hell yeah."
...
thirty nine
Start bij het begin
