NBA Alphabet One-Shots

jersey - blake griffin

Siman was taken aback. "Do you have any respect for women?"

"Uh, yeah. If I was disrespectful, I would've backed right out of your driveway and not picked you up for this date once I saw that you weren't hot."

Siman bit her cheek. She very well knew she could end his life right there with just a few short sentences, but she decided to be nice and not bite back. Instead, she stood up from her seat, slinging her shoulder bag over her right arm.

"Yo, where you goin'?"

"I'm saving both of us from having a bad day."

He narrowed his eyes into slits as his voice rose. "You're ditching me? Nah, babe, it don't work like that."

Siman smiled in a faux sweet manner. She wasn't about to lie; it felt extremely satisfying to show her rude date up. "Oh, but Myles, that's how it works today. See you later, babe."

"Whatever. By the way," he called after her at a volume that the whole lower level could hear, "You make that jersey look ugly."

She huffed. "Too bad, because I'm taking this with me."

She walked into the tunnels, still seething from the encounter with her date. Her shoulders slumped as she walked aimlessly, disappointed that yet another one of her dates turned sour.

And to top it off, Myles had insulted her in front of dozens of people around them. Her face still burned at the thought.

God, she hated that jersey.

Siman, too heated in her own thoughts to notice a six-foot-ten man walking in her direction, formed an intimidating scowl on her face. She appeared so unapproachable that Blake Griffin was nearly afraid to walk by the shorter woman. Something in the power forward told him she needed a little bit of cheering up, so he was determined to help.

As he passed by, Blake glanced at her top. His eyes glinted with joy upon seeing the number 32-his number-sewn across the jersey.

"Nice jersey. It fits you."

The young woman glanced up, disoriented, and realized that Blake Griffin stood in front of her with a grin playing on his lips.

"Thanks. It's my date's." Her lips again transformed into a scowl. "He called me ugly, so I left."

Blake held back a chuckle at her bluntness, even though nothing she stated was meant to be funny. "With his jersey?"

"He deserved it. He was an asshole."

"Says the one who stole his jersey."

Siman stared at him as if he grew a third eye. "Are you defending him?"

"Those things aren't cheap, you know."

"He was an ass."

"I'm an ass, too, but I wouldn't appreciate if someone stole my jersey."

"You're just asking for me to walk away."

Blake waved a hand, dismissing her words. "For what it's worth, I'm a little less of an asshole than him. At least I have the right mind to realize you're far from ugly. Your date must have a horrible taste in women."

"I mean, he goes to strip clubs in his free time."

"Really? I bet I know which ones. See, there's this one place a few blocks down-"

"I'm leaving now."

"I'm just messing with you." Blake let out a hearty laugh at her sour facial expression. "I'm more of a 'Netflix, no chill' kinda guy."

"In between the days where you punch your friends in your free time. I get it."

He faked a hurt expression. "When did this conversation turn into a Blake Griffin roast?"

"When the adjective 'ass' came up."

Not a beat passed before a smile grew onto both of their faces, and they shared a laugh with each other. Blake spoke again but was interrupted by the buzzer sounding out on the basketball floor.

"You better go warm up," Siman encouraged. As she was about to walk to the exits, she felt a light tap on her wrist.

"The buzzer interrupted what I was saying. I wanted to say that you have a beautiful smile. You should smile more, and don't let asshole dates ruin that." He leaned forward. With his thumb and forefinger, he moved her mouth into an exaggerated grin.

Heat crept onto her cheeks. "Thanks, Blake." She smiled again, this time with gratitude. "And thanks for helping me get my mind off that train wreck of a date. I guess it's a sign I'm not meant to go out ever again."

"What do you mean?" He frowned.

"I had a boyfriend for a couple years. After we broke up, each of my dates ended up worse than the last."

Blake leaned on the wall just mere inches from Siman, causing her breath to hitch at his proximity. "How would you like to change that?"

She quirked an eyebrow. "How?"

"Just let me give you my number, and the rest will work itself out." He winked. "I promise." As he added his name to her contacts list on her phone, he casually asked, "Your name is Siman, right?"

"Yes. How did you know that?" she asked suspiciously.

"Your name's written in Sharpie on the top right of the jersey. My guess is that he buys a jersey for every girl he brings on a date to basketball games. You can probably fill in the rest."

"Seriously? He is such an-"

"Asshole?" Blake chuckled. "Yeah, I heard. So, are you giving back that jersey now?"

A small grin spread across the young woman's face. "Nah."