He grins, tucking Bristol, who looks like she’s about to fall over from fatigue, in closer to him.
“I love that skirt, Lotus,” Bristol says. “Jean-Pierre Louis?”
“Yeah, it is.” Lotus lifts a frothy layer of her black skirt. “And thanks.”
“I love his stuff,” Bristol adds.
“Lotus works with JP.” I toot her horn, since she obviously doesn’t plan to.
“No way!” Bristol’s eyes widen and sharpen with new respect. “It’s the one show I want to attend during Fashion Week.”
“I can get you a ticket if you like,” Lotus says easily.
“Seriously?” Bristol walks over and pulls her cell from her pocket. “Let me get your number.”
“I was invited to play in the celebrity game at the All-Stars next year,” Grip tells me. “You know ballers want to rap, and rappers want to ball.”
“Not this baller,” Lotus offers. “Kenan’s more of a jazz guy.”
“For real?” Grip’s brows arch. “I love Miles, Monk, Coltrane, Ella. Who you into?”
“All of the above and then some,” I reply, pleased to find someone my age with a real appreciation for another era. “You’ll have to come see my vinyls.”
“Oh, you’ll have to see his, too,” Bristol says with a grin. “He’s obsessed. Vinyl and sneakers.”
“Yeah, I noticed the eighty-fives,” I tell him, nodding to his Jordans.
“Well you know,” he preens, “just a lil’ something for New York.”
We all laugh and start the final round of hugs and goodbyes.
“I’m back on the west coast in a few weeks,” I tell Grip. I don’t look at her, but Lotus stiffens beside me. Her hand clenches mine. “Let’s try to get up before All-Star weekend.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Once we’ve gone our separate ways, Lotus and I walk back to the Great Lawn and into the park. I broach something I’ve been thinking about all night.
“Lotus, we haven’t had much time together since we became . . .” I hesitate over what to call us. “. . . more than friends.”
“True,” she says, linking her elbow with mine. “And it’s only gonna get harder. I’d almost forgotten you have to go back to San Diego soon.”
“Yeah, I got about a month left. Training camp starts in September.” I guide us over to a bench to sit for a second. “I want to make the most of the time we have before I go.”
“And the show is only three weeks away,” she replies. “It’s about to get crazy. No sleep and barely time for anything besides JPL.”
“Yeah, I know.” I bring her fingers to my lips. “Come stay with me tonight. We don’t have to—”
“Yes.” Moonlight softens the angles, the bones of her face. “We don’t have to fuck, you were gonna say.”
I laugh and pull her into me, wishing I could drag her onto my lap right now. “Basically, but I want tonight with you. I want to wake up and have breakfast.”
“French toast, and bacon and eggs?” she asks tauntingly.
“Uh, egg whites and fruit for me,” I reply with a smile. “But go for yours.”
She shifts until our eyes meet.
“Oh, I’m definitely going for mine.”