I wake up with a knee and foot nudging my leg. Rubbing my eyes, I focus on one of the nurses that is tending to Aran, but she is still sleeping. I hope she remains that way. The nurse shushes me with her index finger to her lips and crooks her finger for me to follow her outside the curtain. Oh, shit. Am I in trouble? I quietly follow her out.

“Sir, Miss Bailey is being admitted and we are ready to move her into her room for the night. Did you want to go up with her?” she asks politely.

The clock on the wall reads 11:40 pm. I’m too groggy to drive right now. I might as well escort her upstairs, get her settled in, and then leave when I’m more awake. Plus then I’ll know where her room is. “Umm, I’ll go up with her. Thanks.”

The nurse hands me a plastic bag neatly stuffed with Aran’s personal belongings. I take it, but stare dumbfounded inside it. Her bright purple bra is on top, taunting me. Damn see-through bag. The orderly unlocks the wheels of the bed as the nurse instructs him to go to Room 410.

I walk beside the bed slowly and quietly, praying that she doesn’t wake up and freak out about being in motion. I’ve done that more times than I care to admit. The hallways are crowded and people quickly move out of my way. They’ve all got that familiar look flashing across their face: freak. I’m way too tall for the doorways around here. We finally make it to the freight elevator and get her inside. This guy’s a master at maneuvering these beds— she’s still sound asleep.

As we wait for the elevator to ascend, I feel a cold hand reach out and grab my pinky finger. Looking down at her, she’s totally wiped out. Purple bruising is just beginning to appear on her once-perfect skin around her cheek and eye. Her mascara has smudged and darkens the skin just under both eyes. She has wild little strands of hair popping out everywhere from her braid. I’ve seen her a hundred times over the past month, and she’s never looked more beautiful.

I clasp her hand in mine and twine our fingers together, infusing some of my heat into her. We finally get off the elevator and approach her assigned room. A new nurse is there to greet us and quickly settles Aran in. After just a few moments, she leaves, giving us privacy.

“I can’t believe you’re still here,” her groggy voice confirms she’s tired.

“I fell asleep downstairs and then didn’t want you traveling up here on your own. Being alone in a hospital sucks. Everyone should have someone there for them,” I explain. I reach for the remote, turning on the TV and lowering its volume, while I walk over and flip off the overhead light. It’s way too fucking bright in here for midnight. “There, that’s better.”

A small sofa squats on the adjacent wall, so I inch it a little closer to her bed, then go to the small closet by the bed. “Jackpot! A pillow and blanket,” I say, turning and waving them at her with a big smile on my face.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

“I’m settling in for a long night of being your “someone.” You got a problem with that?”

“Maybe.” She rakes her fingers through her hair, struggling to remove her braid. Frustrated because she can’t get it undone, she throws her hand up. “Fuck it. I guess I’ll just sleep on a big mound of hair.”

“Here. Let me get it.” I reach behind her and pull out the piece of braid trapped underneath her shoulder blades, then remove the elastic band keeping it together. I separate the pieces of her braid, and run my fingers through her hair. The braiding turned her hair into chunky waves. Opening my fingers wider, I run them through her hair in even strokes, trying to loosen any knots. Her hair is so soft and thick. I’m mesmerized by the color of it passing through my fingers. It reminds me of a red silk tassel I once saw in Chinatown.

Looking down at her face, her eyes are closed and she’s got a relaxed smile on her lips. I smooth out the ripples, lightly scraping my fingers along her scalp until she releases a broken moan from her lips and I freeze. That little moan wakes my dick up—again. Fuck. Walk away, Kyle. Go sit down and leave her alone. “There, tangle free.”

“Thanks,” she murmurs quietly.

I grab the blanket and pillow and settle myself down onto the little couch. It’s kinda hard to settle a 6’10” body onto a four-foot couch comfortably, but I do my best. After releasing a few sighs and grunts, I’m finally snug and close my eyes.

“Ya know, I wonder,” she says “why you’re being so nice to me after ignoring me for a month?”

“Are you not tired?” I sigh as I turn and look at her. She’s so beautiful. I could drown in those sleepy, big, doe eyes.

“Not really tired, no. I just wanna understand you. I feel like I‘m being duped by Mr. Cocky Badass on the court. You’re all ‘give me what’s due’ in public, but then here, tonight, you’re Mr. Gentle Nice Guy. Do you hate me or don’t you? I’m so confused,” she says, holding my gaze. She’s a fierce one.

I release a long sigh and take a few seconds to think about what I want to reveal. The only person that truly knows me is Luke, and that’s enough. He’s been in life’s muddy trenches with me. I never have to explain myself to him. He gets me.

“Listen, Aran. I don’t hate you. I hate what the university is making you do. I don’t mind the promotion piece. Take the pictures and show the world how great I am. I don’t care. It’s the ‘for their benefit’ part that I don’t like. I’m being used for recruitment, again. Like they made me. They didn’t. I worked my ass off to be here. I came up from nothing. I sacrificed, and made the choice to practice, over and over and over, to be this great. I’m a self-made man, and they’re trying to take credit for it,” I growl, remembering to lower my voice before I start screaming at her. This whole topic pisses me off.

I push the blanket away, and swing my legs to the floor. She’s not going to let me sleep tonight. I might as well get comfortable.

“They redshirted me my freshman year to keep me around longer. I’m a fifth year senior. Everything they’ve done keeps promoting that I’m here. I want to be gone and done with this place already. I promised my mom I’d graduate, and fuck it, I will. But I’m done with them using me. They’ve made millions of dollars off me, while my mom and her foster kids are still barely scraping by. I’m not the one duping you. It’s them, and their business practices.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” she says. I can hear the exhaustion in her voice, but she doesn’t look like she’s ready to give up the night yet.

A nurse comes in, and quietly proceeds to check all of the bags hanging on the hooks above the bed, takes Aran’s temperature and blood pressure, and gives her two pills to swallow before leaving without a word. The nurse’s quiet efficiency gives me some time to calm down.

She heaves a heavy sigh and adjusts her blankets. “Tell me about your family. Where are you from?”

“Seriously? This is the shit you wanna know?” I laugh.

“Yes! You can tell a lot about a person by the way they speak of their loved ones.”

I guess I’ll give her the abbreviated version. Maybe that will shut her down for the night. “I’m from a neighborhood in Denver called Lincoln Park. It’s one of the most fucked-up, crime-riddled neighborhoods in the city. You don’t go out after midnight or you’re likely to get stabbed,” I announce, looking up to show her the truth in my eyes. “That’s where I learned to play basketball. Street ball. I used to hustle the other boys—and even some grown men—for money on those courts. I’d take it back to my mom, so she could feed us all.”

“How many kids were there?”

“Seven. Mom, me and five foster kids. She liked to keep five around, all of varying ages.”

“Were you the oldest of the kids?”

Wow. She’s just fire-bombing questions at me one right after the other. “Do you really wanna know any of this or are you just passing time since you’re awake? Because I’ve lived a shit life. Like, we’re talking up-to-your-shoulders-in-shit life, and if you like even one tiny thing about me now, you’ll hate me after this conversation,” I say through gritted teeth, rubbing the exhaustion from my eyes.

“I didn’t mean to upset you. I like to know my subjects a little bit. I feel like I get better results when I can connect with the person a little. It helps me predict their moves so I can be there to capture their moments of glory,” she yawns, stretching out those last words while talking. Her eye lids are drooping and I know sleep is coming again soon. Thank god.

“You won’t find my moments of glory in my shitty childhood. They’re hidden in other’s miscalculation of distance. Where timing is everything. Where whose arms are longer, and whose legs are stronger dominate. You just keep those beautiful eyes on me at all times and you’ll find my glory moments. No doubt,” I cock my head back and wink at her, throwing her one of my million dollar smiles.

Her big green eyes are transparent in the light shining from the TV. I swear I can see right through them. If only I could read her mind. She’s a tough one, and I like that. She knows what she wants and won’t let anyone stop her. She fiddles with her blanket and I get up and adjust it for her.

“You need to go to sleep,” I tell her. “You have a big day tomorrow.”

“I do?” she asks bewildered.

I bend down and tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She grabs my hand again and just holds it, playing with my fingers. “Yes, you have surgery on your ankle. Remember?”

“That’s not what I was asking about. You think I have beautiful eyes?”

“Yes. They’re beautiful. Now close them and go to sleep.” I un-lace our fingers, and lay back down, twisting to my side so I can see her. She turns her face towards me and I watch her eyes drift shut.

It’s 1:15 am now and I’m wide awake wondering what the fuck I’m doing here with her. I’m responsible for her now. I broke her ribs and shattered her ankle. Work hazard, I remind myself. She has to be prepared for players to fall. It’s a tough lesson to learn.

I can’t fall for her. She’s business. I need to think of her that way. But damn, I’d love to fuck her. Just once. To be in control of her and let her unleash all that fire on my dick in one night. Holy hell.

I need to stay focused. I’m leaving soon. Just a few more months, and I’ll walk out of here with a diploma in my hand and an NBA contract in the works. No more family baggage, no more recruitment promos, and no more “someone else” stealing my show. I’m getting as far away from here as possible. Aran is not in my future, but I’ll take care of her until she’s better. I owe her that, at least. Then I’ll leave her behind.