Previously known as Secrets // Kyrie Irving.
In honor of my thirteen-year-old self, I have kept the book as I first wrote it. No edits, no changes, no adaptations. So, if you so please, come join the adventures of Kyrie Irving and company as they t...
"Frick frick frick frick!" I mutter to Danielle, who sits patiently on her couch staring at me over facetime. I had planned on keeping this whole thing a secret, but I need my best friend with me to help get ready.
"Chill girl, you're a queen. Who Kyrie friggin' Irving just asked on a dinner date. You'll be fine." She pulls a spoon out of her Ben and Jerry's ice cream tub and licks it clean. Considering she loves to party, I'm surprised she is actually home right now, seeing as her 'boss' is currently getting ready to go on a date with an NBA star.
I hold up the two options I'm deciding between, having stopped at the mall earlier today. I asked Kyrie if it was formal or not. All he did was give me a wink and say "Possibly."
I'm sure all girls can relate to the horror when your date doesn't tell you the dress code. Are you going to a really expensive restaurant or... like... In 'n Out?
Operating under the realization Kyrie is a celebrity, I picked out options that were dressier.
"Which one?" I ask Danielle.
"Uhm..." She slips another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. Motioning with her utensil to the outfit on the right. "That one!"
I nod my head in agreement. It's a deep burgundy peplum top, with black skinny jeans, and a pair of strappy three and a half inch heels. Secretly, as I'm sure is another relate able situation, I had my favorite of the two choices, which thankfully was hers as well. Our other option was a navy blue dress that was almost a bodycon, but she labeled it as 'too... sexy' for a first date. I'll be returning it shortly.
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I quickly change as she reluctantly puts her ice cream tub back in the freezer, remembering she was supposed to be on a diet. When she comes back, her eyes widen.
"You look gorgeous, babe!"
Moving the phone to the bathroom, I plug in my curling iron and fix my second day hair with some dry shampoo before putting in some loose waves. Whipping out my Naked2 Palate, I apply a light smokey eye look, mascara, and a mauve lipstick. I've never been a foundation girl, it makes my skin feel like it can't breath, so I avoid it at all costs.
I'm ready several minutes before Kyrie agreed to pick me up, which means I can get out my pre-date nerves. Nerves, ha! More like pre-date earthquakes... or tsunamis... or tornadoes. Basically, I'm drowning in my own anxiety.
What if he holds my hand? What if my hand is sweaty?
Kyrie-
Deep breath in, deep breath out.
Just exactly how long has it been since I was on a real date? I mean, there are instances like the one at the hotel, but when did I actually go pick a girl up? Is it bad that I honestly can't remember?
Sabrina texted me her address and I told her I'd pick her up at 7. Only Thompson knows about this, and that's only because he's my roomie. When I started to get ready to go, he gave me the "what you think you're doing?" look... and I caved. Apparently, I'm terrible at holding in information.
I pump my shoulders up and down and try to crack my neck as I make the walk up to her apartment. I only get the nervous for big games, never with girls. Ever. I'm the smooth talker, Mr. Suave. Honestly, I don't know what version of Kyrie this is, but I'm not sure how I feel about him.
Pulling out my phone, I send her a text asking if I should come up to her apartment or if she wants to come down. She responds right away, saying she'll be right there. I try to relax into one of the lobby's couches, but I find myself slightly jittery.
Dude. Calm down. You're perfectly fine. Girls love you.
I hear the elevator doors open, and straighten my posture. Andddd... Crap.
Does she get prettier every time I see her?
"Hey!" I say, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically, holding my arms out for a hug. She tentatively walks into them. "Shall we?" Shall we? Come on, what is this? The eighteen hundreds? M'lady might I haveth the honor of escorting thy presence to our means of transportation? Seriously. I shake my head slightly and lead her to the car.
Half hour later, we've arrived at the restaurant, which was only supposed to be ten minutes away. Some of us don't live in California, apparently traffic sucks. The waiter leads us to our seats right away, ushering us right past the wait line.
"Called ahead," I explain, when I see her slightly stunned expression.
The waiter lists off a few of their most popular dishes, asking if any of those appeal to us. I look at Sabrina and she nods her head.
"I'll have the, uhm, braised pork. Sabrina?"
"The same, please." She says hurriedly.
The darkened atmosphere of the room sets a gentle tone, and our conversations travels smoothly from topic to topic, alternating who we talk about. Sometimes, I don't always love the extra things that come from being 'famous.' Like the fact Sabrina already knows a lot about me, yet I know nothing about her. It feels horribly unbalanced, so I try to direct questions to her as much as possible.
In the beginning, everything seem centered around basketball. She'd ask about what it's like to be on the inside, and I'd ask how long she been a fan. Then we got more comfortable, falling into a rhythm that ended the last of my nerves.
"I died laughing at your valentine song!" She exclaims. "Our fans, our fans."
I cover my face with my hand, trying to choke back a laugh. "I hope you know I can sing better than that!"
"Oh, I'm sure you can... just apparently not to a parody." A grin breaks out on her face and I shake my head at her. "It was great, though. Especially since you were the only one singing! Every one else was just kind of talking to the mic."
Two hours later, we stand outside her apartment complex, the talking slowly dying down.
"Thank you, Kyrie," She laughs lightly. "That was a lot of fun."
I give a small laugh. "Yes it was. I still can't believe I spilled my drink."
"I can't either!" Her eyes widen in shock. "You should have seen the look that couple next to us gave you!"
"Hey!" I hold my hands up, mocking defense. "It's not like I'll ever see them again! Who cares what they think?"
She glances towards the main entrance and I know I need to let her go back inside. I have an early flight tomorrow, and should probably get some sleep because, I mean, who really sleeps well on an airplane?
"I guess I should be letting you go," I say, stepping forward to give her a hug. As she pulls away, my eyes unconsciously flicker down to her soft lips, then back to her eyes. Somehow, my hand ends up resting on her cheek. I mean, I guess it now or... I stop thinking, over observing, and I gently lean my face towards her.
"Can I-"
"Yes," She interrupts, and I kiss her softly. I pull away few seconds later, and her eyes are still closed. When they flutter open, she playfully bites her lip and walks slowly away.
This woman could quite possibly be the death of me.
