Always Fighting // Kyrie Irving

Conflicts

Kyrie-

"You're drunk," she said, shrugging off my statement. "You're probably not going to remember this tomorrow."

"I'm not that drunk!" I exclaim, looking at Kevin to back me up. "The whole reason I brought you here was so I could ask you to be my girlfriend. Right, Kev?" He holds up his hands backing away. "No! Kevin, get over here. Look, Sab, I don't know what it is but you're different and I like it. I like you."

She looks completely baffled. "I, I mean, I like you too, Ky. But right now? It's three in the morn-"

I stumble forward, focusing purely on the fact she said 'I like you too,' and try to kiss her, but she ducks tauntingly away, grabbing my hand with hers and slinging her purse over her arm. "Thank you very much for hosting us, Kevin," she says and walks out the door towards my car. She opens the passenger door and ushers for me to get in and when I open my mouth to complain she stops me.

"I have no intentions of dying tonight, alright? Or getting you pulled over and arrested. What happened to maintaining your clean record?" She does have a point. "I'm also not entirely sure what's going on with your mind right now and I don't think I trust you to give me directions back to your place, so..." She reaches over into my pocket and pulls out my phone, asking Siri to give her directions back to home. As she backs out of the driveway, I place my hand on her knee.

"Okay, but is that a yes or a no?"

"You're drunk, Kyrie."

________________________________________

Sab helps me out of the car and in the front door, despite my insistence I can do it myself, somewhere in the back of my head is frustration at how she must portray me after tonight, but that part is overwhelmed by a now pounding headache. She stabilizes me in the long walk up the stair. Seriously, who thought it was a good idea to have two flights of like, fifty stairs between the living room and the bed. I'm going to have to have a serious conversation with the architect.

When we finally reach my bed, she gently sits me down and gets ready to leave.

"But-but, I'm still in my regular clothes," I whimper pathetically in a voice that future Kyrie will hate me for. "And I have a headache."

"I'm not surprised, you had like six beers. And I'm sorry, but I'm not undressing you." She says firmly before shutting the door. Muttering profanities under my breath at the horrible way all of tonight has gone, I take off my shoes and pass out on my bed.

I wake up five hours later to a blaring alarm clock that screams mockingly in my ear. I'm half tempted to chuck my phone against the wall, but speaking from experience that doesn't turn of the alarm. And then you actually have to get up to turn it off. Plus, you have to buy a new screen... if not a new phone. So instead, I fumble around the bed sheets for my phone and turn of the alarm, wondering why I ever set it for nine after staying out till three. I'm half asleep before my eyes jolt awake... Sabrina.

Sabrina-

It was a whole different side to Kyrie last night. And it's not something I can hold against him, I just don't understand why on our last day, he would choose to spend it with the guys. Who he only sees maybe everyday, sometimes twice a day. Shaking my head, I slip another coffee into his Keurig. It's nine in the morning and I'm barely functioning after the late night. And it's not even necessarily the fact I didn't go to bed till almost five o'clock, I had just imagined the night going differently.

Which is not to say I didn't have fun with the guys last night. They included me in their special handshake club and told me all sorts of crazy stories, but it just wasn't what I thought. And maybe Kyrie actually did have good intentions, I just... I just don't know where he was going with it. What did having his teammates there have to do with asking me to be his girlfriend?

The liquid stream comes to a squealing halt as the last of the coffee is deposited into my thrice used cup. I didn't even try to cover up the purple ring under my eyes, knowing no amount of concealer would cover that beast. Opening Kyrie's ginormous fridge, I dig around to find something to eat before I finish shoving everything into my bags.

That's when I hear slow footsteps dragging along the steps, where a tired looking Kyrie slinks his way towards me. For the first time since I met him, it's a little awkward between us. Neither of us are really sure what to say or where to go from here. Finally I can't stand the silence anymore.

"Coffee?" I ask him, motioning to my cup. He shakes his head dully.

"I'm... Sorry." He says, lifting his tired red eyes to meet mine. "I don't really know what I was thinking, you just seemed to get along and enjoy the guys company so much. I don't know. But I promise you I wasn't only asking you to be my girlfriend because I was 'drunk.'"

I look at him carefully, my heart so conflicted at all of this. On the one hand, I really truly like Kyrie, I mean, who wouldn't. He's ever so funny and usually thoughtful. But on the other hand, part of me is scared that to him this is only something like Klay and I had.

"It's okay, really, Ky." I take a sip of the strong coffee and set the hot mug down. "I really do like you, but I can't lose all logical thinking just because your a celebrity. If I'm honest, part of me is just scared that I'll be like one of those other girls. The ones who you hook up with for a day or two and then they go. When Klay and I were... seeing each other-"

"Klay? Klay Thompson?" His eyes shoot open. "You never told me that."

"I didn't think it was the utmost importance. I'm sure you haven't told me all of your relationships!" My tone sounds angry, and I hate myself for losing control so quickly.

"But he's another 'celebrity.'" I can see he is trying to keep his voice steady and calm, but it rises with each word. "How many secrets do you have?"

"We all have skeletons, Kyrie. I'm sure there are plenty of things you haven't told me. We have more than twenty years of memories filling us up, we can't share all of it over the course of a month."

Neither of us says a word after that until my alarm goes of, telling me I have to go. Excusing myself from the room, I fly around to grab my bags and sling them over my shoulder. I'm heading towards the door when Kyrie grabs my arm and forces me to turn around.

He doesn't say anything, just looks at me with eyes that appear to be ready to cry and places a gentle kiss on my forehead. I now feel tears filling my own eyes, but I turn and walk out the door.

How did it go downhill this fast?