Seated at this beautiful restaurant waiting for Adira to arrive. We decided to see how things go as far as our schedule. Three days later, after the DMs situation, we had a little time to spare. We've been talking to each other on the phone at night. She really does have a busy schedule. She told me she was in her last year of medical school. I was like, damn!

This will be my third time seeing her, this time without scrubs. I had my driver pick her up that way I know she'll get back with no issues. I also had the restaurant close down for the evening. The owner knew who I was, and they agreed to it. I notified him yesterday morning. They said they could work it in. I knew it was a last-minute ask, so I'll compensate them for this.

Before I left the house, my mom kept asking me where was I going, which kind of annoyed me. I need to get some privacy between us. I told her I was going out to meet one of my friends. That's all she needed to know.

After about ten minutes Adira and my driver Ben came walking in the front entrance. I stood up when they came closer in my view. She was stunning. Her curls were longer, oppose to the short curls or ponytail she'd wear. She wore an elegant white fitted dress. The entire look was well put together. I can tell she's not a person who's into makeup. It's almost like shes this tomboy who grew into her femininity as she got older. She made an effort for the evening, but she looked uncomfortable in her heels and dress.

"Here you are Zo, Ms. Thompson," Ben stated nodding to Adira. I stood up.

"Thanks, Ben, I appreciate it." Both of us shared a smile. He went on to leave. I walked from behind the table gesturing for a hug, and she accepted. The embrace was brief. I helped her get seated in the chair across from me before regaining mine. She leaned back, waving her fingers in the air dramatically, relieved.

"Hello, Mr. Martin." She smiled, sitting up. We shared a little laugh.

"Ms. Thompson, you look amazing."

"Thank you, and so do you." She shifted around, getting comfortable, placing her handbag in the empty seat next to her.

"Did you have any issues getting here?"

"No, none at all. This is nice." She looked around admiring the dim-lit, empty room. Space is exquisite with long gold draped curtains, cloth-covered tables, and chandeliers throughout.

"This is my first time here, but I heard the food was good."

"Good because I'm a foodie. Trying new things or cooking something new gets me all giddy." She gleamed with excitement as she picked up her menu. The server came over and brought out some water for the table. He left, giving us a little time to look it over.

"You have good energy. You're all hyped over the simplest thing." I smiled at her. Both of us laughed. "You said you cook?"

She nodded. "Yep, my mother is Spanish, and my dad is African American, of course, I cook. I don't have much choice but to know-how. —My family would cast me away if I didn't." She laughed. "All of my siblings' know-how, even my baby sister. My dad sometimes will get in the kitchen too. He's a meat and potatoes guy. So don't expect anything beyond that from him."

"You have two sisters and a brother right, and he's your twin?" I asked, trying to remember if that's what she said to me, during one of our phone conversations.

"Yep."

"Your brother and I have something in common then. I have three sisters."

"Mmhm and he plays basketball too. I didn't mention that." She tilted her head slightly.

"He does? He plays professionally?" I furrowed my brows curiously. "What team? I probably know him."

"He plays overseas in Europe. He's currently back home due to an injury. His name is Julian Thompson, Jr. Everyone calls him Jr. We don't look alike at all, especially with our height difference.

I instantly knew who he was as soon as she said his name. He's major over there. I chuckled a bit. "Tall, curly hair with a loudmouth. I know Jr, although we called him Jr. Red when I played him. We had two juniors playing. He was the light skin jr. I played him in a tournament one summer.

"Yep you sure did, my baby sister never let us forget that. She's a huge fan. She adores you. —But that's the baby girl. We're all very protective over that one."

"Oh yeah? Then I'll have to meet her. We're the same way with my little sister."

We finally decided on what we wanted to eat, so we put in our orders. The waiter came back with a bottle of champagne. He poured mine, and before he could pour Adiras', she held her hand over her glass, shaking her head. I peered at her curiously.

"I'm ok with my water." She smiled, taking a sip. I nodded.

"So, medical school, huh?"

"Yes, medical school." She giggled.

"Is that something your passionate about, or is it because your father does what he does?" I remembered she told me about her dad being the medical director, so I felt it was only befitting to ask.

"This has always been my dream, being a doctor, specializing in cosmetic surgery. —Well, the cosmetic part came later."

I raised my brows, fixing my posture slightly. I waited to see how she would explain this to me. How did this, in particular, become her dream, especially in this society now.

"That look you're giving me is the same look I always get from people as I'm telling this story." She smiled.

"I'm trying to imagine you sitting in class one day or at home and all a sudden you want to be a cosmetic surgeon. —Question, before you tell the story. Would you ever consider plastic surgery and if so, where?"

She smiled a moment before answering. "I'm not against it. I would want to make sure I'm mentally prepared, with counseling. I would consider it. —Example, sometimes you get to an age where things start shifting or if you have children, then things can also shift. If you've had a problem area your entire life that you want to correct, I don't see why not. —Say if you lose weight, but you still have loose skin. I don't see a problem with getting that corrected.— I don't have an answer for what I would get done personally, but I'm open to it."

"Oh." I simply nodded. Cosmetic surgery is not my thing, and she doesn't need it.

"—But make no mistake, I am only for doctors who value their responsibility and best interest for their patients. What drove me to this exactly was some people I've met along the way. Some had horrible botched jobs, some were addicted, and some were, in my opinion, too young. Parents are signing for teenagers to get implants. When their body hasn't fully developed.— I want to learn as much as I can in this field. Educate and reach out to as many people as possible. To shift this wave, we have now, because I feel like it starts with the doctors."

I listened on now, really intrigued.

"I want to make a difference, and shed some light as well because cosmetic surgery isn't a bad thing. It's when it's abused and misused, is when it becomes a problem. A lot of surgeons are in it for the money, and that's the main issue." She paused, catching her breath. "People have their opinions about how bad someone looks after surgery, but what are they doing to better the situation? Opinions won't change anything." She added.

"I agree with you, and honestly you're opening up my mind right now. I was never really a fan of the—" I put up air quotations. "Enhancement wave. I always thought we should appreciate what God gave us, end of discussion. —But I can see what you're saying. Just don't go too far with it, to where it doesn't look natural."

"Right." She smiled. She was about to continue speaking on the subject, but our steaks came out, hot and sizzling. We held hands, and she said the grace, then ate.

"What were you about to say?" I wanted her to continue.

"I was adding to what you were saying about wanting it to look natural. —-Which is where the doctor-patient morality comes in to play."

I nodded.

"So that's the story, but my dad did influence me at an early age. I admired how passionate he was growing up as a doctor. He taught me so much. That was our thing. —What about you and your claim to fame?" She smirked, making us both laugh.

"I'm not claiming fame. That's not me. I promise you that's not my life."

"How can you not, though? It's so much of a part of your life." She looked around surveying the room. "Take this, for example; you had to shut down an entire restaurant and have a driver come get me. Your every move is watched. They have all these huge windows in here covered with long massive gold curtains. I'm pretty sure there is paparazzi outside waiting. You live in the city of fame, where everybody is trying to get noticed. I get you might not like all of it but, can you really say you don't feel like you're famous?"

I exhaled, leaning back in my seat. "I mean that I try to stay as low key and out of the way as possible. I have my fun on the court, and I'm passionate about what I do, so sometimes I act out. The media, they eat that up. Everything I do is for my family and the fans. I have goals I'm trying to reach. I don't do this for fame."

She nodded. We then had a moment where we locked eyes. Both of us smiled; neither looked away. She's confident. This woman is beautiful. That's crazy I was talking about my standards to Marcel and from what I can tell so far, she has everything on the list. I know its a little premature to say right now, but I can't help but think about my long list.

I figured now was the time to ask her the golden question. "You're; smart, beautiful, family-oriented, a believer in God, can cook, ambitious, funny, not uptight and easy to talk to. —Why are you single, and why did your ex let you get away?"

She slightly frowned breaking eye contact with me finally, staring down at her plate.

I waited a moment to see if she was going to speak. She didn't. "You don't have to answer that. This is date one. We can keep it light. —I'm enjoying my time with you."

A smile slowly grew on her face. "So this is a date? I thought this was us hanging out, getting to know each other."

"I'm hoping it could be a date. I'm feeling this vibe. I would also love to see you again. Maybe before I head to Houston." I contorted my face, being hopeful.

"How would that work? You're going to clear out another restaurant or something?" She continued smiling.

"No." I paused, trying to come up with something. "I'm thinking maybe you come to my game tomorrow night. That way, I can see you before I leave for my next three away games in Texas. Then after I can meet you somewhere. We can continue this conversation or silently be in the same space; I like being around you."

"Aw, you want to see me again. —I like being around you too. Not in a weird fan crazed way either. You won't catch me stalking you or acting all crazy like I've heard some of your fans do. I like getting to know the real you aside from everything else." She stated, making me smile. She took a sip of her water.

"I might go to the game. I wouldn't be able to get there until maybe in the second quarter. I have to work. I'm also not a fan of traveling alone in public places like that. I'd bring my friend Charlotte with me. Maybe meet you after the game after I drop her off home." She added.

"That'll work."

"You have to win, don't have me out there cheering for you and you're playing mediocre basketball. I might have to teach you a thing or two." She joked, making us both laugh.

"That is right you said you played in college. I'm definitely not losing. Besides we have to keep up this little winning streak we're on. —I'll have Ben give you the tickets for you and your friend. He can bring them when he comes back to get us." I took out my phone and sent Ben a quick text.

"I was definitely going to get my ticket —but now I don't have to, so thank you. I appreciate it." She stated humorously.

"I would never invite you somewhere and have you pay. You, coming to my game even though you have a busy life is enough for me. So thank you." We both smiled again. The waiter came to check on us. I told him we were okay.

We laughed, making light jokes about basketball and some of the old nostalgic things we miss. —A perfect first date.

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