The night spent wrapped in Eli's arms, his strong corded muscles cocooning me in our own little world that protected us from everything we were bound to face come morning light, I awoke to a budding pit that stretched out in my stomach.

Gnawing and ugly, the nervous anxiety peeled back the calm and serene peacefulness that came with the memories the night before had created.

Laughing, kissing, chasing after each other to see who could make it to his car first, our worlds collided and met together in a blaze that we chased to his dorm room which was thankfully empty (I was starting to wonder if Eli had bought his roommates a hotel room so we'd have privacy) and his kisses melted the rest of the world around of me until the line we hadn't crossed became blurred and we decided to stop yet again, his heated ministrations with his hands on my body slowing until turning me around to tug me against his chest.

But still, the cold morning light bathed in grey hues by the gauzy swath of curtains covering Eli's windows washed the euphoric tint to the night, the curl and dip of anticipation that his skin upon mine brought forth in my mind.

Because it was game day, Eli was forced to wake at dawn and do a kind of ritualistic pre game custom of spending the entire day with the team, which meant that I also had to wake up with him and gather my wits about me before facing my roommates and try to explain why my phone was off, my car reported stolen, and why my family had come in guns blazing the day before.

There was very little room or time to explain when my dad had hijacked my day not even twenty four hours prior.

Oh yeah, and the fact that I hadn't slept in my own bed for two nights in a row. I couldn't wait for that grilling.

"Are you going to be okay today? Will you have Bea and Hazel with you?"

"I'll be fine. They said they were going to the game a few days ago anyway, so it's not like I'll have to convince them. Will I get to see you before you go into game mode?"

I knew enough about my father's damn near religious pre game ritual before the accident than to mess with Eli's, I definitely didn't want to throw him off his game when they were playing against their rival, something Maddie couldn't shut up about when we had actually been working together at the same time before the big blow up.

"I'll probably be able to see you in the box right before we dress out, your dad wanted to introduce me to some higher ups..." he trailed off, a pained expression clouding his face as realized what kind of position that would put me in.

"You're not going to be sitting in his box, are you? The entire game?"

"I don't think I'll be able to handle five minutes of him in that box, I just hope the press aren't camped outside of it like they used to be when I was younger and would go to his games, but this isn't NBA level, so I doubt they would be. Right?"

Guilt flashed across his face as he pulled a t-shirt over his head, muscles flexing in his stomach as he did so and I had to momentarily remind myself to focus on the conversation and not his physique.

"Well, your dad did say he was inviting some of his old teammates, some that are still active in the pros. He even said something about Johnson Price..."

"Johnson fucking Price?! Might as well announce that Michael Jordan will be attending with a big red flashing sign! The media will be there the second he gets there!"

"I know. But it will be fine," he started, walking towards me, arms on my shoulders as if that would reassure me that it would actually be fine, when all I felt was the weight of the world coming to crash down on top of me.

"You will get through this without letting your dad find out what you know. You will get your songs back from him and then you never have to see him again if you don't want to- that's the best part about being an adult. I just wish it was that way with my family, but I have Elodie to think about. When she turns eighteen, though, I'll grab my sister and take her as far away from that man as possible, if she wants to go with me. You have so many options, and he can't take those away from you."

I leaned my head forward against his chest, his hand coming up to cradle my head against him while I steadied my heart and prepared myself for the mental battle ahead. I could do it, fool him one last time, get him to give me my recording equipment and songs back, and then I could figure everything else out from there.

One step, one day, one moment at a time.

***

Basketball fans did not mess around. A man without a shirt on covered in purple and golden yellow paint ran by me with a trail of his fraternity brothers, each of them wearing hats with viking-esque horns decorating them and chanting while misplacing each and every person they stampeded by.

They were followed by sorority girls in tight skirts, short shorts, tank tops and perfectly coiffed hair decorated in their respective team's colors. Purple and gold for UCM, and red and white for Heisinger, our 'rival' though I was pretty sure it was only because they were the only D1 school within one hundred miles of ours that had any chance at competing with our team.

Our school did spit out NBA draft picks like prized thoroughbreds, after all.

The stadium was buzzing, and yes, I did say stadium, because no longer were we in the medium sized gym where I worked. Instead, we were crammed like sardines into one of the largest college basketball stadiums in Miami, located a mere five miles from our campus.

Because of the sheer size of fans from both schools, there had to be a compromise for this 'charity' game. It was more like an unofficial seasonal game judging by the diehards preparing to watch the teams rip each other to shreds.

Bea and Hazel, both dressed in purple UCM t-shirts and shorts, held me captive with their arms linked through mine while I had a mini panic attack.

We were next in line for the VIP section cordoned off to the rest of the guests in the tunnel that held various stands for concessions and team garb. Our lanyards swinging around our necks courtesy of the one and only Mike Bruins which had effectively been delivered to our doors before I'd even arrived back from Eli's, a lump the size of Texas had appeared in my throat.

There were already a few dozen photographers camped out around the area sectioned off by black rope, and I knew it had everything to do with my father and Johnson Price. The basketball player was in his late thirties and still in his prime, the seven footer already a household name like Shaq or Michael Jordan, and consequently, besties with my dad.

He was probably returning a favor by attending the game, that or he just felt sorry for my dad, but either way, his presence had me near doubling over and throwing up everything I'd eaten that day, which was precisely two saltine crackers and a Honey Bun.

Dressed in tight black jeans, a satin purple tank and a black leather jacket atop it, I had opted more dressy casual for the game while doing my hair in curled ringlets that stayed by the power of a four hundred degree wand and three pounds of hairspray, makeup expertly applied by the magical hands of Bea herself.

Ever the studious and illustrious daughter that my father had always wanted, I was prepared to gush over the legendary basketball player awaiting us in our box by quoting his stats that had been spoon-fed to me nearly since birth.

Upon waving my VIP badge to the man behind the rope who had said my name aloud, loud enough for everyone in our general vicinity to get a good earful, however, head turned, then necks snapped.

"Virginia Bruins? Are you here with your dad, Mike Bruins? How is your dad doing, after all this time? Is he getting into coaching college, is that why you're here? Do you attend school at UCM?"

Rapid fire questions, all from the same gangly and wide eyed reporter, and I was already tired of the day.

"V? Since when are you famous?"

"You knew who my dad was, Bea," I told her jokingly, meandering inside the VIP area with my two girls following beside me.

"We knew, but we didn't know it was like that..."

I eyed Hazel as she shyly dipped her head from the ground and back up to meet my eyes.

"Hey, if you're uncomfortable, you don't have to sit up here with me. It's totally okay if-"

"No! No, it's fine. I was just...scared of the attention, that's all."

"Okay..." I trailed off, not thoroughly convinced by Hazel's quick explanation especially considering we performed in public, but brushed it off, especially since she plastered on a blinding smile to drive it home.

And then there was Eli, shining brighter than every other player milling about and networking, ensconced in a black suit, unbuttoned, with a decorative dress shirt underneath.

I knew what was underneath the shirt, however, and when his eyes found mine, there was no other place for my feet to take me than directly to his side.

"Hello ladies. Virginia," Eli said formally, leaning down to brush a quick and whisper soft kiss to my cheek while I eased my arms out of my friend's grip, leaning into Eli and inhaling his decadent cologne that always seemed to clog every sense I ever thought I had.

"Eli, I thought we got here right on time, V was rushing us and everything," Bea interrupted us, her chocolate eyes trailing up and down the two of us with suspicion.

"Don't kill me, but we might be an hour and a half early. The guys have to dress out in thirty minutes, but-"

"But she wanted to see me before, and I know she didn't want to come alone. It's my fault, really."

"Mhmm," Bea replied to Eli, giving him the side-eye while also simultaneously smirking as she waved her finger between the two of us.

"You better not mess with our girl, we know where you live, player."

I coughed out masking my laugh, but there was a lightness in Eli's eyes that told me he didn't take offense to what she'd said.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

He looked down into my eyes, our stares lingering upon each other and it was just like the first time we'd set eyes upon each other all that time ago in the gym, across the courts and still I couldn't look away, or just flat out didn't want to.

Grass fields swaying and a whisper of dandelions danced in his eyes, the green darkening under the lights of cameras that were suddenly more abundant, the clicks and shutters of lenses opening and closing becoming more apparent, but still, we couldn't look away.

Time came grinding to a screeching halt as one hand found my hip, his palm a searing inferno of touch as the world fell away, the loud raucous noise fading into the background while the roaring of blood pumping through my veins took precedence, my heartbeat a palpitating staccato drum of my need and desire for this darkly handsome and impossibly real man before me.

Dark strands of his mocha coffee hair fell into charcoal lashes lining those olive eyes and as I reached up to brush them away, a throat cleared behind us, rather loudly, the sound so jarring it was enough to yank me out of our own little world and send me tumbling down, down, and out of our perfectly shared reality where no one existed but the two of us and damn if I didn't want to just stay there forever.

"I should hope not, son, because I seem to recall you telling me that you were going to be swearing off girls back again at school, and here you are with Mike Bruins' daughter? Talk about a change of pace, not like I'm complaining. It's an honor to meet you, Miss Bruins. I wish I could say Eli has told me much about you, but we aren't really talking much here lately, are we, boy?"

On the word 'boy', Eli jumped by my side, his body turning as rigid as steel yet fragile as glass as I suddenly realized just who was speaking to us.

To the side of Bea and Hazel, a shorter, squat man with sandy salt and pepper hair and a fully grown beard stood beside an achingly beautiful woman with dark brown hair, the exact shade of Eli's. Her eyes were a lighter shade of green, face unblemished by time or scars, and there was a wistful sadness reflected back to me as I took her in, hand squeezed white while being held in her husband's.

Eli's mother, and the stepfather that had abused him, stood before us dressed in their best formal attire, and the man had enough gall to confront him right before a game.

Just before I stood in front of Eli and took over the conversation, however, a young girl that couldn't have been more than thirteen years old came through the side, dressed in a pretty pale pink dress that reminded me of something I'd have worn to Sunday school at church.

The spitting image of a young Eli in girl form, she was absolutely beautiful, and adorable, and I knew immediately why Eli put up with the man. It was all for her.

"Are you Elodie?"

She nodded her head as a smile stretched her face, Eli's 'parents' watching the exchange vividly, noticing I hadn't returned his step father's sentiments or hellos.

"Eli can't stop talking about you. Do you want to go and get something to eat with us?"

"Um, yes! Eli, you didn't tell me your girlfriend was so cool!"

I didn't correct Elodie, but from the softened expression on Eli's face, I knew that using his sister as more of a buffer between him and the rest of his family would be the way to go for the rest of the night.

That is, until a loud guffawing laugh interrupted the rest of the conversations in the room. Cameras clicked, reporters shouted, and in strolled my family, flanked by some of the biggest names in basketball of all time.

The rest of the entourage had arrived, and I didn't know if it was the fact that every single person in attendance bought my father's lie about the night my mother died and who her killer was, or the fact that he was trying to keep me under lock and key and control every aspect of my life, but one thing I knew for deathly certain.

This night was not going to go well. For him.