Chapter 8

A few days later, a young woman named Rachel DeSantos arrived at Buckhead Baptist Church gym and sat in the bleachers. Rachel was a 27-year-old woman with straight long, light brown hair, full lips, and bright brown eyes that added to her engaging presence. She maintained a fit and athletic physique, and consistently exuded confidence and professionalism while still maintaining an approachable vibe.

Rachel stepped into the gym, the faint scent of polished wood and sweat filling the air. She relished the buzz of sneakers squeaking against the hardwood mixed with the rhythmic bounce of the basketball. She had just come from work, still dressed in a chic yet professional outfit, a fitted black blouse, slim beige slacks, and sleek nude-colored strappy stilettos. Her hair was still perfectly styled from her last on-camera segment. Sliding into the bleachers, she crossed her legs and leaned forward slightly, watching as Trevor’s rec basketball team warmed up.

Trevor Bauer, her boyfriend, was already on the court, going through a casual layup drill. He was a solid player, a lethal shooter with decent size. He had always played in these recreational leagues to stay in shape and because he genuinely enjoyed basketball. Rachel wasn’t exactly expecting NBA-level competition, but she still liked supporting Trevor. At least that was what she usually came to do, however, from the moment the game tipped off, her eyes landed on someone else.

He was on the opposing team. Tall. A sort of lighter-skinned black guy built like a natural athlete, but smooth with his movements. Rachel’s brows lifted slightly as she watched him get the ball on the wing, effortlessly shimmy past his defender with a clean spin move before pulling up for a jumper.

Swish Damn. That was nice.

Rachel leaned in, her interest piqued. The game continued, and it quickly became clear. This guy wasn’t just good. He was different. Fluid footwork. A polished offensive game. A natural rhythm to his movements. Confidence, but not cockiness. Rachel found herself completely locked in on him, watching his every move.

Who the hell was he?

Trevor was playing admirably, but his team was getting worked, mostly because they had no answer for the guy Rachel couldn’t stop watching. He was everywhere. Pull-up jumpers from midrange, smooth finishes at the rim, and crossovers that left defenders stumbling. He even played solid defense, mostly making life very difficult for whoever he guarded. Rachel bit the inside of her cheek, holding back a smile. Trevor had never mentioned this guy before, and judging by the way his team looked frustrated, she doubted they had played against him before.

She glanced down at her watch. Trevor’s team was down double digits. She should probably be more focused on supporting her boyfriend, but she wasn’t. Her eyes kept drifting back to the man dominating the game.

Who was he? More importantly though..., why did she suddenly want to find out?

After the game, Rachel and Trevor went to dinner together at Longhorn. They walked into Longhorn Steakhouse, the scent of sizzling steaks and freshly baked bread filling the air. It was late, and the restaurant wasn’t too crowded, which was fine by Rachel. She wasn’t in the mood for too much noise, not with her mind still turning. She and Trevor were seated in a cozy booth near the back. Trevor was still bitter about the game. He immediately launched into a rant about the game before their menus were even opened.

“Refs were terrible,” Trevor muttered as he picked up the menu. “Some of the worst calls I’ve seen in this league. They let them get away with so much contact.”

Rachel hummed, pretending to listen. She knew how this went. Every time he lost, he usually had a lot to say about the refs.

Trevor shook his head, flipping to the steak section. “And that number 12? He thinks he’s hot shit but let me guard him for a full game and I’ll shut that shit down.”

Rachel’s ears perked up slightly. Number 12. That was him.

She took a sip of her water, keeping her face neutral. “What team was that y’all were playing?”

Trevor barely looked up. “The Ballers. Pretty dumb name if you ask me.”

Rachel chuckled behind her glass. Yeah, okay, Mr. ‘Elite Hoopers’ isn’t much better. She set her cup down, casually adding, “Have you played them before?”

“Nah, they’re new to the league this year,” Trevor responded.

New. That explained why she had never seen him before. Rachel nodded, pretending to be interested in the menu while her thoughts kept circling. Asking Trevor anything else about the mystery player would be too obvious especially with how bitter he was. So, instead she would just find out herself.

Rachel secretly decided she would look up the league website. Maybe they had a roster list or some kind of team info. Then, heck, maybe she’d check social media. People loved posting highlights. Maybe she could find something. No matter how much she tried to ignore it though..., she wanted to know who he was, and more importantly, why she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

That night, Rachel lay in her bed, phone screen glowing in the darkness, her fingers idly scrolling through the Buckhead Recreational Sports website. She had told herself she was just checking the league schedule, but the moment she saw it: “The Ballers. Thursday, 8 PM”, her stomach did a small flip. Trevor’s team had no game that night, which meant she had no real reason to be there. Except for the fact that she wanted to be.

Rachel sighed, setting her phone down and rubbing her hands over her face.

“What am I doing?” She thought.

She had a boyfriend. A long-term one. Sure, Trevor wasn’t perfect. He could be a bit self-absorbed, a little whiny when things didn’t go his way, and could be predictable as hell, but he was good to her. This curiosity about this mystery player wasn’t safe. Rachel stared up at the ceiling, her mind at war with itself.

She didn’t even know this guy’s name. She had only seen him play for the first time tonight. Why did she care so much?

She groaned, rolling onto her side, frustrated. Deep down though, she already knew. It wasn’t just about basketball. It was about the way he carried himself, played so smoothly, and was so in control. It was the way he made her forget, for just a moment, that she was even there for Trevor.

Rachel grabbed her phone again, staring at the Thursday game listing. Would she really go just to watch, and see him one more time? Then, she sighed, locking her phone and tossing it onto the nightstand. She needed to sleep. She’d figure this out later.

On Thursday night, Rachel arrived at the gym right after the game between ‘the Ballers’ and their opponent tipped off. She slipped into the gym quietly, keeping her head down as she found a seat higher up in the bleachers. She had told herself all day that she wasn’t coming, but here she was.

Once she’d settled in and looked to the court, her eyes immediately found him. The mystery player. Tall, smooth, confident, and just as captivating as before. Rachel crossed her legs, feigning casual indifference, but the truth was she was locked in. Tonight, she wasn’t just watching, she was analyzing. His footwork was insanely polished. His ball control was smooth and efficient. His shooting form was excellent, and he was deadly from midrange. On top of that, his court awareness was next level for a rec league. He wasn’t just athletic. He was skilled. Rachel knew good basketball, and this guy was the real deal. She leaned forward slightly, watching as he got the ball on the wing, faked a drive, then smoothly stepped back into a jumper.

Swish Effortless.

Rachel’s lips parted slightly in admiration before she caught herself.

“Focus, Rachel.” She reminded herself internally.

Then ... It happened.

As he backpedaled down the court, his eyes suddenly lifted ... right to her. For a split second, Rachel froze. Her heart stopped and her stomach did an uncontrollable flip.

“Did he just...? No. No way. It was just a coincidence. Right?” She thought, her mind was racing.

Rachel quickly looked away, pretending to check her phone, but her pulse was racing too. Had he noticed her? Had he seen her last game too? Maybe she was just imagining things. She had no idea, but suddenly, sitting here felt a lot more dangerous and exposed. Rachel swallowed hard, forcing herself to stare at her phone screen like she hadn’t just made eye contact with the one player she was trying not to obsess over.

“It was just a coincidence. He wasn’t actually looking at me.” She kept telling herself in her head.

Rachel tried to refocus on the game, but now she was hyper-aware, and the more she watched ... the more she swore he kept glancing her way. She sat with perfect posture, legs crossed, trying to act completely casual, but every time he drained a smooth midrange jumper, sliced through defenders for a layup, or sank a deep three with effortless confidence his eyes flickered toward the bleachers. Toward her.

Rachel’s stomach tightened again. She pressed her fingers to her temple, willing herself to get it together. She had a boyfriend. She had no business sitting here feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush. Yet, the way this guy moved and played, she couldn’t look away. Her breath hitched slightly as he caught the ball, did a single head fake, and pulled up for another three-pointer.

Swish then just before he turned to run back down the court ... his eyes flickered up towards her again. Rachel’s lips parted.

Oh, God. This was bad.

About 40 minutes later, Rachel sat completely still as the final buzzer echoed through the gym. The Ballers had won easily. Not surprising, considering who was leading them. She forced herself to casually grab her purse, and start to walk down the bleachers, pretending to check her phone as the teams shook hands at center court. She could feel it though. There was a shift. A change in the air like someone was moving toward her. She didn’t dare look up, but she didn’t need to. Within seconds, a deep, smooth voice cut through the post-game noise.

“You enjoy the game?”

Rachel’s breath hitched. Slowly, she looked up, and there he was. Standing at the edge of the bleachers, looking directly at her, was him. The mystery player wearing Number 12. Up close, he was even more striking. Broad shoulders, skin the color of coffee with cream mixed in it, a clean fade, and a short beard that framed his strong jawline. Then there were his eyes. They were dark-brown-colored and had a deep, unreadable gaze that locked onto hers like he was already reading her thoughts.

Rachel’s pulse skyrocketed. For a second, she couldn’t speak.

Then she somehow managed to find her voice. “You played well.”

“Way to play it cool, Rachel.” She thought to herself.

A small grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “Appreciate that. Didn’t think I had any fans.”

Rachel bit the inside of her cheek, shifting slightly in her seat. “I was just ... checking out the competition.”

His grin widened just slightly. “Competition for who?”

Rachel froze. Damn. He was sharp. Now he was interested.

He watched her carefully, intrigued. He had definitely seen her at the last game, and she came back tonight. She wasn’t here by accident, and he wanted to know why.

“What’s your name?” He asked.

Rachel hesitated. This was a line. A step into something more dangerous, but as she looked into his eyes, feeling the pull she couldn’t explain ... she answered anyway.

“Rachel.”

He nodded, a satisfied expression crossing his face. “Nice to meet you, Rachel. I’m Jalen.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Now she had a name, and suddenly leaving felt impossible.

The moment Rachel had said her name, Jalen felt it. That feeling. The same warm pull that had stopped him in his tracks before. First with Sydney, then with Kristen, then Megan. Now again with this woman, Rachel. His stomach tightened.

No. No way. This wasn’t happening. Not here. Not now.

But it was, and deep down, he already knew. This Rachel woman was one of them. One of the eight women he was destined to conceive a child with.

Jalen blinked, forcing himself to stay calm.

Rachel tilted her head slightly. “You okay?”

Jalen cleared his throat, forcing a small smile. “Yeah. Just ... thinking.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Thinking about what?”

Jalen hesitated. What the hell was he supposed to say? “Thinking about how you’re apparently meant to have my child?” The thought sounded so absurd.

Yeah, no. Instead, he exhaled through his nose and shrugged lightly. “Just wondering why you’re really here.”

Rachel stiffened slightly but recovered fast. “I told you. Checking out the competition.”

Jalen smiled. “And yet, your man’s team wasn’t even playing tonight.”

Rachel’s stomach did a flip. Busted.

She looked away, exhaling a small laugh. “Maybe I just like basketball.”

Jalen’s gaze softened as he studied her. She was lying to herself. Maybe she didn’t even realize why she was drawn to him yet, but he did, and that changed everything.

He felt his pulse pounding. Rachel had a boyfriend. Jalen had seen her leave with him, whoever he was, the other night. Jalen could tell that she was already fighting whatever attraction she might have been feeling for him. Now he had to pretend like she wasn’t literally meant to be carrying his child someday. How the hell was he supposed to handle this? He needed to think and process this, but before he could say anything else, Rachel grabbed her purse again and turned towards the exit.

“I should go,” she said.

Jalen blinked, surprised. “You sure?”

Rachel hesitated, like she was second-guessing herself, but then, she nodded. “Yeah, but ... maybe I’ll see you around.”

Jalen didn’t move. He just watched her turn and head toward the exit, and as she walked away, he exhaled sharply.

Shit.

Rachel walked briskly out of the gym, making her way to her car. Her heart was still pounding. What the hell was that? She slid into the driver’s seat, closed the door, and gripped the steering wheel tightly. This is done. She wasn’t coming back. She wasn’t doing this. She had a boyfriend. Trevor was good and safe, and Jalen was dangerous.

Rachel got into her car. She took a slow, deep breath, staring at her own reflection in the rearview mirror. She barely knew him. It was just basketball curiosity. It didn’t mean anything.