Morgan felt foolish. She nodded, giving Nish a halfhearted smile, before walking into the gym. When she saw Messiah on the court, her temperature rose even more. He was shirtless, revealing a large tattoo of praying hands that spanned across every muscle in his back and fused into the sleeve tattoo covering his entire, right shoulder and arm. Even his hands were covered in ink. Sweat made his body shine, as he worked his opponents on the court, not caring that he was scuffing the Retro Jordan’s that covered his feet. His groupies were out in full effect as the packed gym reacted to the three-point jump shot he had just put up. Morgan and Nish sat on the bottom bleacher closest to the court. When Messiah and his crew were on defense, he came running past them, his eyes falling on Morgan. It was like he picked her out of the crowd, instantly, as if his sole purpose was to find her. His eyes burned into hers and she looked away, completely pissed. She avoided looking at the court the entire game.

“Yo, baby girl, you in my seat.”

Morgan looked up at the handsome, six-foot, caramel-skinned man that stood in front of her. His Cartier shades, navy, Tigers baseball cap with the white ‘D’, and gold link chains that rested against his fitted, white V-neck, screamed Detroit. He had soft eyes with hard features, including three tear drop tattoos on the side of his face.

“I didn’t know there was assigned seating,” she shot back, as she raised an eyebrow in challenge. She, clearly, wasn’t moving.

He licked his lips and grabbed the edges of his cap, making her notice his tattooed forearms. He was her type, if she ever had a type, but she kept her face unaffected, not revealing her intrigue. She glanced back out onto the court, letting him know she wasn’t releasing the seat. Messiah was burning a hole through her, as he tried to assess the situation and keep his eye on the play. She could practically see the steam rising from him, when the guy bent down to whisper in her ear.

“Yo, beautiful, you gon’ make me stand or you gon’ share the seat? You’re more than welcome to sit on my lap and watch the rest of the game,” he said. Morgan stood.

“You can have your seat back,” she said. She felt his hands on her waist, as he pulled her down on top of him.

Her eyes were on Messiah, his eyes were on her, as he cut one hand across his neck, letting the other players on the court know the game was over.