Chapter 5 Opposite Sides Of The Spectrum
MALIK’S POV
It felt as though a hundred and one tiny men were trying to build a skyscraper in my head.
Instead of dropping the bottle of Jack Daniels that was the cause of the headache that was three seconds away from splitting my head open, I roamed around the corridor, somewhere far away from her until I found the perfect spot.
I dropped to my knees, turning to sit down. My back was pressed against the wall before I took another swig. My face contorted because of how bitter the liquor tasted. The liquor was usually sweet, but I wasn’t sure whether I got a back batch or the one I was drinking was simply expired. It was not like I cared anyways.
Still, I should not have been drinking since we had a game against the Oklahoma City Thunder–last season’s winner of the league. I was determined to take the crown from them and hand it to the Lakers. I was supposed to be fit.
I was not worried about the game. I was worried about the fact that Sloane had seen me in this state. This was a part of me that I allowed no one to see. Everyone was just supposed to see Malik when he was in his element–dunking on top shooters in the league, partying and trying to move to blondes.
No one was supposed to see me like this. Not even Sloane.
Thinking about it, I took another swig. When it hit the back of my throat, I choked, tears falling down my eyes in the process.
I stared at the beautiful picture of my mother on my phone screen for the umpteenth time and I began to shiver, hot tears falling down my cheeks.
This was the version of her that I used to know. A version I missed so dearly. She’d become a shell of her old self.
The emotions I was feeling did not get to simmer properly when I felt a presence walking up to where I sat.
I looked up, and found Sloane standing a few feet away from me, her eyes red and her cheeks wet with tears.
Okay, something had definitely happened between the period of me leaving the kitchen and her walking up to me in the corridor.
“Are you…” My voice choked in a sob, the words not making their way past my lips.
I was fucked up. Fucked up in ways that nobody would ever understand.
If my club thought that the best way to tame me was for them to bring some lady I didn’t know shit about to be my girlfriend, then that was on them, I was not going to be responsible for her emotional baggage.
She should have known from the onset what she was getting into.
Turning my face away from her, I took another swig from my Jack Daniel's. I should probably stop.
“You smell like a drunkard, Malik.” She threw her arms across her chest, folding them before she came to stand in front of me like she was my mother.
“Hey, at least I’ve got something that doesn’t make me feel like shit.” I shrugged, my voice slurry.
I looked away from her, not having the balls to face her.
“You should let go of that bottle, Cross. It’s killing you.”
“And you, my dear librarian, should mind your own business. I think it will suit you better.”
I fully expected my words to send her away, but when she went down on her knees and scooted over to the empty spot right next to me, I was in awe.
She turned over to look at me, I held her gaze long enough to tell that she too was going through something. I would have asked, but I wanted her to see me as an asshole so that she could back out of this deal and leave me the fuck alone.
“Today has been such a shit day.” She muttered.
Instead of asking her why, I chugged down some content of the bottle before handing it to her.
Sloane stared at it for a while, shaking her head no.
“Well, that’s all I got, Sloane. If you came here, looking for therapy, you may have missed your steps. Over here, we handle our problems with alcohol. We don’t talk about them.” I shook my head.
Maybe Sloane was right and I was acting like an actual drunkard.
“I don’t drink to make myself feel better, Malik.” She stated, shaking her head once again.
“Well, bummer, Sloane because you are fake dating someone who does. Get with the program and have some or just let your problems consume you.” I shrugged.
She turned to stare at me, and I did the same. We held each other’s gazes for what felt like eternity before she stretched out her hand and I handed the bottle to her.
Dear librarian, welcome to the fucking club.
She stared at the rim of the bottle, looking at how my saliva coated it for a long time. I could see her contemplating on whether to have some or not.
“We kissed already, Sloane. There was already saliva exchange. Staring at it on the rim of the bottle wouldn’t magically change that.” I stated.
She shut her eyes before titling her head backwards and taking a sip. I could tell it burned her throat because of the way she coughed.
She was not used to stuff like this.
I watched her as she chugged some more of the liquor down.
In no time, the alcohol kicked and, and the both of us began to casually discuss like we were buddies and had known each other for years.
“You know, it’s how we’re two fucked up people, but we are fucked up on the opposite sides of the spectrum.” Sloane chipped in after it was quite obvious that she was wasted.
A laughter tore from my lips, and when I stared at her as she drank, that was when it dawned on me.
What the fuck are you doing, Malik?
Granted, I had chosen to live recklessly, but why did I have to bring her into this?
Sloane did not need protection from the fans, the club or anyone else. She needed protection from me.
Three more of these kinds of encounters and she was going to see me for the broken man I was.
I grabbed the bottle from her hand immediately, her slender fingers brushing my fat ones.
“I wanna have more, Malik.” She frowned, pouting and reaching for it. I shook my head no.
Just then, my phone rang out loud, saving me from this interaction.
It was Brenda.
“What’s up?”
“I don’t know what’s going on in that mansion of yours, but you’ve missed two days of practice , Malik. Coach Lawson is pissed.”
“Brenda, I..”
“I don’t wanna hear it, Malik. Also, I think the honeymoon phase of this relationship is over. People need to know it’s real and not some fantasy. You remember the Kobe Bryant charity event you signed up for?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s next week, and since you now have a girlfriend, you both need to go dress shopping. After practice tomorrow, you’ll head to a designer store to help her shop for dresses. Paparazzi from top media companies will be there to take pictures. Both of you, look perfect.”