One Shot 1
I’m trying this one shot thing out. Please let your full wrath out on me, for I am rusty and could use criticism. Thank you friends and sorry for being MIA!
The sweet scent of cream and sugar stood like a wall at the door of the shop, an almost immediate change from the mixture of salty air and the slight stench that comes with a city as big as Los Angeles. The pink walls were a little overpowering, but made the place feel cheery and light, as an ice cream shop should. It was also way too crowded, but it is LA, after all. What else would be expected. People also kind of started flocking around us, too, as we moved into an closed space.
“Man, what do a couple a’ dudes gotta do to get some ice cream in peace,” DJ muttered goofily to me. I sniggered in response.
“Is that Blake Griffin?” a blonde woman whispered to her blonde friend. The friend nodded.
“That’s Blake Griffin and Deandre Jordan!” a teenaged boy said to his dad.
Look, I truly am grateful for the fans and all, but it does get old after a while. Especially when you remember the days when you could just exist without any extra attention in public places. Ah, youth.
The blondes ended up asking us for a photo, and we didn’t refuse them. I’m sure it would garner many likes on Instagram or Twitter or Facebook. Plus they were kinda cute. DJ was a little salty though, since he was taking the picture.
“One for me!” I said excitedly under my breath to him. We had this stupid game where we would see who would get asked for pictures the most when out like this. He rolled his eyes.
A middle-aged man asked DJ for a picture soon after, but then told him he was from Dallas and that he could show his family that he got a picture with the traitor. I couldn’t contain myself. A whole year later and people were still salty. I guess it did produce some good memes, though.
A few more photos were taken, and I was leading 4-3. We finally got to the register, and people stopped for now.
The cashier immediately recognized us. He looked like a college student.
“Oh my gosh, are you guys...?”
“...well, I am Blake Griffin,” I said with a little smile.
“And I am Deandre Jordan,” DJ chimed in.
“Oh my... could I just take a really quick picture? My brother won’t believe it...” he muttered to himself.
“Sure,” DJ replied. We awkwardly smiled as he took our photo.
“Thanks so much. What can I get you?”
“I’ll have a large cake batter,” I said.
“Large Rocky Road, please,” DJ said after.
We paid and the guy got us our ice cream and we were on our way back out the packed shop, trying to avoid the people pointing or oggling.
“When’s the last time we got ice cream anyways?” DJ asked through a fat scoop of Rocky Road.
“I can’t even remember, man,” I answered. Our strict diets kept us from eating stuff like this, so it was nice to splurge once in a while.
I was thinking about how much I friggin’ loved cake batter ice cream when I saw this girl.
Now you see, as NBA players, we have, er, an array of available women to choose from. And this array contains some of the most beautiful women in the whole wide world. Seriously, they’re gorgeous. We’re spoiled rotten in that department.
This girl looked nothing like a model. Well, I guess I shouldn’t say that - she was very, very pretty. She had a striking set of large, green eyes, full lips, and sunkissed skin. But she certainly was flawed; she had a roundish nose, some acne, and her hair was long, but kind of thin and scraggly.
Basically, she was a normal person. Except not totally normal, because even though she wasn’t perfect, I still found her to be incredibly attractive. She had long legs, but they were muscular. Her waist wasn’t tiny - she was wear a tight tnk top - but you could tell she was fit. And I can’t ignore it... she had a nice rack and a phat ass.
She was all by herself, on her phone, until she looked up at me. Her eyes went to DJ, then back to me. I knew she knew who we were - her face flushed and her eyes widened slightly.
I kept eye contact with her. She looked away after a bit, but she kept looking out of the corner of her eye.
I decided to flash a smirk, and then turned to DJ and whispered to him about her. DJ looked and agreed with me that she was quite a good-looking lady, but she wasn’t the Samantha Hoopes or whoever that chick was with the huge tits who said she wanted to get at me until I ha my stupid incident in January. DJ thought I missed a golden opportunity with her, but to be honest, she scared me a bit.
When I turned around, she was right next to me. “Excuse me, are you Blake Griffin and Deandre Jordan?” she asked with a mixture of discomfort and confidence.
“Yeah” DJ answered her through yet another scoop of ice cream. What manners he had!
“I’m so sorry, I know you guys get this all the time, but I am seriously the biggest Clippers fan ever, an do you think I could get a picture?” she rambled nervously.
“Yeah, absolutely,” I said with a grin. She asked the lady behind her to take it, and we put our arms around her and took it.
“Thank you so much,” she said, looking through them on her phone.
“No problem,” DJ said politely.
“Wait,” I said. DJ looked at me, slightly confused. “DO you mind me asking what your name is?”
She turned into a tomato. “Are you serious?” She finally said, with an anxious laugh.
“Yeah,” I replied bluntly. “I mean, if you don’t mind.”
“Blake,” DJ muttered, very quietly, but very sternly.
“Um, it’s Alex,” she said.
“So, Alex,” I said. “I know this is so abrupt and weird, but do you think I could get your number?”
She looked like I had turned into Bigfoot. “Wait, is this a joke?”
“Nope,” I said. DJ gave up with me and waited outside. She gave me her number and I joined him.
“Blake, you know not to fuck around with fan girls,” he said, without a hello or anything.
“D, I’m 27, I can handle myself, thank you.”
“Dude, we’ve both been there and agreed it is not worth those crazy girls. Not to mention, there are way hotter ones. I mean she’s cute, but you could easily fuck with an absolute dime if you’re gonna go for a fan girl.”
I ignored him. I didn’t give a fuck if she was a 10 to him or not. I thought she was very pretty. And this is going to sound ridiculous, but something about her made me want to know her. I can’t even put my finger on it. I just wanted to learn about her. Why was she alone? She could easily have a boyfriend, or friends, at least. She had a bruise on her knee, Where did she get it? What was her favorite food? Color? Place to travel to?
Her looks caught my eye, but something else caught a different kind of attention, and I couldn’t ignore it, because that does not happen often. I shot her a text immediately, hoping it was the right number.
