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hearteyes-for-killmonger · 5 years

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Dedicated to @thadelightfulone . 🏈 This will have five parts. Disclaimer: Okay there was a big mistake in Cali geography from the last part but I'm getting it together.. 😂 Word Count: 3,388

Cute and chubby reader lives her life through books. Erik lives his life on the field. Can they meet in the middle to make it work?

Part 2: Training Season

“HUT.. HUT.. HUT!” Erik grunted loudly, his cheeks puffing as he squatted low before standing with the 80lb Eleiko weighted spiderbar rested on his broad shoulders over and over in a consistent motion using pure quad and core strength.

“You got it. Right there! Right there! Come on,” Travis guided as Erik fought vigilantly through the burn in his muscles.

“AN-,” he panted coming up again with all his might, “ANSWER THAT,” he barked, breathless. His phone was ringing from next to his yellow Gatorade bottle. “Before it goes to voicemail,” he grunted almost to the end of his spider bar squats. He’d already run four miles. His phone was laying right there on top of his gym bag. Travis, his trainer, just had to move his ass and run to it instead of speed walking. “FASTER nigga,” Erik yelled, resting in a standing position with his squat reps completed. “If I’m working this hard, you can run for five seconds.” He almost missed the call, but Travis picked it up in time.

“He’s training. Who is this?… Who?… It’s a Y/N,” he yelled.

“Tell her to hold on while you take these weights down,” Erik grunted allowing Travis to properly remove the weights as requested. He’d dropped the bar with a loud thud once and Travis ain’t appreciate that, angrily telling him how much the equipment cost. Since then, Erik made it a point to respect the property of the training center. Just because he could afford to replace the bars many times over didn't mean he planned to waste his money like that.

“Hand me the phone,” Erik waved, swallowing the gulp of his Gatorade before putting the phone to his ear. “Y/N… Y/N,” he turned the name over as if he were trying to recall where he’d heard it. “Doesn’t ring a bell. Jog my memory.” Travis threw him a towel to wipe his face and neck with. Sweat was collecting on his brow. Of course he knew who she was. The number on the iPhone screen was the number he’d studied to the point of memorization after Savrina wrote it down for him.

“You early coming on this side, bro. You heading on over to Napa or flying back to LA,” Erik asked Sean, who’d made himself at home and was playing Dead or Alive 6 on the xbox. Sean had popped up on him accompanied by one of his favorite bitches, without warning. They both almost got shot at the door. “Fuck is yo problem,” Erik snapped at Savrina. She’d been looking at him all stupid since she walked in. He thought they were cool.

“You ain’t that cute,” she frowned rolling her neck seemingly unprovoked, looking him up and down. Sean snickered with a wide grin enjoying the drama and Erik kissed his teeth, his lip curling in irritation.

“Like I give a damn. Let me be ugly ‘cause you ain’t my type either.”

“What IS your type? No really, enlighten me because I thought you were a man of substance? You think you just about to ghost my friend like nothing?”

“Well maybe she was ugly. My man, Erik, picky ‘bout bitches,” Sean yelled out. Savrina ignored him with a deep eyeroll. She ain't really like Sean, Erik could tell.

“You can’t even respond to a fucking DM to say you aren’t interested. Five seconds from your day. Five. Fuck you. She don’t need this shit, she better than you. And here I thought you’d be the one to have some sense but–”

“DM.. what DM,” he waved cutting her off. He had to stop her because her finger was going crazy and she was about to go a mile per minute, he could feel her words rushing to spill out together all at once.

“The DM she sent you, don’t fucking… act like… Wait. Did you really not get it?” He shrugged as she cocked her head to the side in thought. “This changes everything. Check your DM’s real quick. Check it!”

“Okay, shit.. No DM. I don’t know who she think she messaged, it wasn’t me.”

“You got two IG pages,” Sean reminded Erik. He hadn’t even been thinking about that.

“I got the password to that shit somewhere.. If it wasn’t a fan page, she must’ve DM’d the page ran by my publicist. I don’t even use it that’s why it only follows three people.”

“Aww.. I’m sorry I called you unattractive, boo. You’re really cute! I was just mad. I get overprotective,” Savrina grinned causing him to stare through lowered brows, unconvinced. “Since this whole thing was a big misunderstanding, can I give you her number and have you call her to let her know what’s what?” She wrote it as she spoke on the corner of a page she ripped from the sports magazine on his end table, before he could answer. Typically, he’d raise hell but since she was writing digits, he let it slide.

“Does your friend know you be giving out her number? Last I checked, she wasn’t checking for a nigga.. at all.”

“You know how it is with the real ones, Erik, it takes some vigilance. Some time. She’s cautious. She’s not going to jump and bussit for the first rich prettyboy who gives her attention or flashes a card.” He narrowed his eyes looking back and forth from her to Sean who was still engulfed in the game and she rolled her eyes, a cue for him to keep his mouth shut and mind his business. “Give her another chance. If she shits on it this time, I’ll kick her ass myself.”

“You tell her scary ass to call ME. Otherwise, I’m busy,” he said typing his number in her phone and balling up the paper number to throw in the wastebasket across the room. Savrina twisted her nose in an irritated frown. “She'll call and we'll go from there.. or she won't and we'll move on,” he nodded firmly. That was his final word. He hopped on the game with Sean and the couple spent the night in his spare room having loud sex through the night. It was around 4 AM when Erik crept silently back to the wastebasket to retrieve that wrinkled triangle of paper. He looked at it, reciting the number in his head over and over before shoving it in the pocket of his joggers.

“Y/N from the pool party in LA a while back? We hung out for a bit.. I got your number from Savrina?” The fact that she really thought he didn't remember tickled him. What kind of life did she think he lived to forget shit like that? He was a pro athlete not a xanax rapper.

“I remember,” he said throwing her a bone.

“Hey look, um,” she paused as if she still wasn't sure in her mind what she wanted. Spit it out, he thought. “I don’t know if you’re still interested or–” Or? Sitting down on the weight bench, he waited patiently for her to speak. “Basically, I was wondering if you wanted to meet and hang out or something. I think.. no, I know that I judged you too soon and I want to apologize formally for that.” He waited to see if she was done, listening to the silence over the line and pinching his nasal bridge.

“You just apologized. What you need to meet me for, to do it again?” He scoffed rubbing the lines smooth and flat on his forehead. “Hang out. You wanna hang out with me? Are we fifteen? I’m looking for something real, something permanent. I need to be able to call on you 2 AM. Ain’t no casual hanging out for me.” He waited listening for what she had to say. Nothing. “If you in, you all the way or don’t waste my time.” The silence stretched on further on her end. “Call me back when you figure yourself out,” he said hanging up.

Travis smirked playfully. “You done with The Young and the Restless?”

“Why you up on my dick? Get the weights on, nigga,” Erik chuckled. Travis put the weights on the bar and positioned himself to spot, signaling for Erik to lay back into position and begin lifting.

—

Did he just call me out for being a fuckboy? Incredulous, you stare at the phone in your hand. 2 AM? Nigga. I’ve got a job and a life with no one to step in and live it for me. I’m not picking up at 2 AM to fly to your city at the drop of a hat on ANY day. I don’t care how fine you are. You push the trolly of books down an aisle to organize them on the shelves in their proper places based on the decimal numbers on their spines.

You’re both two busy people in different cities and both of your lives and careers are important. In fact, you're in the process of picking up a second job in editing. You're already dabbling and you don't plan to stop any of what you're doing to set yourself back in any way. What type of Ja Rule 'Always On Time’ relationship does he expect? It gets you thinking. Could you really go all in for a man who you barely even know? Should you? Your full attention, access to your every hour (waking and non), and all of your energy. Can you afford to give that up? Nah. No. Your free time, you can give. Sacrificing, however? Tuh. In the memory of the late great Eartha Kitt, you whisper, “Compromise? What is compromising? Compromising for what? Compromising for what reason? To compromise? FOR WHAT?” Snickering in your own world, you push the trolly to the next aisle to reshelf a few more. Law books and code books. “Stupid.. A man comes into MY life and I have to compromise? You must think about that one again,” you mumble trying not to make too much sound. Eartha had it right. When the books are reshelved, you return to the circulation desk. No one seems to need assistance at the moment so you type out a series of messages in the group chat detailing what happened with the phone call.

Max: Well that's one way to lose a guy. Kate Hudson should've called you.

Danica: No comment

Danica: Actually, I do have a comment. You're weighing the cons with no consideration of the pros. Think on that.

Max: No, no, let her date Brock the Princeton jock with no cultural integrity. Maybe she'll be happy.

Y/N: Oh no, I don't do white boys. No matter how nice a white boy seems, he's always an argument or three words away from calling you a nigger. I refuse.

Savrina: I will wring your thick ass neck if you don't call him back. What more do you want? Are you dumb?

Max: *eats popcorn*

Y/N: Suck a dick and get off mine. I'm trying to think this through instead of investing myself into a relationship that's a waste of time.

Danica: Just think about it. That's all we're saying.

Leaving the chat, you grab your bottle of water and take a long swig looking up to see people walking to and fro. Sometimes the library is extremely busy and other times it's pretty much dead. You decide to use the break to reconsider and think about the pros. What were the pros of dating an NFL player? Money? Clout? That's about it. That's all you could think of, a sugar daddy situation only Erik is young and cute.. and he smells good.. surprisingly. You reopen the chat briefly ignoring the string of choice words from Savrina.

Danica: No one's asking you to give up yourself or your life, just live a little. You're too safe.

Too safe? Is there really a such thing? The idea sends you down a spiral of thoughts. What makes a thing or a person worth the risk of losing your time and energy, both things you cannot get back? When you Google the question, a quote pops up and arrests you. “‘It’s impossible’, said pride. ‘It’s risky’, said experience. ‘It’s pointless’, said reason. ‘Give it a try’, whispered the heart.”

You pull up Erik's number, your finger hovering over the call button. If you're honest, you do want to know him. You want to sit and talk with him and figure out what you have in common. You're interested and you can't lie about that, but you have to be sure. You don't want to waste your time or his.

With a deep sigh, you determine in your mind that this is worth the risk of it not working out. You call the number back and it rings going to voicemail, but then he calls back almost immediately.

“I’m still training,” he blurts and you can hear the clinking of what sounds like weights in the background.

“I’ll make this brief. I’m interested in you. What now?”

“What’s your cashapp?” Just like that. You tell him and he goes silent for a few seconds. “Sent. Come to Oakland. I’ll text you the address.”

Hanging up, you check your cashapp. $200 added. You decide on Saturday. You’ll leave from Inglewood on a 1 hour 20 minute flight to Oakland and come back the next day, Sunday. It works for your schedule. It’s gonna have to work for his. You send a text letting him know when you’ll be there before messaging the group chat to let them know you booked the date. Like a game of telephone, it’s minutes before your entire circle knows and the chat is blinging.

Saturday is the day where you go through airport security and board the plane to Oakland, unsure of what awaits you. You're happy to fly because you surely weren't driving. Looking at the clouds through the window and reading through the book in document form you've been trusted to proof and edit occupies you until the plane lands and you head to the airport exit to find a taxi, almost missing the big sign with your name on it. A black boy who looks like he just graduated high school is holding it high and tossing it, making it dance in the air. He makes eye contact, walking hesitantly toward you. "Ms. Y/N," he asks leaning forward and when you confirm, he looks so happy. "Erik gave me a description and I was hoping I didn't miss you. I'm Devon," he smiles shaking your hand. "This it?" He grabs your shoulder bag from your arm. "Aw man, you must not plan on staying. That's too bad, training season is lit! How was your flight? Where are you coming from?" He continues with the small talk as he leads you to a shiny black range rover, opening the passenger door for you and putting your bag in the back. He turns the key in the ignition and some lively song you've never heard plays over the speaker. "I don't think he knows you're leaving so soon. He said bring you to his place and then you'll head to the training center."

"How far is his house from the training center?"

"Oh don't worry, it's like 30 minutes," he says catching the concern in your tone. It's still very early, only 7:45 AM, but still you plan to leave on time tomorrow to make your 6 AM flight back to Inglewood.

Erik's house is fairly large. When he opens the door, he's just as fine as you remember and even taller it seems. "Oh, ok..," you smile, eyes widening anxiously as he wraps his muscular arms firmly around your thick waist, his face grazing your hair. He's shirtless and barefoot in grey sweatpants, scarred and defined abs and chest out and proud. He smells like soap and you know he's fresh out the shower.

"What you mean oh, ok," he smiles pulling back.

"I mean oh, ok... You have a nice place," you say nodding casually as you look around at everything but him. You feel anything but casual.

"But you said it when I hugged you, not when you made your arrival. Don't tell me you shy! You bitchin up on me?" Your eyes dart to his and he smirks. "Bruh we gone stand out here or you coming inside?" Kissing your teeth you push past him.

"You have a maid?" You inquire because the place is far too neat for a single young male athlete. The interior is nice with white walls and contemporary decor.

"Nope.. Against popular belief, we aren't all dirty animals living waist deep in our own filth."

You grimace. "I stuck my foot in my mouth again." Turning to look Erik in the eye, you try your best to communicate nonverbally that you had no malicious intent.

"You alright? ...Or you still under the spell of my good looks," he teases and you roll your eyes. He's just fine.

"You're not that cute," you lie with a teasing smile that betrays your actual thoughts. He nods.

"That seems to be the popular opinion nowadays. Your friend said the same thing. Fuck you, she don't need this shit," He mocks playfully in a high voice copying her gestures and you laugh because that's Savrina. He's got her down perfectly with the finger pointing all crazy. "This is you," he says catching your attention with a small gesture like he's about to act a scene. "Um.. Hi? Um.. D-Do you remember me? From, um, LA?" His immitation is quiet and meek and he shrinks his massive body hunching over to look small. You walk up to slap his arm.

"I do not sound like that!"

"Not now," his chest bounces, "But on the phone.. like I wouldn't remember you. How could I forget you? You told me off, almost made me kill my teammate, and turned me down all in the same day. You dangerous as hell. Then you got me cussed out like I ain't a child of God." That makes you weak and you fall over yourself giggling, your finger in the air begging for a moment to recover.

"In Savrina's defense, she does get protective and she's very stubborn, but it comes from a good place.. speaking of, do you have any food because I'm famished. I haven't eaten breakfast yet."

"You ain't e- DEVON," Erik calls, "Why you ain't feed my woman?" The boy pops up from a different room and you realize you didn't even feel him pass you to enter the house.

"My bad E, I ain't know she was hungry," he calls back and Erik folds a bill in his hand before he's out the door. "Bye Ms. Y/N," he grins passing you and the door closes behind him.

"Mhm," Erik hums like he's watching Devon. "Good kid. He's finna start college in a bit, but until then..," Erik shrugs.

"You pay him to do odd jobs, help him earn a little money," you smile putting two and two together. He nods and you can tell he's not comfortable with elaborating so you drop it. "I'm hungry," you remind him to change the subject and he jumps to lead you into the kitchen.

"Have a seat and watch ya boy work," he points to a tall chair at the kitchen island. You're about to get the inside scoop on what I eat on a training day."

He goes to work cooking a high protein meal while his body moves and flexes filling you with a completely different type of hunger. He whips out the turkey bacon and eggs and you watch, thoroughly entertained by his off the wall commentary and artistic flare. He's definitely trying to impress you with his cooking techniques and it gives you a genuine smile. In a moment when he's just cooking and things are quiet, it's not awkward. It's just peaceful. You chuckle and he looks back at you to read your expression. "Nothing," you smile in answer to his unvoiced question. He raises a brow but lets it go. You'd tell him the truth, that you're just really happy you came and glad you took a chance but you don't want to sound corny so you just rest your hand over your mouth to cover the smile that won't be smothered and you continue watching his back as he cooks the both of you breakfast.

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