“How about Christina?” asked Anthony Morrow, pointing at the well-appointed cheerleader standing at the sideline.
“No, I don’t like Christina,” answered Enes Kanter, who was staring at the towel in his lap.
“You didn’t even look!” exclaimed Anthony. “She’s a ten out of ten in anybody’s book, and I’m sure she’s way hotter than Jessandra or whoever that old girlfriend of yours was.”
“HER NAME IS JESSECA!” shouted Enes, attracting a few startled looks from nearby players on the bench. “There is not a woman in this world more beautiful than her.”
“Okay, well how about Raylee?” Anthony asked, pointing at the cheerleader at the end of the line. “You have to admit, she is a fine looking woman.”
Enes gave a cursory glance in Raylee’s direction, then resumed his downward gaze. “Raylee looks like a wrinkled hag-witch when compared to Jesseca.”
Now Anthony was a little annoyed, and his voice showed it. “Come on Enes. I’ve seen the Jazz cheerleaders, and they were hot, no doubt about it, but they weren’t any hotter than the cheerleaders here in Oklahoma, or anywhere else for that matter.”
“Jesseca was not only beautiful on the outside, she was beautiful in here,” Enes said softly, pointing at his heart.
Anthony threw up his arms. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing! You’re saying that you liked Jessandra’s personality? Is that what you’re saying?”
Rolling his eyes, Anthony replied, “Okay, Jesseca, whatever. She was just some gold-digging bitch. She didn’t care about you, man. You have to give her up.”
“I’m done with this. I don’t need to hear you talk this way,” Enes said, standing up.
“Dude, coach isn’t going to like you just walking back to the locker room in the middle of the game,” Anthony pointed out.
“Don’t care,” Enes responded shortly. The tears that appeared whenever he thought about Jesseca were making their predictable entrance. As he sprinted back down the tunnel, to the surprised protestations of the assistant coaches, he let out a sob.
Nobody would ever replace his beloved, his one and only.