Read Preseason Love for Free Online Page B

and carefree. We were walking down the sidewalk pointing out silly observations and giggling when I suggested we hail a yellow cab.As the cabby sped off, Dev and I flew back in our seats trying to ramble off our destination. The cabby was driving like he was in the Indy 500. “Can we please make it to our destination alive?” I whispered to Dev.
    No sooner than the words left my lips our cab swerved. The sound of tires screeching rang out. Our driver had cut off another yellow cab. Thankfully the other driver had reacted quickly to avoid smashing into us. The profanities and yelling started almost instantaneously—right after the radical horn blowing.
    The driver that our cabby cut off was now on the side of us, my side to be exact, and he was furious. He looked like a sixty-year-old grandfather that should not be cursing like a lunatic. He rolled down his window and started screaming at our driver in a language that I could not understand. There was only one word that I did recognize: “Motherfucker!”
    They are making me lose my buzz.
    Our driver yelled back. He had some nerve, considering that it was his fault.
    Suddenly we felt our cab shift erratically to the right and “BOOM!” Our driver smashed up against the other cab and swiped his side mirror off. Fragments of mirrored glass and yellow plastic went flying.
    â€œWhat the hell is wrong with you?!” Dev shouted. “Stop this damn cab right now and let us out!”
    â€œYou must have lost your damn mind!” I chimed in.
    â€œBut…miss…did you see him? I apologize, miss. I apologize,” the driver pleaded.
    â€œOh no, it’s way too late for that!” Dev shouted.
    We jumped out of the cab, slamming the door behind us. If that reject thought that he would get a single cent from us, he wassadly mistaken. Like Thelma and Louise, we walked away from the scene of the crime and never looked back. We let the cabby’s fussing and yelling fade in the distance.
    That debacle was almost enough to stop our fun for the night. But we were getting used to the crazy happenings in the New York streets. Instead of going home, we quickened our strides with the frigid winter air whipping against our cheeks. Our destination was only a few blocks away at an underground spot Dev’s hairdresser had told her about. Questlove of The Roots was DJing.
    New York was known for having its hidden gems, so we giddily walked down an unassuming street on the Lower East Side looking for a red door. When we walked up to the mystery door, Dev tugged at the handle with a bit of hesitation. We crossed the threshold and it was as if we had entered a different world. Black velvet lined the walls and a “barely there” light fixture gave the doorman just enough glow to check our IDs. After he signaled the thumbs-up, we hit the stairs heading down into the abyss. The spot was small and crazy crowded, but the scene was dope, and the secret underground feeling gave me a rush.
    Casually pushing my way through the crowd, I spotted a tall, clean-cut Idris Elba look-alike heading in my direction. He looked fly so naturally I wanted to see how he moved. I posted up on the wall and watched him work.
    He walked through the room with a sense of confidence that I was definitely digging. I saw him speak to a few people, both male and female, but it was obvious that he was rolling solo. Showed independence, I liked that. Never one to seem pressed, I inadvertently glanced in his direction. Not to my surprise, he was looking in my direction as well. I was standing next to an oversizedgold Buddha—don’t ask—and we caught eyes. Of course, this was not a love-at-first-sight type of situation, but he had my attention and I hoped that I had his. In any event, I would not be a fool again and walk up to some strange man in a club thinking that he was looking in my direction.
    Dev and I grabbed drinks and mingled throughout the scene. I met