By chance basketball bae.., p.1
By Chance (Basketball Baes Book 2), page 1
By Chance
Tracy Gray
Copyright © 2023 Tracy Gray
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
ISBN-13: 978-1-7368016-3-5
Cover design by: IB Designz
Editing by: LRB1 Style! Editing Services
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309
Printed in the United States of America
Upcoming Event
Hey Readers!
Meet me in Detroit at Hustle & Grind on June 10, 2023 from 12pm-6pm.
I'll be meeting, greeting, signing and selling.
Hope to see you there!!
Keep In Mind
This book is intended for mature audiences. It contains profane language and situations of a sexual nature.
There are elements discussed in this book that could be triggering for some, such as the mention of abortion, gambling addiction and drug addiction.
Please make sure to take the proper precautions to maintain your optimal mental health, if you decide to read this book.
Thank you.
~ Tracy
From Tracy's Heart
Thank you for choosing "By Chance," the 2nd book in this new "Basketball Baes" series.
When Kirbie was introduced as Genesis' best friend in "Cross'd Up", I never expected her to become a leading lady. But these characters basically do what they want to do (LOL).
This book is a novella. If you're in the mood for a longer read, please pick up one of my full-length novels.
I hope you enjoy reading about Chance and Kirbie as much as I enjoyed writing them.
XOXO
~ Tracy
Prologue
* * *
Chance Parker loved having sex with bad bitches. The badder - the better. And the chick he was fucking at the moment, was bad as hell. With the way he’d grown up, bad bitches weren’t just out of his league…they were out of his stratosphere.
What chick with any type of self-respect, common sense, or dignity would’ve given 15 or 16 year old Chance some play? He was scruffy, mostly dirty, and unkempt. His clothes were always either too large, or too small. His shoe game was a joke. He had anger issues, and a bad attitude, to boot. Teenage Chance Parker only had two positive things going for him in life. The first was that he was smart as a whip. The second was that he was a beast with a basketball in his hands.
He was a sophomore in high school when he realized that sports were a place he could take his aggression out without being labeled, judged, or punished. He could push, pull, throw elbows, charge dudes - all of that, and it was called “good defense”, as opposed to violence. Chance was immediately enamored. Basketball soon became his…thing. The gymnasium at school became his second home, and his 10th grade P.E. teacher became his first coach.
Mr. Griffin wasn’t the school’s basketball coach. He actually coached boys swimming. But he took a shine (as Chance’s foster mother, Mama Jackie, would say) to Chance. He spent his free time working Chance out, while giving him tips and pointers about his new favorite game.
Even though he had come to the sport late, Chance was a natural. Soon, Mr. Griffin had taken him as far as he could. He didn’t dump Chance, as so many adults before him had done. Instead, Mr. Griffin purchased Chance a membership to the local Y.M.C.A.. Encouraging him to workout there, and participate in any pick-up games he could find. He also connected Chance to two of his former students, who were currently playing basketball at the collegiate level. The two young men were five years older than Chance. They had taken him under their wings, teaching him lessons that were important both on the court and off.
By his senior year of high school, Chance Parker was the man on campus. He’d managed to procure a little part-time job which helped him improve his wardrobe. But the change in his confidence came from the attention that he garnered, because of his basketball skills. The same beautiful young girls who’d once turned their noses up at him, were now yelling his name out in the hallways. The ones who’d whispered about him, and cursed him out for daring to speak to them were now pressing their pubescent bodies up against his, as he stood at his locker. They were begging for his attention. Begging him to pull up to their houses when their parents weren’t home.
Chance would never forget how it used to be…nor would he ever stop taking advantage of how it currently was.
“Fuck.” He muttered to himself as he plunged into the pretty brown-skinned chick beneath him. His hands were at her waist, pulling her back as he thrusted forward.
“Yes.” She moaned her agreement.
Some dudes in the league claimed to grow weary of all the faceless, nameless sex after a certain point. They stopped looking at it as fun, and decided to settle down. Not Chance. He could never see himself growing tired of faceless, nameless sex. As far as he was concerned, that was the best type of sex. He didn’t need to know the hoes he fucked on a personal level. All he needed was to be welcomed inside them, and taken care of sexually.
However, he did know the chick he was currently fucking. Well, he didn’t know her, know her. He knew her name, at least. That was more than he knew about many of the women he bedded. She wasn’t a complete stranger. She moved in his inner circle. And she’d made him work for the pussy. Not hard. Not like he broke a sweat or anything. But she’d made him work harder than the average bitch. For the average bitch, all it took was a smile. A two sentence conversation, and the average chick would follow him anywhere. This one was different, but not strikingly so. Hell, she’d still ended up underneath him - her ass tooted up in the air, her face flush with the mattress. Her back was arched in a way that told Chance that she’d had some years of dance training.
“Throw that shit back, Kirbie.” He gritted out.
She responded in kind, flinging her ass into his pelvis, as he gave her death strokes that made her want to cry tears of joy and pain simultaneously. Kirbie contracted her vagina, tightening it and squeezing Chance’s dick in an effort to encourage him to give up his load. They’d been into it for over 55 minutes. He’d already made her cum three times. She was exhausted, and her vagina was telling her that “enough was enough.”
Finally, Chance grunted. He pressed deep inside of her, and she felt the tell-tale pulsing of his dick that indicated she had satisfied him into orgasm. But then she felt…a wetness. A wetness that she knew was more than her own natural lubrication. Not only that, but the wetness seemed to intensify with every pulse of Chance’s dick.
“Oh no.” Kirbie said, attempting to turn around. But with Chance’s pelvis against her ass, and his hand placed securely on her back, she was rendered motionless.”Oh no.” She repeated, panic setting in. “Did you cum in me? Chance, did you cum in me?”
Chance, who had been floating on a cloud of bliss, was brutally snatched from the relief of his orgasm. Her words pierced the very fabric of his high. “The fuck?” He knew that he’d put on a condom. He knew for a fact that he NEVER fucked these hoes raw. Ever!
He pulled out of Kirbie, and looked down at his penis. It didn’t take a genius to realize that he was staring at the raw head of his dick - covered in both his and Kirbie’s juices. Shards of destroyed plastic remained haphazardly glued to his member.
“Fuck!” He roared, as his mind was bombarded with unpleasant realities.
Chance didn’t consider himself a person with good luck. Yeah, he’d made it to the NBA, but that wasn’t luck. It was hard work, determination, dedication, and unrepentant commitment. When it came to actual luck…Chance’s sucked. So, he knew. He already knew that she would get pregnant. That was how his luck ran. The one time a rubber broke on him, it would only stand to reason that with his luck, the bitch would end up pregnant with his seed. Chance wanted to cry.
Kirbie was in her own head, and the truth of the matter was that she wanted to cry, as well. The last thing she wanted was some random ass basketball player nutting her up with what could be contaminated, groupie bitch sperm. She didn’t know where his dick had been, and now, just like those posters from high school used to tell her, “whoever Chance had slept with, she’d slept with them, too.”
“You’re probably pregnant, now.” He grounded out.
Kirbie finally turned around and made eye contact with him. “Fuck a pregnancy, I’m trying not to have the H.I.V., dude.”
“What? Motherfucker, I’m in the NBA. I get tested for that shit every year. I’m the one who should be worried about getting the H.I.V. I don’t know who your ass has been with. I mean, you let me fuck after spitting some weak ass game at you.”
That gave Kirbie pause. Never in her life had she been disrespected like that by somebody she’d shared her body with. Chance basically called her a whore to her very face.
“That wasn’t even necessary.” She told him with a shake of her head. She was half-way in disbelief that he’d fucked up the condom, released his semen into her, and instead of being apologetic, or shit...even helpful, he’d resorted to name calling, and slut shaming. ”But I see what type of time you’re on. Don’t even worry about it. I will take my hoe ass down to the Walgreens and get a Plan B.
Or maybe I’ll just use one of the ones I already have for situations like this - when I fuck randoms and the condom breaks.” She moved around the bedroom, retrieving and slipping into her clothes as quickly as was humanly possible.
Chance watched her silently, not really sure if she was being sarcastic about having extra Plan Bs at the crib or not. He didn’t care, as long as she took the shit and stopped whichever one of his super sperm was on its way to fertilize her dizzy ass egg, in its tracks.
1
* * *
Kirbie
Eight Weeks Later:
I knew I was pregnant. I just didn’t get how the shit had happened. I mean, I got how it happened. Chance Parker’s dumb ass used a defective condom during the hit, and it broke - spilling sperm, but thankfully nothing else into my body. My OB/GYN had confirmed soon after the hit that I was disease free. What I didn’t get was what type of sperm that nigga was working with, that it was strong enough to defeat a Plan B. Either dude had miracle sperm; the baby I was baking was meant to save the earth or I had the worst luck in the freaking universe.
The Plan B made me sick. So sick. Sick as a proverbial dog. There was no reason why I should’ve had to be that sick, to still end up pregnant. If I’d known that the Incredible Asshole was shooting superhero sperm, I would’ve skipped the Plan B, and just been pregnant...like I was now, anyway.
Now the questions were: To have the baby or not to have the baby?
To tell the asshole or not to tell the asshole?
I was sitting at the island while my best friend, Genesis Cole-Upton, moved around her kitchen. The stick I’d peed on in her bathroom was still in my hand.
Turning around to face me, she took in my sour expression. “Awww, best friiieeennndddd.” She gave me a pout. “I honestly don’t know what to say.” She admitted. “On the one hand, I’m super happy, because we’ll be pregnant together, and our kids can grow up together. On the other hand, if you don’t want to keep this pregnancy...I totally understand.”
I sighed. “How can I tell you that I don’t want to keep this pregnancy, knowing everything you and Cross went through to get your pregnancy?” I gestured towards her protruding belly.
Genesis had married NBA superstar, Christian “Cross Up” Upton fourteen months earlier, with plans of immediately starting a family. Fertility issues stopped them dead in their tracks. Month after month for almost a year, I’d held Genesis in my arms every time her period showed up. Finally, she and Cross had opted for in vitro fertilization, and she was currently four months pregnant with twins.
“I mean, first I totally got pregnant without even trying - on a humble, if you will. That was caused by a faulty condom. Now I’m gonna terminate the pregnancy? How would you not feel a way about that entire situation?”
“Because I love you. And because this is about your life...not mine. You can’t have a baby just because you think I would feel a way if you didn’t have it. That wouldn’t even be fair to the baby.” After a brief pause, she continued. “I’m not gonna judge you, Kirbie. Make the decision that’s best for you. You’re starting Grad School in a few months. You have your career goals and your dreams to think about. Does a baby fit into that? And you’ll be a single mom. I’m not a single mom. I would have no right to judge you or your decision.”
“Grad School is how I got into this predicament.” I muttered.
Eight weeks earlier, I’d received the rejection letter from my first choice university. The letter telling me that I was “a’ight,” but that I didn’t meet their standards. I was in my feelings. I’d gotten dressed and gone out with my co-worker, Nicolette to Hustle Chgo - a club that I knew was frequented by professional athletes. Why I didn’t take my ass to Beta Bar or someplace else, was beyond me.
I drank. I wasn’t drunk or anything, because while Nicolette was cool - she wasn’t the friend you could get sloppy drunk with and expect to take care of you. That would’ve been Genesis, but for obvious reasons, I didn’t take Genesis with me that night. I spent most of my time out on the dance floor, trying to work off my frustration and personal disappointment.
Chance Parker clearly recognized me. And before I knew it, Nicolette and I were being escorted to a private section. Having Genesis as a best friend, and working for the Chicago Bison meant that I spent a fair amount of time around professional athletes. I wasn’t super impressed with being in their section. I didn’t spend my time trying to get their attention. I spent my time on the dance floor, trying not to think about the devastating news I’d received about my future.
It took me a minute to even realize that Chance was spending most of his night trying to keep my swaying body close to his. After a while, I leaned into the attention he was showing me. Low-key, Chance Parker was my secret crush, and my fantasy fuck. When things with us progressed to the point that he invited me back to his place, I went with it. I had no idea of the true asshole that he was in real life.
“I’m sorry you didn’t get accepted into Pynn University.” Genesis told me, going back to the stove to finish preparing our lunch. “But hell, you got into Chicago University - an elite university. It’s way more academically prestigious than Pynn.”
“Yeah.” I assented, “but it’s not where I want to be. I want to be at Pynn.”
“So, are you gonna reapply?”
My head shot up. “Hell no. Pynn doesn’t get multiple opportunities to reject me. Eff them. I’ll be right at Chicago University when the summer semester starts.”
“Pregnant and all?”
I shrugged my shoulders.
“Do you trust the pee stick? Do you really think you’re pregnant? I mean, the Plan B has like, a really high rate of success, doesn’t it?”
“It does if you take it within 12 hours of unprotected sex. 12 hours after Chance and I hooked up, I was still trying to process. I probably took it closer to 16 or 18 hours later. Maybe the success rate wasn’t as high. But yeah, I believe the test. Last month, I got all of my symptoms, and no period. This month...nothing. I am gonna make a doctor’s appointment, though.”
“You want me to go with you?”
“Maybe.” I shrugged my shoulders again. I wasn’t sure I wanted to involve Genesis, because I wasn’t even sure I was gonna keep the baby. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. I jumped on the app for my medical office and booked myself an appointment.
“You still haven’t spoken to Chance, right?” She started plating the food, and as I watched her, I had to admit that Genesis was good at what she did. As a sports nutritionist, personal chef and caterer, my girl had the gift of making food look and taste insanely delicious. That was why my mouth was watering at the thought of crushing the smoked chicken, with the side of slaw, and the turkey bacon and apple salad she was dishing up.
I pulled a face. “What am I talking to him for?” And I promise, as soon as those words left my mouth, Cross entered the kitchen with Chance Parker on his heels.
I truly hated that Chance and Cross had become so cool with each other that they hung out together. I figured that was bound to happen as they were teammates who were currently attempting to win their third NBA championship in a row. Besides that, Genesis was Chance’s personal chef, so they had a friendly relationship, as well.
Chance’s face was buried in the screen of his phone, so although I spotted him the second his feet crossed the threshold of the kitchen, he didn’t see me. If there had been a way for me to army crawl, teleport, tuck and roll or anything else out of that room, I would’ve done it. I was not trying to see Chance Parker...ever. Not with the way I was still majorly in my feelings about how he’d spoken to me the night that he’d changed the course of my life.
