The artificial yellow light from the fake morning sun came in through the blinds that were halfway open, making lines of light on the messed-up bedsheets.
Nash was sitting up straight on the edge of the bed wearing nothing but big, loose gym shorts. His muscles still hurt from yesterday when he completely destroyed the Raptors, but his eyes were stuck to his phone screen like glue.
The underground forums and trashy sports gossip sites were going crazy. Big bold titles screamed things like "NASH BLAZE: THE NEW KING OF THE STREETS" and "THE RAPTORS MASSACRE: A MONSTER IS BORN."
The comments sections were total chaos with fans losing their minds, but one post made Nash's jaw clench. Some creepy guys were looking at his old streetball videos, trying to figure out exactly where he lived by looking at buildings in the background.
In these shitty lower city areas, privacy didn't exist, and this was becoming a real fucking problem.
