Chapter 7: Cousin

"Yeah, I've got a catwalk show here. Didn't you see my post on Facebook?" Hathaway asked, her voice teasing but playful.

"Uh... I've been a bit busy lately," Andrew said, scratching the back of his head, feeling slightly embarrassed. Facebook wasn't really his thing.

They chatted for a while, their conversation light, before hanging up. Andrew turned to Thibodeau with a grin. "Looks like we've got dinner plans tonight."

Thibodeau raised an eyebrow. "We?"

Andrew had been looking forward to meeting his cousin, Hathaway, but the idea of being alone with her made him uneasy. It had been years since they'd seen each other, and things might get awkward. Bringing Thibodeau along seemed like the perfect buffer.

If Thibodeau knew what Andrew was thinking, he'd probably groan in exasperation.

Andrew didn't ask Hathaway to pick him up. Instead, he and Thibodeau made their way to the fancy restaurant she'd suggested, the dim lights and soft jazz music setting a romantic ambiance. As they entered, Thibodeau shot Andrew a sideways glance, his suspicions growing.

After waiting a few minutes at their table, Andrew was about to check his watch when a statuesque figure made its way through the crowd. Heads turned as she walked, her long legs drawing the eyes of every man in the room.

Andrew's jaw dropped. There, in a form-fitting dress that left little to the imagination, was Hathaway. She wasn't the cousin he remembered from years ago; she had transformed into a vision of beauty, her toned physique and model-like features exuding confidence.

For a moment, Andrew was completely caught off guard. He'd expected some awkward reunion, but he hadn't prepared for this.

"Well, well, don't tell me you've forgotten me in just two months?" Hathaway teased, her full lips curving into a playful smile that could melt anyone's heart.

Andrew snapped out of his daze, realizing his gaze had lingered a bit too long. He plastered on a grin, shaking off his surprise. "It's just... you've become even more beautiful since the last time we met."

Hathaway's cheeks flushed, a light pink blush spreading over her flawless skin. She wasn't used to Andrew, her quiet and typically reserved cousin, being so complimentary. Was it because of the handsome man sitting beside him?

She shifted her attention to Thibodeau, her eyebrows raising with curiosity. And, of course, Thibodeau couldn't help but look confused. In his mind, Andrew's cousin should've looked more like Andrew—he wasn't expecting this stunning bombshell.

"Tom, this is my cousin, Gwyneth Hathaway. In my eyes, she's the best model in the world."

"Gwyneth, this is Tom Thibodeau, my colleague and, well... you'll see."

Hathaway's eyes sparkled with mischief as she shook Thibodeau's hand. "Nice to meet you, Tom. So, Andrew's a basketball coach now. Is he hard to keep in line?" she asked with a wink.

Thibodeau blinked, feeling slightly embarrassed by her directness. Did she think Andrew worked under him?

"Actually... I'm his assistant," Thibodeau corrected, chuckling lightly.

Hathaway's smile faltered for a moment, and she turned back to Andrew with wide eyes, as if seeing him for the first time. Her cousin, the quiet, awkward one who was always off in his own world, was now in charge? It didn't seem possible.

"You're a coach now? For which high school or college?" Hathaway asked, trying to wrap her head around it.

Thibodeau chuckled again, his voice filled with amusement. "He didn't tell you? He's the first assistant coach of the Houston Rockets and head coach for their Las Vegas Summer League team."

"The Rockets?" Hathaway repeated, her brow furrowing. "Wait... the NBA Rockets?"

Andrew nodded, a proud but humble smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Hathaway blinked rapidly, her mind spinning. Her cousin, the Andrew Tang, was an NBA coach? This felt like a fever dream. She wasn't much of an NBA fan, but even she knew the significance of that. Joy lit up her face, her eyes sparkling.

"You're serious? My cousin, an NBA coach?" She shook her head in disbelief, but the pride she felt was unmistakable. "That's incredible, Andrew. We have to celebrate tonight. This is huge!"

Hathaway waved over the waiter with an air of authority. "Bring us your best wine. We're celebrating."

Soon, two bottles of fine red wine appeared on the table, and Hathaway wasted no time pouring.

Andrew, who had never been much of a drinker, watched her enthusiasm with amusement. He sipped cautiously, savoring the rich taste, but didn't indulge too much. Thibodeau, ever the disciplined coach, refrained from touching the wine at all.

As the night went on, Hathaway's excitement didn't wane. She poured glass after glass, her laughter becoming more frequent, her smiles wider. Andrew, feeling the warmth of the alcohol and the joy of the evening, lost track of how many drinks he'd had.

By the time the bottles were empty, Hathaway was clearly drunk, her words slightly slurred but her joy undiminished.

Andrew, also feeling the effects, had originally planned to book a separate room at the hotel, but when he tried, he found out the hotel was fully booked for the night.

It was late, and Hathaway was too tipsy to be left alone. Andrew helped her back to her room, his arm around her waist as she leaned into him. Her soft, warm body pressed against his side as they stumbled through the dimly lit hallway.

A heady mix of alcohol and Hathaway's proximity stirred something in Andrew. His body, still in its physical prime, reacted to the closeness. He tried to push the thoughts away, reminding himself she was his cousin—albeit distantly related with no blood ties.

As they entered the room, Hathaway giggled and collapsed onto the bed, her dress hiking up slightly as she sprawled out on the sheets.

Andrew's pulse quickened, and for a moment, he stood frozen in place. The sight of her—the delicate curve of her hips, her exposed collarbone, her tousled hair—set his mind racing.

Just then, the wine's effects hit Hathaway, and she suddenly turned and began to vomit.

Andrew hurried to help her to the bathroom.

After a few minutes of vomiting, Hathaway's clothes were dirty.

Andrew quickly grabbed a bathrobe from the hotel closet and helped her change.

As he helped her change clothes, his senses slowly returned.

Hathaway had been drinking to celebrate his success, and if he did anything now, it would be completely wrong.

Regaining his composure, Andrew helped her clean up, changed her clothes, and laid her back on the bed.

He tidied up the room, cleaned the bathroom, and then settled down on the sofa, watching his cousin sleep.

Though he hadn't intended it, he found himself looking at her, wondering what the morning would bring.

He shook his head, realizing how late it was. They had a game the next day. Grabbing a blanket, he lay down on the sofa and drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, Andrew was the first to wake. His head throbbed slightly, likely from sleeping in the cold.

He saw that Hathaway was still asleep. Writing her a note, he informed her that the room had been extended, then headed off to the stadium with Thibodeau.

"You don't look so good. Are you feeling okay?" Thibodeau asked, noticing Andrew yawning.

"Just a slight cold, nothing serious," Andrew replied, yawning again.

Although Andrew said he was fine, Thibodeau couldn't help but worry.