by Jay McLean
“I’m fine, Dad,” I interrupt. I don’t need a pep talk, at least not from him. I just need to stay in my head, stay focused.
I open the front door and freeze momentarily. There’s a single, sad looking balloon hanging off the porch railing. Bright orange, like the team colors. And written in black marker, a large #3, my jersey number. I notice more writing on the other side, and so I flip it between my hands and take a closer look. A laugh erupts from deep in my throat. BOO!
My back squeaks against the hardwood as I slide a few feet, leaving a trail of sweat in my wake. The crowd that’d been deafening all night is suddenly quiet. I start to raise my hand to shield my eyes from the bright gym lights, but Rhys stands over me, blocking them. He offers me his hand, and the crowd goes crazy. His grin matches mine when I use his hand to help me get back on my feet. “They’re going to keep knocking you down until you can’t get back up!” he shouts into my ear.
I make my way to the free-throw line, hands out for the ball. “They can keep trying,” I yell back. “But I can go all damn night!”
I sink both shots without even trying.
“All damn night, baby!” Rhys whoops, ruffling my hair.
From the sidelines, Coach Sykes calls out to me, “Are you done?”
“Not even close!”
My opponent stands beside me, hands on his knees. He’s the sixth one to cover me tonight, and he’s done. Roasted. Me? I haven’t even warmed up yet. He turns to me, shaking his head. “Where the hell did you come from, Ledger?”
I shrug. “Florida.”
“Well, go the fuck back.”
“You killed it tonight, Ledger,” Oscar, a sophomore says, punching my shoulder while I sit in front of my locker.
“Thanks, man.”
“Yeah, way to show us up,” Mitch calls.
I ignore him, but Rhys doesn’t. “Last I checked, basketball was a team sport. Go run track if you want to get noticed, or I don’t know… up your fucking game.”
Mitch scoffs. “You cup his balls while you’re down there kissing his ass?”
Rhys laughs. “No, but your mom does.”
I grab my phone from my locker, the post-win adrenaline spiking when I see the text from Ava:
Ava: Triple double on your first game? Way to show off, #3.
Connor: Stalk much?
Ava: What can I say? I’m a fan.
Connor: I pretended you were there.
Ava: :( I wish I were.
Connor: You kind of were.
Ava: How?
Connor: I popped that balloon and shoved it down my shorts.
Ava: Gross.
Connor: Yet endearing, right?
Rhys says, “Hey, the team’s going to the diner to celebrate. You’re coming, right?” at the same time a message comes through from Ava.
Ava: Mom’s already asleep. I can probably come outside for a little bit if you want to tell me all about it…
I look up at Rhys, the way his eyes shift from my phone to me. He sighs. “Do your thing, Ledger. But at some point, you’re going to have to act like you’re a part of the team, too. It’s a two-way street, and I can only hold the guys off for so long.”
I slam my locker shut, thank Rhys, and text Ava on my way out.
Connor: I’m leaving now.
Ava rushes down her porch steps, her arms outstretched as she pounces on me. I catch her just in time, falling back a step while she laughs quietly in my ear. “Superstar!” she whispers. There’s something to be said about being able to literally sweep a girl off her feet. I spin her around, refusing to let her go. She doesn’t seem to want that, either, because even when her feet are planted on the ground, she’s still holding on, her arms around my neck. On her toes, she looks up at me, her eyes lit up by the streetlamp. “Tell me everything,” she says, her smile contagious. “From the second you walked out until the final buzzer. And don’t skimp on the details. I want a play-by-play so I can feel like I was there.”
I laugh at her rambling, then say, “It was… was…” I pause, trying to remember the way I felt less than an hour ago, but the details are blurred, the moments insignificant. Because this… being with her and seeing her like this, seeing the pride in her eyes, the excitement in her voice—it outweighs everything else. And knowing that all of her, right now, is all for me... I pull her closer. “It was just a game, Ava.” And as the words slip from my lips, I feel the heaviness of their truth dig deeper inside me.
“It wasn’t just a game. It’s, like, you’re coming out, you know? Your world’s about to change, Connor. I hope you’re ready for it.” She pulls away from me, releasing me completely. Then she smiles, but it’s not the same smile she greeted me with. “Don’t forget the little people who got you here,” she says, only half in jest. “And by that, I mean me. Promise you won’t forget me?”
With a heavy sigh, I take a step forward, ridding us of the space she so strongly believes she needs. “It’s kind of hard for me to forget the one person I can’t stop thinking about.”
Her eyes lock on mine, her lips parted, and I wonder if she can hear the magic beating wildly inside me. She sucks in a breath, then seems to refocus. A smile plays on her lips as she looks down at her phone and mumbles, “I wonder if they have any game video yet.”
She’s tapping away at her phone, and I’m tapping away at my mind, my bravado. “Ava?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re so fucking beautiful.”
And it’s killing me.
Connor: You asked me yesterday if it would be enough; meeting you and getting to know you, and I cracked a stupid joke when I should have told you the truth. And the truth is this: yes. In the simplest of terms and the most complicated of circumstances, yes. You are enough. I wake up every single morning looking forward to the couple of hours I get to spend with you, to the few minutes I get to see you smile and hear your voice and feel you next to me. Even on the days when our time is limited, just knowing you’re there and you exist is worth it. And even if I have to spend the rest of my life wondering what it would be like to kiss you just once… these moments with you… they’re worth everything. YOU are worth everything.
Chapter 25
Connor
The entire school is abuzz, hallways are filled with orange and black streamers, and everywhere I go, I get swarmed. Pats on the back from the boys, flirtatious compliments from the girls. Even the teachers are pulling me aside to talk about the game. Or more specifically, my performance. Coach has already had me in his office, along with the school paper’s sports reporter. The headline for the next issue: “Ledger: The Powerhouse Import.” Even the principal wants to meet so we can set up a media schedule for all the local papers wanting to do a story on me. And then there’s the team. It’s as if I had to prove beyond all our practices that I was actually good enough to garner their respect. Which I get, but at the same time, fuck you.
“You have to eat lunch in the cafeteria today,” Rhys says, catching me in between classes.
“What? No. I have lunch with—”
“Ava, I know. But it’s kind of a tradition the day after a game. Win, lose or draw we have to show that we’re a team. Coach’s orders.”
“But—”
“It’s five minutes, Connor; it’s not going to kill you. Besides, the cheerleaders do a thing for new players.”
“What thing?”
He shrugs. “I’ll catch you at lunch, okay? Don’t be late!”
I don’t think I’ve ever cringed as hard as I am right now, watching the cheerleaders chant my name only a few feet in front of me. Next to me, Mitch keeps backhanding my shoulder, his eyebrows raised, like “How good is this?” And maybe to other guys this is a wet dream come true, but to me… I just want to be with Ava. And Rhys—fuck Rhys—because the five minutes he said it would take has turned into twenty, and I need to go. As soon as the cheerleaders have finished their routine, I thank them and start to leave. Rhys pulls me down by my arm. “Stay.”
“Did you like it?” Karen asks, shooing Mitch out of his seat so she can sit next to me.
Not wanting to be rude, I plaster on the most genuine smile I can muster. “Yeah, it was great.”
She nods, takes a bite out of Mitch’s leftover apple. “We worked on it all morning.”
“Cool.” I stand again, and again, Rhys pulls me to sit back down. “I have to piss. You want me to do it right here?”
“Oh. Why didn’t you say so?”
This time, I’m allowed to leave, and I practically sprint over to the football field. Ava is waiting in her usual spot, and I race up the steps two at a time. “I had to sit with the stupid team in the cafeteria and the—”
She holds out a container, cutting me off. “I made you lunch,” she says, pouting. “But it’s probably cold now.”
“I’m so sorry,” I rush out, sitting in front of her. “I got stuck. I had to sit through the cheerleaders—”
“The welcoming routine,” she mumbles. “Shoot. I forgot about that.”
I want to crack a joke about how she used to be one of them, but she wasn’t the one to tell me, and I don’t know if she wants me knowing. “It was horrible,” I assure.
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah. It’s such a travesty that you had to watch a bunch of hot girls in super short skirts screaming your name over and over.” She mocks fanning herself. “Oh, Connor, Connor, Connor,” she moans.
The sound replays in my head for longer than it should, and I stare, unabashed. Her lips are red, wet, and I can’t help but lick my own, wonder for the umpteenth time what those lips would feel like against mine, what she’d taste like. I realize she’s watching me, too, her focus on my mouth. She’s the first to break our trance, looking away and down at her hands. “Are you still okay to give me a ride home later?”
“Of course.”
“And um… what you said last night, in your text, did you mean it?”
I swallow, nervous. “Which part?”
“Did you lie about any of it?”
“No.”
She nods, slowly, but still doesn’t make eye contact. And before I even get a chance to open the lunch she made me, the warning bell goes off. I curse at the same time Ava drops to her knees beside me. She settles her hands on my chest, her gaze intense and locked on mine. Her lips part, her tongue darting out, spreading moisture on the parts of her I’ve been fixated on for days. Her touch drifts up to my shoulders, my nape, and I’m frozen with fear but melting with desire, and then she moves an inch closer and closer and closer, her eyes drifting shut and mine doing the same, my own hands blindly finding the small bit of skin between her knees and her skirt. She whispers my name, and I groan in response, and then her mouth’s on mine, so fucking soft—a complete contrast to the instant reaction in my pants—and my lips part to take hers in. Her hands are in my hair, fingers laced through the strands, and mine are on her thighs, under her skirt, and she’s warm… warm enough to light a fire inside me. I need air, but I need her more, and when the tip of my tongue searches for hers, finds it, I squeeze her legs—an impulse—and she tugs at my hair, pulls me closer again. My head tilts one way, hers the other, and we’re two jagged pieces of two different puzzles that somehow fit perfectly when we’re connected. Her breaths are sharp, short, and I hear every single one through the loud thump, thump, thumping in my chest. She’s sitting higher on her knees, and my hands move behind her, to the spot right beneath her ass. She moans out my name, and all I can do is open my mouth wider, kiss her harder. So many fucking hours of fantasizing about this moment, and never—not once—did it ever feel like this. This… this…
The air hits my mouth where she should be, and I open my eyes to see her watching me, her lips red and raw from my assault. “Holy shit,” she whispers, and I use her legs to bring her back to me. She falls, almost on top of me now, and I continue where we left off. This time, I go for her neck, her jaw. She holds me to her, her fingers running through my hair and I’m so fucking turned on, I can’t see straight. In the distance, the bell rings again, and Ava pulls away, her eyes glazed. “We should go,” she says, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to stop, and I don’t want to leave her, and I don’t want this moment to end.
She giggles, pulling away completely. She adjusts her clothes, and I adjust the bulge in my pants. She gives me one final kiss. Chaste. Then she smiles. “Now you no longer have to wonder,” she says.
“Wonder what?” I breathe out, confused.
“What it would be like to kiss me… just once.”
Chapter 26
Ava
How much damage can one kiss possibly do?
A lot, apparently, because it’s all I can think about for the rest of the day. His lips, his hands, all the ways he touched me, the ways he made me feel… I can’t focus on anything else. Not the classwork in biology. Not a phone ringing somewhere in the distance. Not Rhys hissing my name.
Something nudges my elbow, pulling me from my daydream. I turn to Rhys sitting next to me, my eyes narrowed in annoyance. “What?”
“Your phone’s going off,” he says, and I look up and around me, and everyone is staring. Then reality hits and hits hard. I reach for my pocket, see Krystal’s name on the screen. I answer it without any regard for where I am or what I’m doing.
“Your mom’s having an episode, Ava. You should come home right now. Trevor’s on his way.” I don’t even respond before I’m on my feet and heading toward the door.
No one asks what I’m doing or where I’m going; they already know.
The two minutes waiting for Trevor in the school parking lot feels like hours.
I send a quick text to Connor to let him know I had to bail and practically jump into Trevor’s moving truck when he arrives.
Dread.
Dread replaces all other emotions, all other thoughts, and my blood heats, rushes through my entire body. I can’t sit still, can’t stop the worst possible scenarios from circling my mind.
“It’s okay,” Trevor says, hand on my knee to stop the bouncing. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
“How do you know?” I whisper.
He doesn’t have an answer, so he doesn’t respond.
I burst through the front door and can hardly set foot inside. Magazines and broken glass are scattered throughout; picture frames hang crooked on the walls. Krystal is in the middle of the living room, her hands on her hips, and Mom—Mom is sitting in the corner, head in her knees, an arm covering her face. She’s rocking back and forth, whispering words too unintelligible, even for my ears.
Krystal inhales a long, sharp breath before turning to me. “She’s okay now,” she breathes out. “She’s in the—”
“Aftermath,” I finish for her, taking the steps to get to my mother. Slowly, quietly, I squat down, ignoring the shattering of glass beneath my shoes. I fight back the tears, hold back my cries. “Mama?” I am a conqueror. I am. I am. “It’s Ava. Remember me?”
Mom stills, looks up at me with eyes glazed, fighting a battle between chaos and calm. “Of course, I remember you,” she says, her voice low. Her warm, wet hand settles on my jaw, taps gently. I fight back the urge to recoil. But then she breaks, a single tear falling from her eyes. “My Ava, Ava, Ava.” She starts rocking again. “Ava, Ava, Ava.”
I take her in my arms, hold her to me, and sway with her motions.
“I’m sorry, Ava, Ava, Ava.”
“It’s okay, Mama,” I assure, looking up at Trevor. The sadness in his smile creates an ache in my chest.
Mom’s shoulders start to shake, and I bring her closer, hold her tighter. “They came for me, Ava. They came for me and they found me… and it was so dark and so…”
“Shh,” I hush, letting her bury her face in my neck. “It’s okay. It’s all over now. You’re home, Mama. And you’re safe.”
Mom has “episodes” and with them comes “aftermaths.”
We’ve experienced more than a few of them since she’s returned,
and even a couple between deployments. When Krystal writes up her report about this particular episode, she’ll call it a “mild” one. Most of the time I’m with Mom, or at the least, I’m near enough that I can be there to help her through it. When the aftermaths are harder to reach, Trevor has to step in, physically. Emotionally, it’s all on me.
It took a half hour to get my mom to calm down enough so I could get her into bed. She was asleep within minutes. The episodes take a lot out of her.
“Ava?” Trevor says, standing in my doorway, his shoulder leaning against the frame. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I nod, saving the final changes to Trevor’s calendar. Having him leave work for an emergency like today means having to reschedule his appointments. I always offer to make the calls so he doesn’t have to. It’s one less thing he has to worry about, and the very least I can do.
“Krystal just left,” he says, entering my room. He sits on the edge of the bed, his arms outstretched behind him. “But I gotta be honest, Ava. Things aren’t the greatest right now, and I really don’t think I should be leaving you alone this—”
“Stop it,” I cut in, already knowing this was coming. “I’ll be fine.” I hope. “Besides, you need to be there. You’re the best man.” At his old man’s wedding. The same man I used to call my stepdad. The same man who split when things got too hard for him and left all the burden on his son because apparently there’s no such thing as too hard for Trevor.
He sighs, the sound filling the entire room. “I knew you’d say that, which is why I called in a favor…”
I spin in my desk chair and face him completely. “What do you mean?”
