The Rebound

by Sierra Hill

  God, I feel so foolish. I just want to get off the phone now and sob into my pillow for being so dumb. All this time, I thought he cared for me with the same intensity and degree as I do for him. I’ve fallen hard for Van, but apparently, we’re not on the same page.

  “Oh.” Is all I can muster.

  Now I regret saying anything at all. I should’ve just kept my mouth shut and never mentioned anything to him. I’d done all the prep work with my program administrator and counselor, as well as contacted ASU’s admissions department to find out more about their programs. I was so excited to share this news with him. The only thing I hadn’t done yet was tell my mom and dad. I didn’t want them to fret over this decision quite yet.

  Van’s next comment has me blinking back tears…of joy.

  “On the other hand, if I stay in Phoenix after graduation, it would be amazing to be able to see you all the time. We could get an apartment…”

  My eyes flutter, finding his over the connection and the grin he wears has me beaming. My heart does an internal shimmy and happy dance, jumping around in elated leaps inside my ribs.

  “An apartment, huh?” My mom and dad would freak, but that couldn’t stop me. I’d be staying in an apartment off campus, anyway.

  “We’ll have to see about that, Mr. Gerard. It depends on how good of a roommate you are.” I give him a little wink, conjuring my inner minx. “If you leave the toilet seat up or towels on the floor, there’s no deal.”

  He blushes a bright shade of red. Adorable.

  “I’ll admit, I’m not the greatest with laundry and I like to leave my dirty socks laying around. But my mom always made me make my bed at home, so I’m kind of a stickler with that routine.”

  We laugh and talk more about the possibilities of what living together might look like. After another thirty minutes, I can tell he’s exhausted from the travel and the game, so we say our good-nights, which tack on another five minutes to our phone time because it’s so darn hard hanging up from that beautiful face.

  Just before we hang up, he knocks me off my feet and reconfirms what I mean to him.

  “Kylah,” he murmurs, laying back against a huge stack of pillows behind his head.

  “Yeah?”

  “I love you.”

  Jaw, meet floor.

  You know that feeling you get when you’re at the top of the rollercoaster, after you’ve just climbed the long hill, hearing the clickety-clack of the tracks underneath you and the swarm of noise surrounding you? When you just hurdle over the otherwise, plummeting down in a blaze of glory?

  Yeah, that’s how those three words feel to me.

  Exhilarating. Momentous. Life-changing.

  “I love you, too, Van. Good-night.”

  Needless to say, I won’t sleep a wink tonight.

  24

  Van

  My college basketball career is nearing the end. The second week of each February marks the countdown to the last full month of regular play before things get interesting. It’s the calm before the storm, when all eyes were focused on what is ahead of us, in hopes that we’d wind up in the championship tournament.

  Even those who aren’t college basketball fans have heard about March Madness. It’s the culmination of a hard work and sacrifice when a total of sixty-eight teams head into the post season NCAA tournament, also known as the Big Dance. Some teams get there by their conference championships and wins, and others are selected on the aptly named Selection Sunday when we are slotted into seeds and brackets. It’s every gambler’s dream - March Madness is the Holy Grail for betting types.

  I’m both excited and a bit mournful over the upcoming month of play. I want to take it all in, remembering every aspect of each game played, locking it away as memories for my future life. It’s difficult to imagine when play is finally done, I’ll no longer be a basketball player. My final game will definitely be bittersweet.

  Some of the guys on the team will be entering the draft come June. Two for certain are Carver Edwards and the other center on the team, Christian Lancaster. They both decided to remain in school and graduate before announcing their interest. A lot of players in the league dropout somewhere between their freshman and sophomore years, hoping to capitalize on their youthful physicality, agility, and vitality to make it in the big leagues. For me, that was never in my field of vision.

  What has been in my future plans is making my parents and Dougie proud of who I am and what I could become. I’m not going to make a name for myself in finance, but I think someday I could be a good leader and maybe CFO. Every business needs one of those. Coach Welby has always told me to “step up and use my natural born leadership skills”. I’m not an in-your-face leader like Carver, who is gregarious and overly-confident. I’m more of the laid back kind of guys who quietly assert my opinions and ideas without blasting it in your face.

  Like tonight’s game, for example. We were down by twelve points going into the second half. Carver went out with an injury to his calf, so our other point guard, Kenyon Lyons, a sophomore from Missouri, stepped in. He’s a good kid, but a little like a skittish bunny. So during one of the timeouts, I slapped him on the shoulder, grabbing the scruff behind his head, and gave him a little pep talk.

  “Look, bruh. You’re doing great. No one expects you to be Carver. Be yourself. Trust your instincts. You got this, dude.”

  After that, the stars started to align and we began making baskets, finding the open holes and taking the shots that got us the lead. I ended up making two three-pointers from the perimeter, and a couple rebounds while under the basket. We won the game by one point.

  Everyone went out to celebrate afterward, but I left early so I could get home for my Skype date with Kylah. Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day and I had shipped her a care package with a bunch of stuff I knew she would like.

  Included in the package was a pair of polka dot panties I found at Victoria’s Secret. I might not be able to see her wear them this weekend, but I’d definitely get a chance the next time we were together. Or maybe in our Skype session tonight I’d ask her to try them on for me.

  Fuck, my cock is hard just thinking about the possibility of her laying out on her bed dressed only in her panties. I wonder if I could convince my shy little sex kitten to do that for me?

  I can’t wait to get her online to see her. I’ve missed her so much I can barely stand it any longer. I just want to hold her in my arms. Kiss her dewy lips until they turn swollen and puffy from my attention. Touch her body in all the places I know will make her squirm with excitement.

  I open the door to my dorm room and the first thing I notice is that my desk light is on. I don’t recall leaving it on. Weird. And then I catch a long-forgotten, yet very familiar, scent.

  My eyes snap to the bed, where laid out nearly naked, in only a lacy bra and panties, is not Kylah…but my ex.

  “Lyndsay.”

  Her name echoes off the walls of my small room, as I instinctively take a step back, planting my butt against the door. My hand firmly on the handle, as if my mind already knows I’ll need a quick escape.

  My immediate thought is that I need her to leave. I don’t know what the hell she’s doing here – practically naked in my bed – but she is an uninvited and unwanted guest. And that’s a liberal term since she’s not even a guest. That would imply that I’m the host of this little party, and that I certainly am not.

  My eyes can’t help but peruse her body. I’ve seen her in my bed a hundred times before. I know the feel of her body. The taste of her skin. The scent of her…

  Fuck.

  My tone is harsh and lacks any form of welcome. “What the hell are you doing here, Lynds?”

  Lyndsay’s eyes narrow on me, in an appraising glance, her penetrating stare sweeps over me as she makes her way seductively toward me on her hands and knees. Her lips curl into a licentious smile.

  “Do you know what today is?” she asks, now kneeling at the edge of my bed, her tongue darting out to lick he
r bottom lip. It’s supposed to be seductive, but it makes me want to throttle her.

  “No, and I don’t care. I want you to leave.”

  She moves with the speed of a gazelle, jumping off the bed and landing softly with a thud within inches of me. I try to back up, but I’m as far against the door as I can possibly go. I’m trapped. So I do the only thing I can do, I place my hands on her bare shoulders to hold her at bay.

  “Van,” she coos, tilting her head, chin down so her lips meet the top of my hand, which she kisses. “You don’t remember? This is a special night for us. It’s the anniversary of the first time we ever had sex. On our camping trip up at Coal Springs. God, it was such a great night.”

  My heart remembers. Damn it. She doesn’t play fair. Of course, it was a great night. She was my first. We fumbled and stumbled together that first time, trying to figure out how to put a condom on and where and how to fit my dick inside her. It’s almost comical to think back on it now.

  But I don’t want to think about it. It’s not laughing matter. There’s no room for history between us. It’s done. Over. She fucking cheated on me, got knocked up by another guy and dumped me. And now I’m in love with another girl. I’ve moved on and so has she.

  So why is she even here?

  I drop my hands to my sides, like they have lead weights on them, and ball my hands into fists.

  “You have exactly two seconds to tell me why you’re in my fucking room, Lyndsay. And then you’re going to leave.”

  She sticks her lower lip out in a pout. “I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

  “You thought wrong.”

  “I’ve missed you, baby.” She reaches up to drape her arms around my neck, which I try to shrug off unsuccessfully. They pin me like a vice.

  “I don’t see how you can… I mean, what would Cody think about his pregnant girlfriend missing her ex-boyfriend?”

  That apparently did it, because she drops her arms and takes a step back, her eyes meeting the floor.

  “We’re not together anymore. He broke it off after I lost the baby.”

  Here’s the deal. When you’ve been shit on by someone you once loved, you want nothing more than to get revenge at some point. Love, when you’ve been fucked over, quickly turns to hurt, which then turns to hatred. And when you hate someone, all you want them to do is suffer exactly like you’ve suffered. Karma is a bitch, and all that.

  However, being raised in a very Christian household, where I was taught to love everyone and turn the other cheek, yada, yada yada…it makes it a bit difficult to want someone I once cared for to suffer. Just looking at the anguish written all over Lyndsay’s face I realize she has experienced a very difficult loss. Whether that was in breaking up with Cody Leach, over miscarrying his baby or both.

  “I’m sorry, Lyndsay. That must be awful.” And I truly mean it. I can see she’s hurting.

  She wraps her arms around her waist protectively, her head still angled toward the ground. As she slowly raises it, a start of an apologetic smile appears on her face.

  “Don’t you want to tell me I deserved what I got? That you’re glad karma found me?”

  Moving over to my desk chair, I reach for the hoodie laying over the back of it and hand it to her for her to put on. I’m a guy, after all, and having a girl – especially my ex – nearly naked in my bedroom does weird things to my brain. She accepts the offer and slips it over her head.

  Once she’s covered, I lead her to the desk chair and have her sit down.

  “That’s not what I would say, and you know it.”

  “I know.”

  “Is that why you came here? You thought showing up and trying to sleep with me would make things better?”

  She winces at the severity of my words.

  “I’m sorry, Van. It was stupid. But I just feel so lost. Everything that’s happened over the last few months, the path I chose…letting you go. It was all…I made bad decisions. I fucked up. I know that now. It’s just been really hard.”

  I no longer have the same feelings I once had for Lyndsay. Those are all gone. But seeing the tears spill down over her face, her head hanging in defeat, makes me want to show her she’s selling herself short.

  I hold out my outstretched arm to her, palm up, inviting her to take hold. She does and I yank her over to the side of the bed where we both sit. I wrap her up in a hug. It’s not sexual in any way. It’s meant to be comforting. She cries softly into my dress shirt, which I’m still wearing post-game.

  “It’ll all work out okay, Lynds. You’re strong and smart. Don’t get down on yourself. You’ll be fine.”

  Her cheek is against my chest, chin resting lightly on the top of her head when there’s a knock on my door.

  “Yo, Van. Open the door. I’ve got something for ya.”

  It’s Cade. Shit.

  Lyndsay jerks back a little, her head popping up to look at me, my eyes wide with concern. This would not be good if he sees her in here with me. Not that easy to explain away.

  But before either of us has a chance to figure out a plan or the best approach, the door swings open and Cade, and then Kylah, both appear.

  Oh, fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck.

  The looks on their faces tell me everything I need to know.

  Joy.

  Surprise.

  Betrayal.

  Kylah squeaks out a loud gasp, as she covers her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide with hurt. The way she stares at me – the pain evident across her face – shatters me. I know exactly what she sees, even though it’s conveying a completely different message. My eyes – my heart – my everything – beseeches her to know the truth. To realize this isn’t what it seems.

  Cade protectively throws an arm out in front of Kylah, blocking her entrance. He turns his head behind him and speaks low in her ear. I can’t hear what he says, but I see Kylah nod her head and backs up and out of the room.

  “Cade…it’s not…we’re not…” I ping-pong between Cade and Lyndsay, whose tears have dried up and she looks confused. She doesn’t know I’ve been dating Kylah, and to my knowledge, has never met her. But she knows Cade. And I’m sure she sees the severity of the situation.

  “You fucking asshole,” he yells, charging me from the door. In three long strides, he’s pulled me up by my tie and collar, his fist ready to make contact with my jaw with the slightest provocation. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t fucking kill you right now.”

  Lyndsay jumps to her feet, lodging herself between the two of us.

  “Because it’s not his fault. He did nothing wrong. You should know better than that, Cade.”

  Cade grumbles, his hand tightening and then loosening as he decides whether or not to trust what Lyndsay is saying is true.

  After a few moments, he gives me a quick shove and drops his hand, stepping back to assess the situation. He takes in the hoodie Lyndsay’s wearing, covering only to her mid-thigh, otherwise naked underneath. He sees I’m still fully clothed and maybe he even notices the genuine concern in my eyes. All I want to do right now is fly out that door and track down Kylah.

  She gave me no indication that she was going to visit this weekend. We both talked about how busy we were with classes and my basketball schedule. There seemed no way that we’d get a chance to see each other. A kernel of dread now pops through my veins, a heavy mixture of anxiety skirting around my brain. I need to find her.

  Cade seems to read my thoughts and shakes his head.

  “No…I’ll go talk to her. But you need to fix this. You just pissed on her parade in a really big way, man. It’s not going to be easy to come back from this.”

  “Yeah, thanks.” Is all I can think to say. I’m at a loss for words.

  I’ve lost big games before. I’ve lost my temper on several occasions. I’ve even lost my way a few times.

  But losing Kylah. That I can’t live with.

  25

  Kylah

  I ran out of Van’s dorm room and down the
stairs faster than I’ve ever run before. In fact, I missed a step on my way down and nearly collided into a guy coming up on the opposite side. I may have mumbled an apology, but I’m not a hundred percent certain.

  All I know is that my heart shattered up in that room and I seriously wonder how I’m still alive and breathing.

  Pushing through the building doors, I have to move to the side as a group of kids are walking in, all laughing and chattering. I wish I were them right now – high on life and happy. Instead, I’m devastated. I’m left hanging by a thread, unable to make heads or tails of what I just witnessed.

  My plans for my first Valentine’s weekend with Van have been completely obliterated. I had enlisted my brother to help me get into the dorms because I don’t have an access badge. Showing up unannounced was risky enough, but to do it without certainty that I could get in the building was a difficult prospect. Cade was happy to help, knowing how much it meant to me. We’d planned on meeting right after the game at his place and then he’d bring me over to campus.

  I brought a picnic dinner of sorts – filled with decadent chocolate desserts, white-chocolate covered strawberries, because Van loves white-chocolate – and a bottle of bubbly. Cade bought that for me since I’m not legal.

  The picnic basket is still on the floor upstairs in the hallway where I dropped it and ran. So are my hopes that this weekend would be one to remember. My first Valentine’s Day with a guy. With someone I loved and who told me he loved me, too. I believed him. I had no reason not to.

  Now all my thoughts are running rampant, thinking back over the last month that we’ve been apart and wondering if I’d been played? Has Van been two-timing me along with Lyndsay? Although I’ve never met her in person, I know it was her. When we first became friends, he shared with me some of their pictures together.

  I feel dizzy and unstable, as I finally stop to look around at where I’m at. I’d had no real direction in mind when I came running out of the building. Glancing around at my surroundings, I realize I’m in the middle of the quad, the street lights illuminating the pathway, casting shadows across the grounds.