The Casanova Experience: A Friends to Lovers Romance (Ballers Book 2)

by Mickey Miller

  He sighed, and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “It’s not that. I understand the basics of it and that a lot of people suffer from it and it doesn’t make you this freak or anything. But I guess I’d never wanted to deal with that directly, y’know?” he said, shaking his head and looking off, lost in thought again. “A lot of the case studies dealt with the emotional turmoil for the patient and their families… I just knew right away that that side of psychology was way more then I wanted to deal with and it just didn’t interest me all that much.” He gave a one-shouldered, casual shrug and looked at me. “I mean, there are other reasons too but my interest has always been more on the behavioral and social side of psychology.”

  The emotional turmoil. Yeah. On me but on my family as well. My parents had never made me feel bad about my disorder. They’d actually felt like it was their fault when the reasons behind my depression were likely chemical. My disorder didn’t rule me but it was a part of me and my life, for good or for bad. Up or down. And not everyone could handle it, or wanted to and that was okay. That was fine. It just meant I couldn’t be more than just casual friends with Chandler. He wasn’t an ‘all in’ kind of guy and from this revealing discussion, my original instincts had been correct.

  At least, he didn’t think I was a freak, so that was something.

  With everything aired between us, I had no desire to continue this line of conversation. Ever. Chandler did understand, but he wanted nothing to do with that. With me. Not the real me, or all of me. I wasn’t worth all that complicated trouble and Chandler wanted the very opposite of troubled and complicated. I’d felt the need to hide my disorder from a lot of people in the past and it’d prevented me from getting too close because of reactions and explanations like the one Chandler had just given. I fully accepted my reality. I wasn’t going to try to lay my issues on someone who clearly wanted nothing to do with it—like I had mistakenly done with Scott. It just reminded me that I needed to be more guarded than ever.

  “How about this,” I proposed, forcing a smile and levity in my voice, and damn if I hadn’t sold it. “I’ll let you take me out as friends this Friday. Per the pact.”

  He eyed me suspiciously. “As friends?”

  “Yep. Within the friend zone boundaries,” I said, relief flooding through me. For once, I was thankful for his one-track mind. “Remember the list, our pact, okay? We both agreed to be friends.”

  Whatever he thought that was, it made him smile. Big. “If that’s all I can get, I’ll take it.”

  “Great!” I said brightly, and made a mental note to review my list, just in case Chandler found a way around any of the rules. “Now move, I have a day I have to crush.”

  However, I had to push him aside until he finally let me through. “Oh hey, and Squirt, I almost forgot to tell you one more thing.”

  I rolled my eyes and turned, letting his charm work on me because it was easier than feeling anything else. He spoke in a tone that was surprisingly sincere. “Your ass looks sexy as fuck in that dress. Have a great day.” He winked, turned around and walked toward the bathroom.

  I opened my mouth to say some kind of retort back to him, but nothing came out. I ended up whispering to myself, “Your ass isn’t so bad yourself. Too bad you are also an ass.”

  But he really wasn’t, and that was the problem.

  Despite my conversation with Chandler, I was choosing to not let it bring me down. Dad would be proud of me. Dr. Han, I’m sure, would say I’m making progress. While I didn’t like Chandler’s answer, he’d been truthful with me, whereas, I hadn’t. It was strange that I felt closer and even more attracted to him even though he’d made it clear to me that being friends would be the only way to keep that closeness intact. If that’s all I would get, I’d have to be okay with it and mean it. A part of me was okay with that because I was actually beginning to see him as a real friend versus my superficial friendship with Becca, or others, in my program.

  Surprisingly, at school, I felt so tuned in and relaxed that I actually understood what my Spanish teacher was saying today. I even added some to the discussion about Don Quixote. Every time he heard me, he seemed surprised that I was paying attention and contributing.

  After class, Becca and I sat on a bench in the sun to eat the lunches we had packed. The weather was perfect, a little warmer than expected and it was nice watching other students milling about campus. I dug into my backpack and pulled out my brown paper bag. Once I opened it, I saw that Doña Maria had given me a few pieces of classic Spanish tortilla with an apple. It was basic but delicious.

  “You’re like, in a good mood today.” Instead of grating, Becca’s Valley Girl intonation was really starting to grow on me. “What got into you? Good date with Mr. Spaniard last night, I’m assuming?”

  I smiled and thought about how this was the first pill-free day I’d had in quite some time, and I was feeling excellent, despite it all. I sat there, frozen in place for a few seconds when it hit that I hadn’t taken my pills because Chandler had interrupted my routine this morning. I mentally shrugged it off even though Dr. Han would be alarmed if she found out. Then again, she’d be just as alarmed about me drinking while on my meds but to be fair, I wasn’t trying to be irresponsible on purpose. Of course I’d get right back on my pill routine starting tomorrow morning. However, if I continued on a path of not taking them, then…

  “Uh, Earth to Amy,” Becca prodded, nudging me with a sandled foot.

  I gave a start and looked over at her. “Oh—ah…I actually bailed on the date,” I told her, barely recalling her question.

  She squinted. “Why?”

  I sighed. “The night just got a little weird, to be honest. And I didn’t feel well.”

  “What do you mean, ‘got a little weird’?”

  “I saw Chandler doing…you know.” I gave her a look. She gave me one back, almost egging me to say it. “On his bed, when he thought no one was around,” I said, keeping it PG since we were in public.

  Becca’s jaw dropped. “You saw Chandler Spiros shaking hands with Mr. Happy?”

  I burst out laughing. “He’d probably call it the five-finger shuffle.”

  Becca laughed too, and suddenly we were both laughing so hard that people were staring at us in the courtyard of the university as they walked by.

  “So how was the show?” Becca finally managed to ask when we had calmed down.

  “Let’s just say I didn’t hate seeing him do the five-finger shuffle.” I paused, reconsidering my words. “Well, to be more accurate, at some point he used all ten.”

  I would just leave out the little detail about how I felt inspired to join him.

  Becca sighed. “I’m so jealous you have him for a host brother. You were right to stay just friends with him though. In my opinion.”

  “Oh yeah?” I fished. “Why is that?”

  “He’s a major player,” Becca said, with all seriousness. “Biggest one on campus at UNC. I don’t think he’s ever had an actual girlfriend—nothing long-term, I mean. Just leaves a trail of girls with broken hearts.”

  “So he’s not a one woman type of guy?” I asked, but I’d already figured that out.

  “Hah! He’s the furthest thing from it.”

  “You know this first hand?”

  “Well, I heard from a friend of a friend who is a model.” Becca got real animated now. “A model! He went on three dates and they definitely hooked up. And then he ended it saying she was shallow!”

  “Was she?” I asked, digging into my lunch.

  Becca chuckled. “Are you trying to defend him?”

  “No, I just want to get the facts straight,” I said, but she was right. I was defending him. “It just sounds like hearsay is all—a friend of a friend said this and that?”

  Becca shook her head, her expression stern. “Trust me girl, don’t go down that path. I know he probably says things about how you’re so great, you’re pretty, blah blah blah. He’s smooth as ice. But he’s saying that
to another girl right now…”

  I knew she was right but it bothered me, to see one side of him at home, like I was seeing the real him and then to hear this, what was probably the reality. Still, I couldn’t help the things I was feeling for him. But instead of arguing with Becca, I took a big bite of my Spanish tortilla and chewed, saying nothing.

  “You know,” she went on, dramatically, picking at her salad with a plastic fork, “his nickname around campus at UNC is Casanova. And I heard a couple of basketball friends call him that when we went out on Tuesday night, so it sounds like a rep he plans on maintaining while abroad.”

  I replayed Becca’s words over in my head. Hearing her say it made him sound like the really shallow one when my opinion of him had begun to rise. But yes—he was a player and I couldn’t forget that either. Chandler and I could have a real conversation as friends, but my attraction to him was only deepening and that warred with the realistic side of me.

  He wanted me and I was flattered and frazzled by it. Logically, I knew Becca was right. He only wanted a night or a few nights and then he’d be done with me. In Spain, things had turned upside down. I shouldn’t want someone like Chandler because we had nothing in common and were only brought together by chance. I had to face the fact that for Chandler, him wanting to hook up was pure convenience, living in the same space.

  An anger welled up in me, and I instantly felt foolish for even thinking that I could be the one to tame him. Be special. I hadn’t even realized that I was trying to be some force that could change Chandler until now. The anger gave me some semblance of clarity. All he was trying to do was nail me then move on to the next girl. I’d known that since the beginning and that I wasn’t the one in control of this game. Chandler was, and he had years of experience. Just when I thought he might be okay, like saving me from that creepy guy at the bar, taking me out dancing afterwards, being around and talking with him—he ruined any good parts of him by pursuing me just to pursue me. I had to remember that he didn’t care about me and never would. I hated that it made me feel so hollow inside. At the same time, I’d just broken up with Scott, and while he wasn’t an ideal boyfriend, we’d been together for a while. I was feeling weak, lonely and I could probably use Chandler in a way that wouldn’t hurt him in the least. But I wasn’t built like that, screw some guy then move on. Just as I wouldn’t be able to change Chandler, he wouldn’t change me. I’d just be the one left wounded.

  “Changing the subject,” she continued, “what are you up to tomorrow night?”

  Just a friend date that I am currently considering canceling.

  “Nothing,” I decided, glancing over at her, “why?”

  Becca grinned wide. “Friday is my twenty-first birthday and I want to do something fun. Are you in?”

  “Totally,” I said, forcing all thoughts of Chandler out of my head. “What are the details?”

  Nine

  Chandler

  My sneakers screeched on the hardwood of the basketball court as I pulled up short of Le Ral, who was guarding me in practice today.

  “You can’t touch this, Le Ral. No chance.”

  “Keep talking, pretty boy,” he barked back. “You are not getting to the hole.”

  The Frenchmen was cocky as hell and I liked it when he guarded me because he toughened me up. He was a solid few inches taller than me, but my wingspan was longer than his and I was solid muscle. He, on the other hand, was more of a lanky type build.

  I faked left, then dribbled right. Le Ral was a half step behind me as I took off in the air and slam dunked the ball with authority. He jumped in vain to block me.

  “Fuck!” Le Ral yelled.

  I let out a primal yell. “Told ya I would get by you.”

  Coach whistled at all of us to a stop, clapping his hands a few times and said, “Fellas, let’s call practice here. Good work today.” He pointed to me. “Spiros, I don’t know what the hell you had for lunch today, but can you let us all know so we can get some of that? Thanks.”

  There were a few sniggers from the team but it had been evident today that I was on fire. I felt unstoppable, unbreakable. Even Tony Le Ral, who was a year older than me and sure to get drafted by either the NBA or signed by a Euroleague when the year was up, couldn’t do anything with me.

  I knew what had given me my razor edge, but I’d never tell: I was pumped up for my little friend date with Amy tonight. Even more so because I hadn’t seen her since our interesting conversation yesterday morning, which had been kind of off the wall but not in a bad way. I was looking forward to hanging out at home with her again last night but I’d had late practices and when I got home early evening, according to Maria, Amy had turned in early. Then this morning, she’d been gone before we could have breakfast together, which I wouldn’t have minded and having another oddball conversation.

  Sometimes you just know that you have an explosive chemistry with someone, and with Amy, that was the case. Ever since I’d first seen her, walking into the kitchen still half asleep and sexy, I’d wanted her. She had these tight, perky tits, and a great ass that I knew was going to feel absolutely amazing to grab. But these past few days had been enlightening. Usually, I just focused on the superficial and hooked up with girls that took a mutual interest in me. It didn’t go that much deeper. I didn’t really make any attempt to get to know them beyond the very basics. We didn’t have meaningful or off the wall conversations. We didn’t talk about ourselves in finite and uncomfortable terms. It was just very safe—especially for me.

  Amy wasn’t safe. She had fire, personality and she spoke her mind. I liked that. A lot. More then I thought I would. I was still inexplicably drawn to her even knowing she wasn’t a safe choice. Maybe if we weren’t living in the same space, I could be more casual but the more I got to know her, the more interested I became. Other girls hadn’t even blipped on my radar since Amy came into the picture. Nearly a week of foregoing sex was the longest dry spell ever.

  There was just one problem. She could admit a mutual attraction but continued to refuse to admit that we wanted each other like a couple of virgins on prom night. Convincing her to just relax and have fun with it was proving diffiult. She was almost as stubborn in denying me as I was about getting her into my bed.

  Since Tuesday, my head had been spinning, trying to figure out what Squirt’s deal was. What kind of girl stands outside your room—watching you in the most intimate thrusts of self love, saying her name—and then says that we were still going to be ‘just friends’?

  It put me on edge but taking my frustrations out in practice was apparently useful instead of distracting. I mean, what the fuck was up with this girl? A friend date? Was that even a thing? I am not the guy that girls friend zone. On the contrary, I’m the guy they put in the fuck zone.

  Plus, she’d left her panties outside the door for me. No way she hadn’t done that on purpose, which meant her little pact was nothing but a defense and not meant to be taken seriously, just as I’d thought. Was she really going to play pretend that she didn’t want me to give her the Chandler Spiros treatment for the rest of spring semester?

  She was only kidding herself if she thought she could hold out against me. Tonight, I would break down her defenses just like I broke down the defenses of any team that we played.

  I was up for a challenge. Hell, I liked a good challenge. Squirt was the best challenge I’d ever had. And what made her think that we couldn’t hook up for the next two months? She made it sound like it’d be a one-time thing. With her right next door, a ‘one-time romp’ would never happen.

  The team grabbed their stuff from the benches while the coaches and staff lingered behind. The university’s basketball court was regulation size and newly built, clearly catering to the influx of student athletes—specifically, basketball. And Spain was the epicenter of Euorpean basketball at the collegiate and professional level, with the sport’s major organziations headquartered right here in Barcelona.

  My athletic scholarsh
ip was even paying for this Euro Prep Program, which was organized by the European Basketball Academy, and geared towards USA college athletes interested in playing ball in Europe. But leaving UNC and during winter and spring semester when the season was just starting had not been easy. I wasn’t the star player and never would be but I was pretty damn good so my coaches had been fairly pissed at me. But the opportunity to study abroad, right now, had been too important to pass up. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do once I graduated—either redshirt and have another year to figure shit out and consider the NBA or skip that and maybe join the European league that a few of my teammates back at school had been talking about. It was another reason I’d come here, and I knew the language fluently because of my mom so it was almost like kismet.

  The guys razed me about my game while we all walked towards the locker room, especially Le Ral. While I was friends with all the guys on the team, Le Ral and I had become the closest and was making my decision about my basketball career that much clearer. He was already getting a lot of interest from teams in the Euroleague and would have his choice of teams to pick from. Tagging along with my new best friend might be fun since I had so little to really go back home to.

  After I showered, Le Ral and I chatted as we sat on the locker room bench while we toweled off.

  “You want to go out tonight?” he asked, giving me a look.

  “I would… But I have a date tonight.”

  He smirked, like he’d already known the answer. “Let me guess. With Amy, that short little ball of fire who was at the bar the other night?”

  “How’d you know?” I asked as I toweled off my hair.

  “A Frenchman knows when love is in the air.” He grinned. “I could just tell by the way shorty looked at you.”

  “She is short and also hot as fuck,” I replied, pulling on my jeans. I slipped a white t-shirt and light sweater over my head, tied my shoes, and stood up. I grinned, almost stupidly. “And she’s cool man. Way cool.”