by Sierra Hill
She’s been eying me all night, asking me every few minutes if I need anything or just trying to engage me in conversation. I’ve tried to tell her she’s wasting her time because I’m not in the mood for anything right now. Not basketball. Not school. And certainly not a hoops hunny.
All I care about is Ainsley.
Damn. I actually avoided thinking about her over the last hour until she just popped in my head again. Or maybe that’s the booze helping my brain to disengage. It’s been a long time since I’ve been this trashed. Not even on my twenty-first…ah fuck, there we go again. Ainsley. She was the reason I wasn’t over-the-top sloshed at my birthday party. But tonight I just wanted to shut all my thoughts off from the last two weeks. And Sailor Jerry is doing an admirable job at that.
The wave of media attention that’s pummeled me since the day of the press conference was annoying as fuck, and equally as daunting. It’s as if I’ve gone on a safari wearing a fresh meat vest and the lions (aka reporters), are descending upon me with the intention of tearing me apart limb by fucking limb.
The team’s media publicist, Jacqueline, did what she could to shield me from the spotlight, but the pappz hit me out of nowhere, regardless of time of day or where I am. One night, as I was leaving campus, I stopped by the 7-Eleven to pick up some water and power bars. As I came back outside, this guy comes running up to my car shoving a video recorder in my face. I nearly pissed my pants out of fright, he freaked me out so bad. I swear, he came out of fucking nowhere.
Everyone and their mother wants to know about all the gritty details of my run in with the law and if I feel like I got off too easy. Public opinion over my case is all over the board – mainly due to all the recent press about privileged white athletes getting away with murder, so-to-speak, when other non-white players busted for similar criminal acts are getting the book thrown at them.
Look, I screwed up, but it wasn’t criminal. It didn’t hurt anyone. And it wasn’t rape. Every time I hear about one of these rape cases my heart breaks for the victim. Why the hell do these things still happen? I mean, I’m a guy – I love women and I love sex. Sex is great and fucking awesome, but taking advantage of a girl, when she is not into it, is completely outside my understanding.
Guys need to take a step back and respect what their partner is doing. It’s one thing to think with your dick. I’ve obviously done that quite a lot in my past. But if she says no, or stops things from moving on to the main event, then the show’s over folks. End of the fourth quarter. That’s the buzzer. You don’t make a flagrant foul just to get some action.
While I’m raging over this issue in my head, I hear Lance once again yell over the noise.
“Griff! Come on…while we’re young, dude.”
My body protests having to leave the couch, but I need to take a piss anyway. As I shift in my seat, Sabrina leans into me, the swell of her half-exposed tits pressing in against my arm. Warm and soft and pliant. (Not gonna lie, my dick perks up in interest even if I don’t.)
She’s practically on top of me and I quell the urge to shove her cheap perfumed body away from me, but I can’t muster the strength.
“Griff…come back quick.” She whispers into my ear with a purr, soft and persuasive.
If we were sitting here two months earlier, I would ditch the idea of beer pong and lift her in my arms, drag her back to my room to get it on. But not now. Not when the mere idea of touching another girl after Ainsley makes me want to cringe with disgust.
My head tilts to the side as I look her over. She’s not bad – pretty long blonde hair falling in soft curls around her apple-round cheeks, bright blue eyes hopeful for what might come.
But they’re not the blue eyes I want to look into.
I don’t want to be a dick, but I do need to correct her assumptions about what is going to happen. In other words, it’s not going to happen. I cup my hands around her cheeks, giving her what I hope is a charming smile, and try to let her down easy.
“You’re a great girl, Sabrina. But I’m not the guy for you tonight. Sorry.” I place a quick kiss on her cheek, just as my eyes lock with a very recognizable pair of sapphire blue eyes. The one’s I’ve missed for weeks. And right now they are staring at me with a butt load of hurt, pain, and question – all three that I unintentionally put there.
Fuuuuck.
My body jerks away from Sabrina so fast it nearly gives me a case of whiplash. I drop my hands like her face is a burning inferno, a confused expression appearing across Sabrina’s face, which I don’t acknowledge it. I don’t have time.
Ainsley loses her balance and stumbles backward, her body bouncing like a pinball between people on either side of her. My feet hit the floor and I sway ever so slightly. My drunken state is not conducive to running after the girl I love. The world spins a little, as I’m forced to close my eyes for a second to gain my balance. When I open them again, she’s disappeared. But I can see the front door open and shut, and know she’s made her escape outside.
The guys are yelling for me again, but I dismiss them with a wave of my hand, as I run after her.
It’s like a maze trying to make my way outside, spinning around two girls who stand near the door, red solo cups in hand. I mumble an apology as I’ve accidentally bump one of the girls’ arms, so her hand goes flying, beer spilling over the other girl’s mini-dress. She gives me a “watch it, fucktard”. Guess I’ll be paying for that later.
My mind races as I head out the door, swiftly glancing to the right and left trying to lock down Ainsley’s whereabouts. It’s dark outside, only a few overhead street lights illuminating the parking lot of our complex. I know she didn’t drive, since she doesn’t have a car, so it’s unlikely she’s heading into the lot. I immediately start walking toward the main street. Fuck, she took the bus again. Damnit. I hate when she has to use public transportation at night. It’s unsavory and unsafe.
My legs start to sprint as I see the shadow of a shape about twenty yards in front of me.
“Ainsley!” I bellow, hoping not to wake up any neighbors. We’ve already received one citation and warning earlier this school year for our loud, ruckus behavior.
I don’t expect her to stop and am stunned when she does, her back still facing me. Taking the opportunity that luck has provided me, I hightail it over to her standing form. She doesn’t move an inch. Doesn’t turn around. Doesn’t speak. I approach her with caution.
I softly call her name again, now only a few feet away. It’s only a whisper – or more like a drunk whisper. Her name is said in the form of a prayer. With gentle reverence. With hope. I’m about to drop to my knees and wail in both joy and relief.
“Ainsley. Oh my God, you’re here. Don’t leave. Please.”
There’s silence now; surrounding us – establishing the distance recently created by our break-up. Inching closer until I’m close enough to reach my hand out to touch her shoulder, I hear a sharp intake of breath. A silent sob. Wait, it is. She’s crying.
It’s faint, but I know the sound. I’ve heard it enough in the dark when I lived at home and my mom would cry. It broke my heart then and it’s tearing me apart now.
Without thinking, I reach for her, placing my hands upon her shoulders, turning her to face me. She doesn’t resist, her eyes are closed tightly, either to block me out or to steel herself against the tide of emotion.
“Fuck, baby. I’m sorry. What you just saw in there, nothing was happening, I swear. Nothing was going to happen. Please believe me.”
Ainsley sniffs and shakes her head, the tears now streaming down her face. The idea that I could make this strong, confident woman cry guts me. Slays me like a fucking knife. Right in the heart.
“Please, come sit down with me,” I whisper, ushering her over to a bench in the small park on the apartment property. There’s a street lamp overhead and it sheds a soft glow across her achingly sad face. I’ve caused this and I want to eliminate it. Remove it from her beautiful soul. I don’t blame her fo
r being upset over what she saw between me and Sabrina. It probably looked damning from that angle.
My hand trembles as I reach for hers, which she placed in her lap. The first touch of her warm, soft skin has my chest filling with an emotion I’ve never felt before. It’s like my heart is the big, vast empty swimming pool, like the ones in the California drought in the seventies – the ones I’d seen in a documentary I watched once on the Lords of Dogtown. They used these empty pools as their skate parks and playgrounds during that drought year.
My heart has been a dried up pool during my absence from Ainsley. It was just an empty space, nothing to fill it with. It’s amazing, though, that the minute she’s back in my arms, it’s like the heavens have opened up, flooding my soul with happiness.
“I’m so sorry, Ains. That wasn’t at all what it looked like. I wasn’t with that girl. I swear.”
She lets out a noise that’s something between a snort and a maniacal laugh. “That’s so cliché. The whole ‘We were on a break’ excuse....” Ainsley uses air quotes, shaking her head with a sad smile, before returning her gaze to me.
I can’t let this go. Can’t let her think that Sabrina and I were going to do anything. I may be drunk, but I was not going to sleep with her. That’s not what I want anymore. I haven’t wanted another girl since the moment I met Ainsley.
“Seriously, Ains. I was just trying to break the news gently to Sabrina that I wasn’t into her. She’d been hitting on me all night. I just wanted to be left alone with my rum.” I think I slurred the last few words, my tongue already feeling the hair of the dog. God, tomorrow morning is not going to be fun.
She takes a moment to look me over, evaluating the validity of my statement. I feel like I’m on the witness stand telling the world that ‘I did not have sexual relations with that girl.’
“Cade, I understand. Even if you were with her tonight before I got here, I have no reason to be angry or jealous. I was the one who ended things. I’m the reason we’re not together. Well, or at least…”
I grab her hands, maybe not as gently as I should, but I’m emphatic that she understands me and what I need to say.
“No, you’re wrong. I’m the reason you made the choice to break up, and I’m so fucking sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. I was just so scared to tell you the truth because I thought you’d leave me. And by keeping it from you, it happened anyway. You mean the world to me and the last person I’d ever want to hurt. I’ve missed you so goddamn much, Ainsley, it’s killing me. I can’t let you go. I don’t want anyone else in the world. You’re it for me, Ainsley. No one else matters…it’s you who has my heart, baby…and I don’t want it back.” I give her a tentative smile. “But I do want you back…and I want to be more like you.”
Ainsley lets out a little laugh. “More like me? In what way?”
Stroking a thumb over her knuckles, I tilt my chin up and smirk. “You’re a good person, Ainsley. You treat people with kindness. Even when things have been hard for you, you have this quality – an inner light – that makes people love you. Everyone who meets you, loves you.”
“Oh my God. You make me sound like Mother Theresa or something. And I’m hardly a saint.”
“Maybe not…but you’re an angel.”
This makes her laugh, which I fucking love. It hits me then that she’s sitting here with me. Not that I’m not absolutely grateful that she is, but I don’t even know why she showed up tonight. I hope it’s that she wants to give us another try. That she wants to forgive me for my stupidity and give me another chance. God, I pray that’s why she’s here. Or maybe she’s going to break my heart all over again and tell me once and for all that we’re through.
“Ainsley,” I start, then falter. I’m not sure I really want to know, now. Hearing her say goodbye again would send me in a tailspin. Fuck, I don’t know if I could take that.
“Yeah?”
“You’re here.”
She raises her eyebrows, giving me a smirk that suggests I’ve just made a dumbass comment.
“You’re a little slow on the uptake tonight, Griff. But yeah, I’m here.” She tentatively swipes underneath her nose.
My hands have a mind of their own and can’t stop from reaching over to touch her cheek. My thumb strokes the soft skin just under her jaw and she automatically leans into it with a sigh. This seems like a good sign.
“I’m glad you’re here. You’ve made me so happy just seeing you tonight. But is there a particular reason you are here?”
My fingers slide through her hair, sighing at the silky texture of it, as it cascades down and over her shoulders. I might have a slight case of whisky dick because of the copious amounts of rum I’ve ingested tonight, but damn if my cock doesn’t jump against my zipper at expression across her face. The tears have dried and she lets out a sweet sigh of contentment as I continue threading my fingers through her strands.
“I was invited.” She states, without further elaboration.
She was? By who? Only Lance and Carver knew about the party before tonight.
The question must be written across my face, or I said it out loud, because she answers it immediately.
“Lance invited me. I saw him earlier today in the quad. He mentioned that I should come over tonight to talk to you. That maybe I should consider forgiving you.”
Huh. I didn’t think Lance even gave a shit about my break up with Ainsley. It’s not like we’ve talked about it a lot, ‘cause we’re guys. But it’s not a secret that I’ve had my head up my ass the last few weeks and have been pretty down in the dumps over losing her. Perhaps he was getting tired of my constant moping and drinking – which a guy does when he thinks he’s lost his girl.
And I did believe I’d truly lost her. When a girl doesn’t return your calls, your texts and avoids you at all cost, that’s generally a pretty good indicator that she thinks you’re a piece of shit, and no chance in hell you’re going to get back with her.
Lance is my hero. I want to run back to the house and give him a bro-sized bear hug for doing me this solid behind my back. First things, first though. Before I go thank Lance, however, I want to kiss Ainsley. I want to linger in her sweet fragrance. To taste the salt from her tear-stained cheeks. To sip at her puffy, swollen lips and make them mine once again. She is mine.
I stop myself before I lean in and reacquaint my mouth with hers. We still need to talk.
“Take a walk with me, Ains. I want to talk.”
I present her my outstretched hand and pull her up to her feet. Most of the booze in my system dissipated with the adrenaline rush of seeing Ainsley again, but my stance is still a bit wobbly, so I lean into her for support. It feels good to be touching her again.
Ainsley drops her head toward the ground, her long hair falling over her shoulders, as she kicks a loose rock on the sidewalk. We walk in the direction of a small park down the street, the sounds of the party slowly growing more distant.
I’m surprised when Ainsley speaks first, her sassy playfulness exactly what we need in this moment. Her positive attitude always amazes me. Most people, if given the hand she was dealt, would be sour-assed motherfuckers with a penchant for mayhem and self-destruction. Yet Ainsley has a way of turning lemons into lemonade when faced with adversity.
“I don’t suppose you’ve watched the news lately?” She giggles. I fucking love that sound. And I love that she can make light of the situation, starting off this long-overdue conversation with some levity.
I nudge her shoulder with mine as we continue to stroll, hand-in-hand, down the sidewalk.
“Oh, you mean have I heard all the salacious gossip about that hot, ASU basketball player? And the trouble he got himself into?” I slap my hand over my mouth in feigned shock and then make a tsking noise. “I may have heard a thing or two.”
I turn to look at her, and as expected, her lips quirk up into a knowing grin and she rolls her eyes.
“Seriously, though. That was a colossal fuck-up, Cade. I can’t s
ay I’m not a little disappointed in you. What if you would have driven that night? You could have gotten in an accident and hurt yourself. Or worse, been killed or hurt someone else. I thought you were smarter than that.”
Without warning, I come to a complete stop and the momentum snaps her back like a human rubber band.
I want to come clean and make my apology count. While it’s true, that night I was definitely not thinking with anything but my dick, that’s not who I am any longer. Nor who I want to be. Ainsley’s influence over me has made me realize that.
“Ains…listen to me. I made a huge mess of things. I thought I was invincible and couldn’t be touched. It was a stupid move, but you have to know me by now. I would have never driven in my inebriated condition that night. I was behind the wheel, yes, with the key in the ignition, but I wasn’t going to drive and I never planned on it. I’d never put anyone in jeopardy like that. You have to believe me.”
Taking a moment to consider my sincerity, Ainsley tilts her head and bites down on her luscious lip. What I wouldn’t give to suck on that lip right now.
“I know.” She says in a small voice.
Relief is fast, flooding me with a powerful urge to wrap her in my arms and never let her go. And just as fast as it pours through me, it’s gone with her next question.
“But why didn’t you ever come clean with me before now? I guess that’s the part that hurts the most and what made me break things off with you. I don’t know that I can trust you now. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”
Ah fuck. That’s what I was worried about. Ainsley doesn’t trust easily to begin with. I’d made such good headway with her up to that point, and snap. Just like that, it’s gone.
Cupping her jaw, my thumbs caress the soft skin along her jawline. Her mouth puckers and her brows narrow with a pained grimace.
“If I could have a do over, everything would be different.” I feel my shoulders deflate, my forehead pressing gently against hers. “I’d change everything about that night. I would’ve stayed home and studied, and not given in to peer pressure to go out. I would’ve resisted the urge for a quick hook up. And I certainly wouldn’t have gone out to my car with that girl.”
