by Sierra Hill
“For the record, I was at a friend’s birthday party. There wasn’t any debauchery, much to my dismay, and no fist fights. I doubt you’ll see any naked photos surfacing, either. But it would’ve made a helluva story.”
My dad and I have a contentious relationship. We’ve had many heart-to-hearts (aka screaming matches) over this topic. He’s tried to get me to see that his intentions are far from malicious, but rather, based on the fatherly need to care for his son’s future. To ensure that I don’t end up trapped in a life that would ruin me from my true potential.
My thoughts on that subject? He had no fucking right to make a unilateral decision that affected me without my consent. Without my knowledge. And without first learning of the love that I had for Logan.
We were young – I get it. I was heading to college with the doors wide open to possibility. Being saddled with a girlfriend and a baby wouldn’t have been ideal. But I know myself. I would’ve done right by her. If anything, she wouldn’t have had to go through it alone.
And I wouldn’t have turned into the man I am today.
“Dad,” I say, plopping myself down on the frayed and tattered couch in Joel’s small living room. It looks like it’s seen better days – like back in the 80’s. “I’m up here getting away from that scene. Trust me. I needed a break.”
Which is true. Everywhere I go in Tempe I’m bombarded with fans. Guys looking to hang with a future NBA star (that’s what SportsTime said in their article about me earlier in the spring); young kids who look up to me and want my autograph; jersey chasers and hoops hunnies who want to say they slept with an athlete.
Don’t get me wrong. I’ve enjoyed the ride. It’s been my pleasure bus – great for my ego and a celebrity cruise for my cock. I’ve been with loads of girls – sometimes two at a time – and getting my rocks off like I was a king. Believe me, it’s good to be king.
Until I ran back into Logan again, I hadn’t realized the torment I’d been dealing with. The feelings I’d stuffed down like the material in a Build-a-Bear, the ones that I’ve chosen to avoid, along with any real connections. It takes a man to acknowledge that he suffered the pain of heartbreak. I was eighteen, and I used that pain to become a nationally ranked college ball player.
But as they also say, it’s lonely at the top. My circle of friends was tight – only my teammates and Lance and Cade. Outside of that, no one got close.
My father sighs heavily over the connection. He’s probably sitting in his brown leather overstuffed chair in his library office, all my trophies and sports memorabilia mounted across the wood-paneled walls and shelves. If it’s one thing my father is, it’s proud of my achievements. I do love him for that. It’s the way he managed my life without asking me what I wanted that broke our relationship.
“I can appreciate that, son. It just would have been nice to know you were here. Your mother would love to have you home for a while. You’re her only child.”
Okay, that’s unfair. My mom is a good mother and if she finds out I’m in Seattle without calling or visiting, she’ll be crushed. Now I feel like a shit.
Picking at the thread of the worn seat cushion, I consider my options.
“Fine. Does she still host Sunday dinners?”
“Of course,” he replies, sounding hopeful.
“I’ll be there. And have her set an additional plate. I’m bringing...a friend.”
Maybe it’s a way for me to get back at my father for what he did to Logan and me, but there’s a small part of me that can’t wait to see his expression when Logan walks through his front door. It’s me giving him the middle-finger - a ‘fuck you’ for trying to keep us apart. But we’re still here. We managed to find our way back to each other.
Whether Logan wants to come is another story. She may very well give me the finger and want nothing to do with my parents. Who could blame her?
“Any friend of yours is a friend of ours, son. We’ll look forward to it. We’ll see you tomorrow night at six o’clock. Until then, stay out of trouble, will ya?”
I chuckle, knowing once he sees Logan, he’ll want to eat his words.
Now I just need to get Logan to agree to come with me.
****
I spent the rest of the afternoon following up on the phone calls I owed everyone – including my agent. Then I called Cade. I wanted to find out how his graduation party went last night and if Ainsley accepted his proposal.
He answers on the second ring. “Yo, Edwards!”
“Hey, bruh. You sound awfully chipper, so it seems things went according to plan. Or maybe you went down in flames and realize twenty-two is too young to get suckered into marriage,” I cackle, throwing in that punch. I’m just goading him. He knows it.
“Eh, fuck you, C. It was epic. Ainsley had no clue I was going to propose. I was fucking stealthy as hell.”
I find this hard to believe. Cade’s a loud-mouthed, chatterbox who can’t keep a secret to save his life.
“Riiigght.” I say with enough sarcasm to sink a boat. “So, how’d it go down?”
Before I left for my trip to Seattle, I apologized profusely to Cade for missing out on his party. I really do feel bad for not being there for my best friend’s monumental moment, but I needed time away to clear my head. My life is about to change in a big way in the next few weeks and I needed to prepare for the unknown.
Cade starts prattling off a bunch of details about the party. “I wanted to keep the actual proposal private, ya know? So I asked Ky and Van to get everyone back in the house at five o’clock so it was just Ains and me out on the patio. She honestly didn’t even notice because I got her talking about one of her new patients.”
I laugh along with him knowing how much Ainsley loves to discuss her work. She’s a CNA in an assisted-living facility where she gives her heart and soul to her aging and elderly patients. She’s a good catch for Cade.
He continues, “Then I got down on one knee, my hand in my pocket with the ring and she finally notices everyone peering out of the glass doors and windows, watching the scene go down. I gave her my spiel that I’d been practicing for weeks and still wound up fucking it up...but she got the gist of it. Started crying and then I got all choked up and shit. Fuck, man. I think I was more nervous in that moment than I was at any of our championship games! My hands were shaking, dude. I looked like a chump.”
“You are a chump, Griff. A stupid, fucking, love-struck idiot. But don’t leave me hanging. What’d she say?”
Cade laughs at me like I’m the idiot. “Dude, she said yes, of course.”
“Uh-huh.”
There’s no doubt Ainsley’s in love with Cade, but she’s a very independent and strong chick and has proven she doesn’t need a man to take care of her. If anything, it’s the other way around. Cade doesn’t realize it, but he’d been waiting for someone like Ainsley for a long time.
It makes me wonder about Logan. She’s gone through a lot on her own over the years. Even as a fifteen-year-old girl, she knew her own mind and didn’t need a guy – especially a guy like me – to prove that she was worthy. She knew – knows – herself. Has a confidence that blows me away. Sucks me in to her orbit, like the Earth revolves around the Sun.
“Ainsley was stunned when I popped the question, and there was a second – maybe a nanosecond – that I thought she might say no. But she said yes, bro. I’m getting fucking married!”
Oh Jesus. Here we go. The beginning of the end. My first friend to walk the plank. I love Cade like a brother, but I don’t see why he’s rushing into this whole life-time commitment thing. It seems insane to me. To tie yourself down when we’re this young for the rest of your fucking life? No, thank you.
Instead of voicing all my inner thoughts on the subject, I just say, “Congrats, bro. I’m happy for you and Ainsley. You two are great together. And I can’t wait to plan your bachelor party. It’ll be off-the-hook.”
It hits me then. Maybe my feelings toward Cade’s pending marriage vows is exac
tly how my dad felt about Logan and me. That we were too young to know our own minds or to realize it then, but having a baby that young wasn’t the right thing at the time.
The only difference is that he jumped in and took that decision out of my hands without giving me a say. While I disagree with Cade’s decision to get married, I still support him and I’m not about to ruin it for him.
Maybe I need to let bygones be bygones and forgive my dad. Learn to accept that we are where we are because he did what he thought was in my best interest at the time. I consider this for a few minutes. It all depends on how things go tomorrow night at dinner.
Before that happens, though, we have our date.
I say goodbye to Cade and pull up Yelp to figure out where I’ll take her tonight.
It’s a new feeling for me – this excitement and nervous energy when I think about spending time alone with Logan. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known, yet she’s still nearly a stranger to me. The kisses we shared today only solidified the fact that we still have the chemistry.
I wasn’t kidding when I told her I wanted more of that with her. But I also want to get to know everything about her - who she is and what she wants. Where she wants to go in her life.
And hopefully find a way for me to tag along.
Chapter 13
Logan
I haven’t been this nervous since I took my board exams a year ago.
My palms are clammy, my pits are sweaty and my tummy is churning like the heavy-rinse wash cycle.
My behavior is ridiculous. Although I’ve remained single, I’ve been on plenty of dates in the last few years. I’ve even slept with guys if the feeling struck. I’m not a novice at this. But none of them get to me the way Carver does.
Dissecting my feelings toward him is difficult. It could just be nostalgia – the lingering emotions I hold that stem from first love. Or it could just be the man I’ve gotten to know in the last forty-eight hours.
Carver’s changed so much, yet is still the same boy I knew from our summers. His body is far more muscular and massive than it was at eighteen, that’s for sure. I’ve never felt biceps that big before. They were like giant tree trunks and my two hands couldn’t even close around his arm.
After dropping him off earlier, I was so exhausted from our hike, that I crashed for an hour-long nap the minute I got home. Sometime during that hour, I had the most vivid, sexually explicit dream that I’d ever had. I woke-up with an ache between my legs.
The dream was the two of us, holding each other in the lake. His strong arms were wrapped around me, pressing me into his body, and my hands were on the length of his back, sliding up and down the sinewy, wet canvas. The next thing I recall is that we were naked under the waterfall and I was licking drops of water from his naked chest.
My body reacted so strongly – so viscerally – that my hand was already between my legs when I was startled awake. Realizing I was on the living room couch, I had to glance around the empty room to make sure I was alone.
God, how embarrassing would that have been to be caught masturbating in my sleep?
Thankfully, I was alone in my apartment, panties wet from the flood of excitement that passed through me while I slept.
Throwing the blanket from my legs, I decide to get up and shower, ignoring the lingering need tingling through my body to get myself off. It would be easy to just relieve the tension using my own hand or the shower head, but achieving a release as an outcome of a dream about Carver would only solidify my desire for him. And to be honest, I don’t know if I want that.
Just because I enjoyed my day with him, and the fact that he’s easy to be around, easy on the eyes, and easy to talk to doesn’t mean I want to fall for him again. And the closer I get to him, the more likely I’ll be to rehash our history together.
I’m not willing to open up and recount all the low points in my life with Carver right now. How it felt to learn about my pregnancy; to be ostracized from my family and home; to have a bastard child and then give him up for adoption without the support of family or friends.
In retrospect, I should have told him that I had plans tonight. Made up an excuse so I could avoid spending more time with him. There’s no reason to continue hanging out with him this weekend. This thing between us is going nowhere.
Carver hasn’t mentioned it yet, but I know he’s entering the draft in June. All the sports pages are talking about it – and all the local news stations have done stories on Carver because he’s a hometown boy. Carver has a future as a big NBA star ahead of him, and will have throngs of groupies following him around. Women who want to get into his bed. It’s what Carver wants.
So I should shut this down now, before I get hurt.
Then again, why not just have a fun weekend with him? I have no other plans for the three-day weekend and I don’t work on Monday. Ali’s gone. Most of my other friends are out of town. I’m an unattached, single girl.
I finish up my shower and wipe away the steam that’s accumulated on the bathroom mirror when I hear Ali’s voice coming from the front room. She must be talking to Troy because I hear a deep male voice rumble with laughter. Ali is giggling like a schoolgirl, which is rather uncharacteristic of her.
I tuck the corner of the towel a little tighter between my boobs and step out of the bathroom, quietly tiptoeing around the corner to see what’s going on.
I’m stunned when my eyes land on a very familiar pair of latte-colored irises. Holy shit. Carver is standing in my living room, whooping it up with my roommate. And he’s an hour early for our date. What kind of parallel-universe is this?
Forgetting all about my attire, I step into view and clear my throat to gain their attention.
Wrong move.
Carver’s head pops up and his eyes slowly rake over me with a look that I can only describe as unfiltered desire. My knees may even wobble a bit. My stomach does an Olympian-sized flip.
Having Carver’s lust-filled eyes peruse me from head to toe is unnerving. But makes me feel insanely good. The way he makes me feel is better than chocolate-caramel ice cream. Better than a hot bubble bath on a cold, dreary Seattle night. Just better than anything else I know.
I don’t miss the dimple that makes an appearance as the corner of his mouth tips up into a smirk.
I stammer like I’m drunk, “Uh...Carver? Ali? What are you two doing?”
Good one, Lo. Way to get control of the situation.
Ali whips around and smiles a cat-that-ate-the-canary smile. “Hey, Lo. I was just chatting with Carver, here. He happened to be outside our apartment waiting for you when I came home to grab some things. Since I didn’t get a chance to meet him last night at my party, we’re just getting to know each other.”
She prattles this off like it’s no big thing that he’s here. Then she giggles and covers her mouth with her hand. “Well, according to Carver, we actually did meet last night, but I don’t remember. I may have been a teensy-weensy bit drunk.”
She pinches her index-finger and thumb together and winks, turning back to Carver and grabbing him by the shirt to drag him over to the couch.
“Carver was just telling me about how you two know each other. Small world, don’t ya think? And that he’s here to pick you up for your date.”
I glare at Carver, his grin just growing wider. Asshole.
Hot asshole.
Ali’s like a little pit bull when she wants to be, and will find a way to uncover any and all information about him. How we know each other. Who he is to me. Why I haven’t mentioned him before.
I know my friend. She will persist until she finds out every dirty detail of my former relationship with Carver. By retelling our story, I’ll need to decide if I’m going to leave out some critical pieces of information – lies of omission – about our shared history.
For the moment, I go with nonchalant.
“Carver and I met at summer camp when we were kids. I guess you could call us old friends.”
/> Carver crosses one leg over his knee, cocking his head at my declaration. In that instant, I know he’s going to blow my cover.
“Old friends, are we?” He says with a hint of battle-ready sarcasm.
Ali’s head turns back and forth between us, her eyes growing wide with interest, then lands back on Carver.
“I’d say we’re a little more than friends, wouldn’t you, Lo?”
I’m still standing there in the middle of the hallway in my towel, wet hair dripping water droplets down my back. Carver’s eyes slide over me licentiously and I drop my gaze to the ground in embarrassment, folding the towel in tighter at my breasts.
The need to run and hide in my bedroom – to bury myself underneath a mountain of pillows and blankets – is overwhelming. At the very least, I should go change so I’m decent. But I fear leaving him alone with Ali. I know she’ll get the truth, and Carver will go along willingly.
“Oh really...” Ali bellows, jumping up and down on her knees on the couch like an excited toddler. “I want to know all about it.”
“I’m sure you do.” I scowl in protest.
She sticks her tongue out at me, her lips pursing into a bratty duck-lip face, as she shoos me out the room. “You!” she admonishes. “Go get your ass dressed. You’re making a slutty spectacle of yourself. In the meantime, Carver will give me all the sordid details.”
I watch with a tinge of jealousy as she places her small hands around his forearm, cuddling into him like he’s an overstuffed Teddy Bear.
“Hurry up, Lo. Do as she says and we can be on our way. I have a fun night planned for us.” He winks at me boldly and returns his attention to Ali.
“She was my childhood crush. Well, actually, Lo was my first love...” he begins and I groan, covering my ears like a child as I stomp off toward my bedroom.
I hesitate in the doorway for a second when I hear the last audible words before I shut the bedroom door behind me.
