by Sierra Hill
“Mica’s great. Not sure what else to say about it.”
Cade anchors his head in his hand, shaking it back and forth in comical defeat.
“You’ll never change, will you?” he laments, pointing his finger at me. “You are a loud-mouth chatty-Cathy when you’re drunk off your ass, but are a tight-lipped and solemn motherfucker any other time. Don’t we know each other well enough by now that you’d me something more than ‘she’s great’? Fuck, dude.”
Cade is right. I don’t share a lot about my life with anyone. It’s too painful. I guess that goes for talking about Mica, too. I’m so used to keeping things related to feelings and emotions bottled up, that I don’t share them with even my closest friends.
I avert my eyes hoping he won’t see the pain and truth lurking behind them. It wouldn’t do anybody any good if they knew my shitty past and history. It’s a story best left untold and kept hidden from everyone. Even my best friends.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You know more about me than anyone else. Maybe even more than Carver.”
“Bullshit,” he curses, seeing right through my lie. “You’ve only ever shown us what you want us to see. I don’t really know a thing about your life before you came to ASU. Between you and Carver, I don’t know who keeps a tighter lid on their lives. But now that I know about Carver’s, I’d say you’re the lucky winner.”
He salutes me with his glass and I glance away.
“My mom died last year,” I finally admit, turning back to face him. His expression goes from angry to ghost white in a flash.
And then sympathy floods his eyes. “Ah fuck. Shit man, I had no idea. Why the hell didn’t you say anything? When did this even happen? And how the hell didn’t we know about this?”
My brow scrunches in guilt. We were at an away game playing against Southern Cal when she finally passed away. At the time, it had been a week since I’d last visited her. She’d been moved from the hospital to in-home hospice and I was too busy to go see her.
Either that, or I was too much of a coward. And I didn’t want to face the man that deemed me unworthy of being his son. The son he put down every chance he got. The one he accused of killing his youngest son. That part was true, I guess.
Clearing my throat, I wipe the wetness that starts to leak from my eyes. I loved my mom and I miss her every day.
“Right before the championship tournament started. Last February.”
I see the wheels turning in Cade’s head. He’s sifting through his memories to see if he remembers anything out of the ordinary. But no, I kept it locked away. I didn’t tell anyone. Not even the Coaching staff. I just took a sick day to attend her funeral. Then I got rip roaring drunk and said my goodbyes. Fucked myself up, got myself laid, and put everything else behind me.
“I’m really sorry, man. I wish you would’ve told us. Are you okay? What about your dad?”
Anger that I didn’t even realize could be conjured just from the question, boils beneath my skin. My body heats up, my chest and neck become tight and itchy. I take another drink and wash away the hatred for the man who claims to be my father.
“He’s a fucking asshole and I haven’t seen him since the day we put her in the ground.”
Silence drowns out all the noise in the bar between us. Cade stares at me with wide, concerned eyes.
“Whoa…that’s fucked up man.”
At least with Cade, I know he understands. In fact, Carver would too. We’ve all dealt with some shitty father-son situations. But at least with those two, they’ve since reconciled and patched up their relationships. As for me and my old man, well, that will never happen. He will die despising me and vice versa.
I shrug and confirm the truth. “It is what it is. And as long as I can get through this final school year, then I can be done with him for good.”
The only connection I have with my Dad at this point is that he still pays for my tuition. Although, he continues to tell me that he can flip the tables on me at any point if he feels like it. So, it’s best that I just keep my distance from him and not give him cause to ruin my life and future.
As long as he doesn’t see me or is reminded about what a loser his son is, I’m safe.
“Anyway, there you go. Now let’s talk about some happier shit. Tell me what we’re gonna plan for your bachelor party when the time comes. We gonna do a road trip to Vegas?”
That just earns me a burst of hearty laughter from Cade which tells me I’m way off base with my idea.
Chapter 16
Mica
It’s been a few weeks now since the accident and the night I spent with Lance. I wouldn’t say that both incidents changed everything…but they kind of did.
My relationship with my sister has become tense and strained. She blames me for what happened to Alvie and I can’t say she’s incorrect. I am culpable. I let my focus drift that day and something bad happened. She still needs my help watching the kids, though, but now she calls to check in more frequently when she’s at work.
I guess I deserve that.
And then there’s Lance. I’ve been doing my best to stay busy and have worked to avoid him. Although that’s nearly impossible because he’s like some stealthy ninja, finding me when I’m most vulnerable and at my weakest.
To say I’m head-over-heels for him is an understatement. I try to deny my feelings, but they just keep bouncing back up to the surface any time I see his charismatic smile or feel the gentle touch of his hand against my cheek.
We’ve fallen into this friends-with-benefits type of situation. Although I’m on the fence on what I really want, it seems to be working for Lance. And honestly, I’m so busy that it helps to keep those lines clearly drawn.
The summer quarter is coming to an end and we’ve been studying for our finals which are a few weeks away. After that, we’ll head into our fall semester, and Lance will soon be gearing up for his last year on the basketball team. He’s continued to train throughout the summer and it shows in the definition of his body.
Dios mio. That man has an amazing physique. Lean, tall like a tree, built like a house. I’ve seen him completely naked four times since the first night and it never gets any less impressive. My mouth goes dry and all that wetness seems to trap itself between my legs.
It doesn’t help that right now his hand is idly stroking the skin on my upper thigh underneath the café table. We’ve been studying for the last forty-five minutes, sitting side-by-side, our bare legs touching and shifting against one another. It’s both erotic and calming.
“Hey, are you busy tonight?” he asks out of the blue, my head popping up from the book it’s been in. The one I’ve tried in vain to read and concentrate on but failing miserably.
I shake my head. “No, Therese doesn’t need me tonight.”
That’s because she doesn’t trust me anymore.
“You want to go over to one of my buddies’ house for a party with me?”
“Mmm. I don’t know. Which friends?”
He tilts his head, shifting in his chair to look at me. “Just some old high school friends. They’re good peeps. It’ll be fun.”
His warm breath is at my ear as he leans in. “And then we can have some real fun afterwards.”
Ugh. This is so difficult for me. I want to spend time with him and it makes me feel good that he’s inviting me out, but I also get uncomfortable around people I don’t know. Because I’m not like them.
Lance wouldn’t understand. He fits in everywhere he goes. People accept him and don’t judge him like they do me. When strangers look at me, I think they only see a Mexican immigrant. Someone who isn’t an ‘American’ like them and possibly here illegally. Even though it’s not true. I am an American. I was born and raised here, I just have different skin coloring.
Letting my chin drop to my chest, I avoid his eyes when I say, “I don’t know, Lance. I always feel out of place. I’m different than your friends.”
Apparently, this won’t
do. Lance turns my chair toward him and scoots me in, his legs wide to allow me room. Then he cups my face in his hands and in a very serious tone, gives me the ‘what for.’
“Of course, you’re different, Georgie. You’re smart and beautiful, and they’re all dumb fucking jocks.”
I laugh at his attempt to make a joke, but inside, it still stings knowing I’ll never fit in with any of them. Especially the girls in those groups. They all give me the evil eye like I’m some leper or counterfeit wannabe.
“Not true. Cade and Van are both smart and they’re jocks. And you’re smart, too.”
Lance waves a hand in the air like it’s a foolish thing to say. “Those two are anomalies. Plus, I doubt they’ll be there. These are friends from my old neighborhood. And as for me, if I were smart, you wouldn’t need to tutor me. I’m a dumb fuck.”
He kisses my nose and pulls back, but I grab onto his t-shirt to keep him there.
“Don’t say that about yourself. That’s not true and I won’t allow you to put yourself down like that. Everyone needs help sometimes. It’s just whether we can let our pride go long enough to accept the help.”
Lance’s response is to kiss me. Full on the lips, as I part for him and my tongue seeks his to express my feelings. To prove to him that he is good. And smart. And that he has my heart if he wants it.
That’s the thing I don’t know. Since we’ve slept together, he’s not mentioned anything about being exclusive or if he wants this to last between us. My guess is that I’m simply a summer fling and once the season starts back up again, he’ll pursue the hoops hunnies as they throw themselves in his path every chance they get.
While that will break my heart, I don’t expect anything else from him. He’s not beholden to me, plus, I can’t get involved in a relationship with him because I don’t want to choose a side.
Over the last few weeks, Lance has shown me a completely different side of himself when we’re alone together. He doesn’t have to put on an act like I’ve witnessed him do around other people. It’s like he wears a mask when with others. A false identity that displays this outer image of a goofy jokester, when deep inside he’s really a serious and sweet guy.
I’ve never asked him about it because I don’t want to upset him or rock the boat. Right now, we’ve been floating along on this placid and calm water, bobbing together in perfect happiness. I fear if I push something, all that we are will be pummeled by a crashing wave.
“Come on, Georgie,” he persists, giving me a pouty-lip whine. “I want you to be there with me tonight. I want to introduce you to my boys.”
I want to say no, but the pleading tone of his voice tells me he really does want me there. For what, I don’t know. But I don’t have the heart to reject him or turn him down. And maybe this will be good for us. Maybe it means we are boyfriend/girlfriend and he wants to introduce me to his neighborhood boys.
I capitulate and give in. “Fine, I’ll go. You probably just want a DD so you don’t have to worry about getting home.”
His grin is mischievous and wolfish. He leans forward and nuzzles my neck with his nose and mouth, placing kisses there that he knows drive me crazy.
“You know that’s not why. I want you there so I can haul you off in some deep, dark corner and have my way with you. So you can wear that hot little skirt you wore to the engagement party and I can hike it up and finger fuck your pussy against the wall. So I can make you come apart on me, with my arms the only thing keeping you from falling. And then I’ll fuck you and make you come again when my cock’s inside you.”
My eyes are closed tight and I know I’m not breathing. He’s stolen my breath with his incredibly kinky and very dirty words. I practically tremble from the implications of his descriptive fantasy and I know I want it, too. When I finally do take a breath, it’s in short pants and my legs clench together in anticipation of what he described.
And then I hear laughter coming from behind me. “Get a room, you two.”
Lance sighs but doesn’t move, even though I jerk away from him as if we’ve been caught by the naughty police. When I twist around, I see Tra’Von Matthews sauntering up behind us. He’s chomping on an apple and wearing a grin from ear-to-ear.
He fist bumps Lance and nods his head to me. We’ve never been formally introduced, but of course I know who he is. He’s just transferred from a school in Kentucky and will be the new starting sophomore point guard.
“Yo, dog. Wassup?” Lance asks casually as if nothing is amiss and he hasn’t just been getting all nasty with me. He slowly inches back into his seat so we have a slight modicum of decorum. A huge blush breaks out across my face as I realize how we must’ve looked to everyone around us as we made out like that in public.
I scoot my chair away, but Lance stops me with his hand. Then he yanks me from my seat and into his lap, his strong arms rounding my belly and holding me tight. Obviously, it’s an act of male territorialism and a caveman way of stating, ‘mine’, I have to admit I kind of like it. It’s possessive, yes, but I like the PDA and the fact that he’s making a statement about who we are to each other.
Tra’Von nods and looks down at us, cocking his head. “Seems like you’re having a good summer, bro. Who we got here?”
I’m not sure if he’s talking to me or just about me, but Lance pipes up.
“This is my girl, Micaela.”
I notice he introduced me using my full name and not Mica. I want to giggle, but instead I hold out my hand for him to shake it, but Tra’Von brings it to his lips, instead. Like he’s some courtly gentleman and I’m a lady in waiting. It’s kind of cute.
“Hello, beautiful Micaela,” he drawls, a faint southern accent in his voice. “It’s a pleasure. And when you get tired of this guy, why don’t you give me a call. Cause those rumors you hear from the ladies are true about me.”
He winks and Lance bats his hand away as I wonder what rumors he’s talking about. I haven’t heard any.
“Oh, you mean about your pencil dick?” Lance lobs over in jest. “Yeah, I’ve heard those too.”
“Fuck, bro. You’re just jealous talking shit you know nothing about. But the ladies know, don’t they?”
I look between the two of them and finally understand what they’re talking about and that they’re just messing with each other. Talking smack talk. But I blush at how crass they are and how they talk about their dicks that way. Must be a jock thing.
And then the conversation veers to the fall season and rivalries and various other basketball references that I kind of tune out because it’s not my thing. But soon there are spectators gathered around us, and a group of girls that begin swarming. I’m starting to feel a little uncomfortable and out of place, so I wiggle off Lance’s lap and begin gathering up my books.
As a lull takes over and Tra’Von is distracted by a gorgeous brunette who grabs his attention, Lance leans over to me.
“Sorry about this,” he nods, his hand gesturing to the intrusion. “So tonight? Can I pick you up at nine?”
Against my better judgment, I say yes. He smiles and kisses me goodbye on the lips as I make my way through the little crowd that’s gathered.
But as I clear the edge of the circle, I hear a female voice say, “Look at that ‘spic slut. Britton must be slumming it this summer.”
Tears cut at my eyes and I blink them away as I manage to push my way to the exit, sobs stuck in my lungs. When I push open the door and make my way outside, I’m blinded by the bright sun, the heat sizzling my skin like acid.
Or maybe that’s just the pain of those hateful words. Uncensored hatred from someone who doesn’t know a thing about me and only sees the color of my skin and has decided to unfairly judge me because of it.
Which is exactly why I fear attending this party tonight. It’s like Lance is blind to any of that, which he should be, but it doesn’t help me when I know what people see and think when they see us together. All they see is a woman of color who’s with a white college ath
lete and they accuse me of gold-digging because of who he is.
And that’s another reason why I need to break things off with Lance sooner rather than later. Because the longer I wait and the deeper I get with him, the worse it will hurt.
Even worse than the cuts the shiv from that girl’s slew of racist remarks caused my heart to bleed.
Chapter 17
Lance
After Mica left for class, I hung around and shot the shit with Tra’Von for a little while longer. He’s a cool guy and has so much confidence it oozes out his pores. And I know he’s not faking it like I am.
There’s no doubt he’ll make a great addition to the team this year and it’s gotten me excited about our chances to go to the tournament again and maybe even winning it this time.
But then again, we’ve gone the last three years and have always lost in the final rounds. Every ball player’s dream is to win a championship, and I’m hoping it could be our year. Official team practices won’t start until mid-October, but until then, we’ll begin informal training and drills in August when fall term begins. Nothing sanctioned or with the coaching staff, just the players, as we get to know the new recruits and players.
A draft of loneliness hits me as it dawns on me that Christian Lancaster and I will be the only returning fifth year seniors on the team this year. Everyone else in our class has graduated or been drafted. My two best friends having gone their separate ways and have found love in the process.
Maybe this will be my year, too, I think to myself as I step out of the shower and towel myself off. I’m already practically committed to Mica, although it isn’t official. But she must know I worship the ground she walks on. She is just an incredible girl and I want to make sure everyone around us knows she’s off limits and is mine.
Mine, mine, mine.
The jealousy roars like a beast within me. Had I not known Tra’Von was just busting my balls earlier with Mica, I would’ve taken him to the ground and beat him to a pulp for even thinking he could make a move on her.
