Hidden Gem Short Story Collection (9781301405985)

by Lee, India

  “I’ll be there for you. Me and Aubrey.”

  “Thanks,” Damian sighed, a quick laugh escaping his throat. “This is crazy. But I think I feel better.”

  “About Gemma? About your big decision? About life in general?”

  “Just better for now. Let’s take it one step at a time.”

  “Oh man,” Azura pouted. “I’ve never been good at that. That whole one step at a time thing.”

  “Well. We went from strangers to, I’d say, pretty close friends today. I just told you all these things I haven’t told anyone. So we did kind of skip a bunch of steps there. And if I wake up tomorrow and still feel the way I do right now, like maybe acting on all this advice you’re giving me, I’m pretty sure I’m going to continue needing your advice.”

  “And if after I give you all that advice anyway, and you still fail, I’ll give you a free copy of my latest album. Because you’ll need it.”

  “Thanks,” Damian replied, sheepishly.

  “Okay, I got one more thing though,” Azura said, holding a hand up like she was about to begin another one of her long, semi-inspirational rambles. Damian braced himself. “I gotta ask. What’s your deal with this chick, exactly? I mean, is she like crazy good in bed?” Damian laughed harder than he expected. He pulled up his t-shirt to cover his face, feeling his cheeks get hot.

  “Yeah, no,” he continued laughing. “That’s not it. Because she and I, we never...” Azura sat still, suddenly so quiet that Damian had to lift his head to check if she was still there. Her eyes were wide, genuinely stunned.

  “Whaaat…” she finally uttered. “Oh my God. This just got so good. Keep talking, keep talking.”

  ~

  Azura spent the night, reassuring him again that she promised to “be good.” Not that he was worried. She had probably lost interest in him pretty quickly, once the reality set in that he wasn’t the bad boy Lothario she thought he was. They talked in bed until she drifted off to sleep. Damian watched her as she lay there peacefully, looking almost innocent, wondering how many men would kill to be in his shoes. He thought about all the women that Pop Dinner had said he dated. About half the list was true to some degree, he had taken some of the women on dates and managed some short-lived pseudo-relationships with the others. And a good majority of them were in fact on the Maxim 100. But he didn’t categorize them in his head in the form of lists. They weren’t just conquests to check off as everyone seemed to think they were for him. They were undoubtedly beautiful, but he appreciated each girl as the individuals they were, remembering them for their favorite hobbies, their little quirks, their talents, interests, skills. There was no denying that he had indeed dated and ultimately, for lack of better words, dumped some of the most eligible single women in the world. But it wasn’t because he was spoiled by his fame and growing into some cold, hard-to-please person. If anything, he hadn’t changed enough at all.

  Had he had it his way, Gemma would have moved with him to Los Angeles when they were still in high school and they would have never been apart. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her this. He didn’t want her to think he was crazy. He didn’t want her to know that he thought this much about her. He didn’t want to ruin the amazing friendship they had by confessing to her that he had never, not for a moment, fallen out of love with her. But most of all, he didn’t want her to feel like he was trying to claim her for himself in any way. There were too many things in her life that had tried to do that, and it never turned out well.

  He wondered how many players in the past had avoided a city, just because of who might have lived there. Maybe he was crazy for thinking it would even be an issue at all. New York was a big place and he’d be traveling so much for his away games that it hardly mattered where he lived – right? He closed his eyes, finally ready for the question, ready for that trick his mother had taught him.

  Don’t think. First thing that comes to mind. Where do you want to be next season?

  But instead of the name of a city, he saw a flash of a familiar face. He saw her emerald green eyes. He saw her beautiful, rosy lips smile the smile that made his strong legs weak. He heard the warm laugh that came with every hug she gave him. He could smell the vanilla and lavender – her favorite color, her favorite scent. It was as if she was actually there, in his arms, sharing a bed together like they did that night in the shore house.

  He opened his eyes, taking in a deep breath. The vivid image of Gemma was gone. The warmth he felt, the sound of her voice, faded back into the low breeze and hum of the air conditioner. Damian blinked into the darkness, remembering what it was like to love Gemma with nothing in the way. Without Madison’s head games, without Lucas, without Los Angeles and UCLA and Nicki and Queen Bee and Tyler and everything that came between them. As long as he had known Gemma, the moments in which they had truly had just to themselves were fleeting. It was a tiny percentage of their relationship that was easy to dismiss. That was why he had trouble recalling their time together as anything romantic, even if he knew it was there. Even if he had felt it so deeply in his own heart. And Azura was right. He had held back all those years. But because he had to. And the first moment he had a chance to say something, he no longer knew how.

  And here he was, years later and finally presented with another chance. He would stop kidding himself and make the decision that he wanted, that he had always wanted. He would try, truly try to tell her everything that had been on his mind and in his heart. And if he failed, if she turned him down and he was stuck with a contract that kept him in the same city as her for years?

  He reached for his phone. Opening up his email, he gazed once again at his draft.

  Dear Gemma,

  I’m writing because I wanted…

  His fingers began flying about on his screen, suddenly typing words that couldn’t be pieced into a coherent thought just yesterday. Everything he had wanted to say to her for years, all the feelings he had worked so hard to suppress, were suddenly pouring out line after line.

  And at the end of the message, he felt a lulling peace. His heart hummed with quiet relief as he typed out his signature. Love, Damian.

  He stared at the word, thumb hovering over the send button.

  Love.

  Damian rested his head back against his pillow, looking at those four letters punched out against its glowing backdrop. He smiled as he shifted his touch to the other side of the screen.

  Delete Draft.

  There were some things that were better said in person.

  *****

  GAVIN

  Wincing at the brightness, Gavin groaned himself awake. Even behind closed eyelids, he could see the yellow-white glow of 7AM sunlight. It beat down on his bare skin, feeling closer than it should for someone lying in bed.

  Yeah. You’re not in your bed though, are you, dumbass?

  Gavin let one eye flutter open as the April breeze swept his body with goosebumps. He didn’t need a look around to know that he’d once again migrated outside in the middle of the night. Because sleepwalking onto a fiftieth floor balcony is always a good idea. Awesome, dude. Raking his fingers through his hair, he yawned, blinking until his green eyes focused.

  “Nice.” Bending his knees, he unstuck his legs from the woven canvas straps of the outdoor chaise. He figured he’d been sleeping on it since around three or four in the morning. According to the last girl, that had been approximately when he’d left his bed. “And the door’s open,” Gavin mumbled to himself, lifting his stiff neck off the chaise with another groan. Turning, he confirmed his suspicions of leaving the glass door to his living room wide open.

  Good job, he nodded before collapsing back onto the chair, paying no mind to the fact that he was out in the open and wearing just a pair of charcoal grey boxer briefs. Stretching out his tight muscles, he cracked a groggy laugh. His imagination was conjuring up the image of a dozen pigeons having snuck into his apartment overnight, flapping around in his living room and presenting some kind of horror movie scen
ario for the girl in his bed. He didn’t know a whole lot about her but he knew that she hated pigeons and her name had something to do with Christmas, according to the mental note in his head.

  And she was a fitness model. Easily the hottest of the three who had approached his table last night at Roué. Curves and ballet body aside, she had the type of long, beachy hair that his knees went instantly weak for. Those winning features were enough to help him overlook the baby voice that she too often dipped into. The cartoonish sound made him actually wince, but it had been hard to hear much in the club anyway. Plus, after leaving Roué, he’d had the pleasure of witnessing an awesome moment during which her princess-like air had been shattered. It had been while walking across Delancey to find a cab, when a pigeon had swooped less than a foot over their heads. Eyes bugging, the girl had immediately ducked, but instead of breathlessly squealing like Gavin had expected, she’d let out a deep and warbling, “Fuckin’ shitballs, holy shit!”

  It had been the sound of real fear coming from the back of her throat. Something guttural. Manly, almost. And though Gavin had laughed out of pure delight, she’d clasped her hand over her mouth and blushed deep red, immediately assuming her tiny voice again to whine, “Oh my God, so embarrassing! Shut up, Gav! Don’t laugh at me!”

  Man, that voice, Gavin shuddered as he recalled it.

  And just as he did, he heard it come from behind him.

  “What are you doing out here, silly?”

  He sat up, turning to see the girl leaning in his doorway, her brunette head sporting a pretty unmistakable case of sex hair. Hanging off one of her shoulders was his faded blue Knicks tee, the hem of which she twirled in her manicured fingers so that he could see a few inches of black lace panty. She would’ve been a vision from his dreams had he not just heard her speak like a tantrum-prone toddler. Gazing at her, Gavin gave himself a second to enjoy the image without any sound interference.

  “I, uh, sleep out here sometimes,” he finally answered.

  “In the winter?”

  “It’s spring.”

  “But like, even when you have a girl over?”

  Only when I have a girl over. “Yeah.” Gavin winced at himself. “Sorry if that’s weird.” He threw his legs over the side of the chair, ignoring the way her eyes feasted on his body the moment he stood. He was too busy thinking about how it was in fact weird that he sleepwalked onto the balcony every night he brought a girl over. It’d been happening for the past four months without fail and the weather wasn’t even nice enough for it to be anything remotely pleasant. It had begun in December, just as it had gotten snowy.

  And thanks to the habit, Gavin had spent the months of January and February with a cold that had forced him to miss All-Star Weekend and more importantly, its parties. Between his employment at Klein Sports Management and his friendship with the Western Conference starting point guard, Damian Evans, he’d had the most VIP of passes to every last event. But alas, he’d missed them all because his subconscious refused to share a bed. Or something. He couldn’t figure out exactly what it was since he’d slept through the night with other girls in the past. Prior to December, he’d been totally fine. It was a total mystery to him.

  “You sure that sleeping on the balcony isn’t like, a hint, Gav? ‘Cause maybe you have some fantasy about doing it out here for the whole city to see?”

  Gavin blinked at the girl. He didn’t need to drop hints when it came to sex and the balcony had seen various girls already, but he didn’t say any of that. He wasn’t an asshole. Not that kind of asshole, at least.

  “Actually,” he started seriously, trying to suppress the smile slowly twisting his lips. “I have always dreamt of doing it for the whole city to see.” He grinned as the girl cocked a suggestive eyebrow, starting a slow saunter towards him.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” Gavin watched her kittenishly bite the tip of her finger. “I bet they’d be like, ’Fuckin’ shitballs, holy shit!’”

  “Omigod, shut up!”

  That was more so the kind of asshole he was.

  “So mean, Gav!” The girl covered her blushing cheeks with her hands before spinning around and running back into the apartment. Gavin laughed, watching her perfect hips twitch from side to side as he jogged after her.

  “Hey. Come on.” He shut the glass door behind him once he got into the living room, the heat blasting his bare skin and fully waking him up. Stretching his arms above his head, he strolled after her, turning SportsCenter on along the way. “Don’t be embarrassed about that. I thought it was funny,” he said, following her up to his kitchen counter and pressing a kiss against the back of her neck. He felt her tense body promptly relax at his touch. Now would be a good time to remember her name, asshole. Something to do with Christmas. A plant.

  “Holly,” he exhaled, turning her to face him. He grinned when she looked up at him from under her lashes. “Seriously, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I thought it was funny yesterday. And cute, honestly. I liked hearing your real voice.”

  “It wasn’t my real voice. I was super scared and it just came out.”

  “I think that makes it your real voice then,” Gavin laughed, leaning her against the marble counter top. She giggled, squirming as his hands warmed themselves on the small of her back.

  “Nuh-uh,” she whined, going on the very tips of her toes to kiss him. Gavin studied her dark, sparkling brown eyes, her razor sharp cheekbones as she brushed her full lips against his. She really was gorgeous.

  “Don’t ‘nuh-uh’ me. Show me your real voice,” he murmured.

  She shook her head, taking his hands and guiding them to the front of her body, up her taut abs and over her breasts. “This is my real voice,” she insisted with an exaggerated pout, her sugary tone so child-like that it struck Gavin as suddenly more creepy than anything. It didn’t help that she was pushing her lower lip out more and more with each passing second. And… there goes the morning wood.

  “Alright.” Letting go of a sigh, Gavin gently removed his hands from her body. He ran them up his face and into his hair, avoiding her wounded look as he rounded the marble counter. “I’m hungry. I’m gonna make us some breakfast.”

  “What?”

  Despite sensing Holly’s glare from the corner of his eye, Gavin opened the fridge. With arousal zapped, food was quickly making its way to the forefront of his mind. Just looking at the bacon next to the carton of eggs made his stomach growl. He could hear it. Or maybe he was just trying not to hear Holly.

  “Have me for breakfast,” she whined, making little “mmph” and “hmph” sounds as he reached for the basil hidden in the back. “You can’t walk around half naked and not expect me to want round three,” she whimpered, waiting a few silent seconds before making another high-pitched “hmph” sound. “At least tell me what you’re thinking about. You’re so serious all of a sudden, talk to me.”

  Setting the components of his breakfast onto the counter, Gavin tried to think of a response, but he kept coming up empty. He was accustomed to having this part of the morning to himself since most girls stayed asleep after he awoke. It had been like that for the past year-and-a-half or however long it’d been since the breakup. Peaceful early mornings in the company of just bacon, eggs and sports. That was how he liked it, especially since he couldn’t seem to break the habit of hooking up with smoking hot girls whom he couldn’t carry a conversation with outside of the club. They didn’t have his humor. But then again, it didn’t feel like any people around him did. Good talks came rarely these days if they weren’t work-related.

  Holly heaved a sigh of disgust. “You’re such a fuckin’ asshole,” she finally muttered, breaking Gavin from his thoughts as she turned on her heel to head back into the bedroom. He blinked, realizing that he’d ignored her for too long. But he didn’t say anything because he suspected that she was getting dressed to leave and he didn’t want to impede on that possibility. Though despite hoping for it, he cooked a double portio
n of bacon and eggs. He was starving so he figured that she had to be at least a little bit hungry.

  He was on the couch by the time Holly emerged from his bedroom in the lace mini dress from the night before, appearing still flushed with vexation. Gavin pried his attention from the Warriors-Lakers highlights so he could eye her as she crossed her arms.

  “You know, one of my best friends slept with you in January.”

  Mouth full, Gavin blinked at her, unsure of how he was supposed to respond. Holly smirked.

  “She said you were on the balcony when she woke up, so basically, I just confirmed that you’re like, some kind of weirdo. I mean do you even like girls? Like, why do I have to throw myself at you?”

  Gavin stared at her. He was silent for a bit, trying not to look or sound exasperated.

  “You’re one of the hottest girls I’ve ever seen,” he said finally, watching her shoulders relax despite her hard expression. “I had fun with you last night. I just have to be at work soon and I’m stressed about all these player evaluations I didn’t do yet,” he lied. “I gotta get going soon so I can do some work at the office.”

  “Oh.” Holly blinked, her expression promptly thawing as she sighed and let her body crumple onto the couch. “God, I thought I only looked good when you were drunk or something,” she exhaled, giggling at herself. “Either that or you were gay.”

  “No.” Gavin shook his head, returning his attention to SportsCenter. “I’m only gay for this guy,” he said, nodding at the TV. Gavin eyed Holly as she stared at Damian’s post-game interview on the screen, her expression mixed with horror and confusion. He laughed, opening his mouth to explain the joke but deciding against it. There was no point.