But to me, I’d always just be the girl no one wanted. Not her parents, the nice boy next door, or her French professor. Nobody. Certainly not the basketball stud with the body of a god and a heart of gold. Yet I kept acting like all I wanted from him was his dick.
“Let me go. I can’t do this,” I said, and pulled free and ran.
This time, he didn’t chase me.
My class load turned out to be grueling, but lucky me, study hour changed to being mandatory only twice a week. With a buffet of sessions we could choose from, I took a lucky guess that Tiberius wouldn’t attend the early morning one, so I went to it religiously. Willing to sacrifice a shower after practice two mornings a week was a small price to pay to avoid Tiberius and discussing my feelings with him.
Between preparing for an upcoming meet and taking fifteen credits, I was busy enough to avoid most parties and anything other than a quick dinner with Ginny. Truth be told, I was doing well; I had my shit together. I was even back to taking French, but this time with a female professor. This was a good thing since I actually was still a foreign language major. I was fluent in French, Italian, and Latin.
Originally, my choice of major was a great big fuck-you to my parents. Picking a career outside their longtime expectations was my second step in breaking free. The first was when I’d been awarded an athletic scholarship to a school in a place so opposite from home, they’d never wanted to visit.
The real clincher was when I withdrew my entire trust fund left to me by my grandparents, the one they were dying to get their hands on. I moved the funds to a new bank and selected a new financial advisor, changed my cellular number, and packed all my shit without ever looking back. They didn’t need the money; they just craved the control. Of course, they got my new number, but rarely used it unless it was to discuss money . . . or control.
I’d barely touched the money since moving it. To cover most of my expenses, I took a small stipend from the interest; the rest was covered by my scholarship, even when I redshirted. So I was in good shape financially, but always looking for something to fill the gap.
Which was why I was standing in front of the bulletin board in the Union, pulling a paper tab for a part-time tutoring job in Italian, when someone came up from behind me. I felt a little tap on my shoulder and turned to find a very large basketball player still wearing his practice jersey. A sheen of sweat covered his brow as his dark eyes assessed me.
I didn’t know his name, but this was the one who’d been laughing at the party with Tiberius, the friendly guy with the braids, which were now pulled up in a ponytail.
Squinting up at him, I asked, “Can I help you?”
“Tingly, right?” He kept his eyes trained on me, scanning me from top to bottom and then back up again.
A shiver ran through me. Yeah, he was big and looming, but I didn’t care about that. He felt ominous. Ultimately, I was worried about Tiberius, but shoved the feeling away and maintained a tough facade.
“Yeah, I’m Tingly. And you are?”
“Lamar.”
“What can I do for you, Lamar?” I crossed my arms over my chest and rocked back and forth like I didn’t have a care in the world. Who the fuck was this guy to survey me from head to toe?
“Well, ya don’t have to get bitchy. I was looking for you, heard you hang out ’round here.”
“Yeah, I do.” Still rocking back and forth on my toes as I stared at the patterns in his hair, I put on a tough face.
“Listen, I don’t mean to rub you the wrong way, babe. I don’t even know what he sees in you. You’re all skin and bones and blond hair everywhere. But Tiberius is heading home, and I thought you’d want to know. Should know or some shit like that.”
That got my attention, and I stopped rocking. “What? Why? What happened? Did he get hurt?”
“Nah. He’s fine. His momma passed. Cancer. So he’s gotta go home and deal with the details.”
I reached out and touched Lamar’s shoulder, my hand sticking to his sweaty skin. “Thanks, Lamar. Maybe I’ll give him a ring? Check in,” I said without thinking. Why would I start something I couldn’t finish?
“Just Mar,” he said. “My friends call me Mar.” And with that he turned and said, “Catch you ’round, Rex.”
“Uh, ’bye, Mar.”
I raced back to the privacy of my room and tossed on running clothes without thinking. Moving quickly, I whipped my hair up and smoothed it back tight in a ponytail holder, then rushed out of the dorm and ran to the townhouses. It didn’t matter that I didn’t know which one he lived in, or that the last time I was there, I bolted away. Tiberius was leaving, and I needed to get to him. Unsure of what I would say or do when I got there, I just left, flying as fast as I could in my trainers, not even bothering with a pacer watch.
Hustling down the hill, I started to slow my roll as the townhouses came into view. The enormity of what I was doing settling on me. I looked around for someone, anyone, a friendly face to ask if they knew Tiberius. Then, as luck would have it—or not—I ran smack into Jamel.
“Look what the cat dragged in—” he drawled before I interrupted him.
“Cut it out. Your buddy Mar came to see me, and I need to get to Tiberius,” I said with unjustified authority.
“So, you coming to mess with his head again?” He crossed his arms as he glared down at me. “He don’t need that shit.”
Taking a second glance at his arms and long limbs as his dark frame towered over me, I swallowed my fear and demanded, “Where is he?”
“‘Where is he, Mel?’ Say it nicely.”
Geez, what was it with these dudes and their nicknames and crazy mannerisms?
“Where is he, Mel?” I repeated. I didn’t have time to argue semantics.
“Unit 5B.” He cocked his head toward the left, and I picked up speed and ran off.
When I got there, I nearly banged down the door. It flew open after a few seconds of knocking.
“Tingly? What are you doing here?” Tiberius asked as he glanced around outside over my shoulder. “Did someone bring you here? How did you find me?” His eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed, and he was wearing a wrinkled long-sleeved white T-shirt and low-hanging sweatpants.
“Um, Lamar found me and told me what happened. I’m so sorry, Tiberius.”
I wanted to hug him or something, but I didn’t know if my body would be able to stop, or if he would even welcome the affection.
He rested an arm on the doorjamb as he looked down at me sadly. “She was sick. I knew it was a matter a time. But it still doesn’t feel real.”
“Is there anything I can do?” I hopped from one foot to the other, unsure whether I should ask if I could come inside.
“Nah. I’m going home tomorrow. Coach gave me five days, and my teachers will get all my work for when I get back. I’m good. Thanks for coming,” he said, then took a step back as if he was going to end the conversation and shut the door.
“Tiberius?”
“Yep?” He was obviously trying to be strong, but his bravado bled through his one small word.
“I was a bitch to you. That’s not really me. At least, I don’t think it is.” I let my head fall forward as I tugged at the back of my neck, releasing my ponytail to allow my hair to hide my eyes, which were stinging with the threat of tears.
“I know.” He let out a sigh and asked, “Want to come in?”
I nodded.
We did a little dance after he closed the door. I wanted to touch him, and he kept leaning forward and then stopping and pulling back. Finally, I reached out my hand and grabbed his, squeezing it.
Tiberius’s entire body seemed to relax as he pulled me in close and kissed the top of my head, but it didn’t feel corny like when Bryce made that move on Ginny.
He sucked in a deep, shuddering breath. “She would have liked you, my mom.”
“How do you know?” I said in a small voice. “We’ve only known each other a few weeks, half of which I’ve been avoiding
you.”
“Come on.” He led me toward a small kitchenette where he pulled out a barstool, and I sat with no further instructions needed.
Tiberius leaned on the counter in front of me and braced himself on his forearms. “My momma was a classy lady. She didn’t have much, but she gave in spades. Gave me a good life. Clothes, food, heat in the winter, made sure I met decent men in my life since I never met my dad. God, she cried the day I made the high school basketball team, shook the coach’s hand, blessing him for taking me under his wing.”
I let my hand wander, placing my palm on his forearm, his sleeve doing little to keep the sparks at bay. “She does sound like a wonderful person. And sometimes unconditional love is worth more than riches,” I said, knowing all too well how true that was.
He stared at my hand on his sleeve. “Then she got cancer when I was in prep school. It had already spread, and there wasn’t much she could do. We didn’t have the money for experimental shit, so she just lived her life. Wouldn’t let me leave school or think about putting off college.”
“Of course not,” I said. “I’m sure she was incredibly proud of your accomplishments.” I tried to be supportive, unsure about what I should or shouldn’t say as I pretended I knew something about someone loving me.
“Momma never finished college herself. She started, but then she had me and her plate was full. She did the best she could.” A tear fell and landed on his shirtsleeve, the fabric soaking up the evidence of his pain.
“I wish there was something I could say. I’ve never dealt with this, all this emotion or pain. I’m sorry,” I said lamely, feeling completely out of my element.
“It’s okay. Me neither. But now I gotta go home and pack up her stuff. Guess it’ll give me some closure or shit.”
With that he stood up and walked toward the back hall. I hesitated, not sure whether he wanted me to stay or follow. I did know that I was deathly afraid of making the wrong choice.
Unable to move, I watched him turn a corner, his gorgeous body just a memory. After another minute, he walked back toward the kitchen carrying a picture frame. His posture was stiff and his expression stoic, but his mood was anything but. He was somber, and I found myself missing the normally happy and sweet Tiberius.
“This is—I mean was—my mom,” he said, handing me the picture.
I held the edge of the black lacquer frame with a shaky hand, taking in the sight in front of me. There was Tiberius wearing his prep school basketball uniform. The photo must have been recent—he was tall, fully developed, a grown man with a wide smile. He had his arm wrapped around a woman about my height. She was curvy with big boobs and an even bigger smile. Wrapped in Ty’s arms and tucked into his armpit, she looked as proud as could be in a royal-blue blouse. A lump formed in my throat as I ran my finger across the glass, circling her curly dark blond hair.
“She’s beautiful,” I said. “I can see how happy she is here. It must have been something for her, seeing you reach for the stars. You can see she knew she’d done something right in raising you, which I’m sure wasn’t easy.” My breath lodged deep in my throat, hindered by the foot I’d just stuck all the way in my mouth.
He reached over and took the frame, taking his time staring at the picture. “Nope, it wasn’t. Bein’ a white woman in the hood wasn’t easy, but it was the only place her son was accepted, so she did it. In the end, the whole community respected the hell out of her.”
“Do you know where your dad is? I mean, do you think he’d want to know she was gone?”
Tiberius took a step back and I panicked once again, but he just set the picture down. Then he braced his hands on the counter on either side of me, and looked down at my face.
“Tingly, I’m gonna tell you something I don’t share much, but I’m feeling sorry for myself today. He would not care. My momma was a passing phase for him. Most women were until he went to prison for armed robbery, ’bout the same time I started high school. I only knew ’cause I caught my mom reading ’bout it online.”
“Oh,” I said, feeling a tear spill over my eyelashes. Crap, I was an emotional basket case over someone else’s life. Was I getting my period?
Or is this what truly caring for someone is like?
Ty’s accent deepened, the hood revealed in his speech as syllables dropped and vowels ran together. “When I was little, we’d see him ’round, always with a new lady on his arm. Each time would be worse for Momma. Eventually, I’d catch him outta the corner my eye and steer my mom the other way.”
His expression fierce, he grasped my arms. “Now you get why I shoulda defended you to the boys? I may not be all white or black, but I’m a fucking man who knows better than to watch a woman get ridiculed. It’s no excuse, but I never really fit in anywhere but playing ball, so those guys are my family, for better or worse. They know I got white blood running through my veins. My eyes are as blue as any Swede’s. Also means my dad had white blood somewhere deep in him. They shoulda known better than to make those comments about jungle-love bullshit.”
A tremor ran through his body. I felt it travel through him to his fingertips that rested on my biceps, and it made my heart bleed for him.
“You’re the most wonderful man, Tiberius. A handsome, kind gentleman just like your mom raised you to be,” I said, staring him straight in the eye.
“I want to kiss you,” he blurted. “Is that wrong of me? I mean, I should be grieving, but I want to kiss you so bad. More than take my next breath.”
I didn’t answer or wait. I hopped down from the barstool, reached up on my tippy-toes, and brought his mouth down to mine. The kiss wasn’t hard like in the elevator; it was soft and tender, full of promise.
When I ran my tongue along the seam where his lips met, he opened and let my tongue in. As he slid his tongue into my mouth, we explored the depths of each other—physically and emotionally—because giving in to this was a statement. On both our parts.
Although I would never settle for Tiberius accepting he was anything less than the magnificent man he was, I was scared I wasn’t woman enough for him.
Lost in the heat of the moment, Tiberius ran his hands down my sides, his thumbs grazing my small breasts. My hands were wound around his neck, my thumb tracing the edge of his fade haircut where it met his damp skin. Our kiss seemed to deepen with every second that passed until there was a loud banging on the door.
“Christ! What now?” Tiberius yelled as he broke away from me, then turned away to adjust himself in his sweats. They weren’t doing much at hiding what he was packing.
A small thrill ran through me at the thought that I did that. Made him that way.
More banging rattled the door, the pounding increasing in intensity.
Tiberius trudged to the door and threw it open. “What, Mel?” he barked.
“Just checkin’ on you,” Jamel answered, walking straight into the hallway without being invited. “Your little white bitch came lookin’ for you,” he said as he turned the corner, and his eyes narrowed as he caught sight of me.
“Cool it, Mel,” Tiberius said, a hint of steel running through his vocal cords.
My words were once again trapped in my own throat. I plopped back into the stool and continued to stare wide-eyed at the interaction.
“No one is a white bitch, man. Okay? Rex, I mean Tingly, is a person,” he said, shaking his head. “A person like you. No one is walking around calling you names.” Tiberius paced the room, his large feet padding heavily on the carpet.
“Well, you said yourself this bitch was running hot and cold. I didn’t like it.”
Jamel stared daggers at me, his biceps flexing and rippling, his dark eyes laser-focused on me. I tried not to flinch, but wasn’t very successful.
“Shit, Jamel! Look what you’re doing to her. She’s shaking in her seat. Fuck! That’s not the way you treat women, my man,” Tiberius said as he got right up in Jamel’s face.
“I think I’ll go,” I whispered as I slowly stood and
tried to sneak behind Jamel to get to the door.
Once again, I felt like I was right back where I started, getting caught with someone I shouldn’t be with. Why did I keep doing that?
“Hey, you,” Jamel hollered at me.
“Don’t,” Tiberius yelled, but then controlled his tone. “Don’t go.” He caught my arm and pulled me up next to him as equal parts warmth and anger rolled off him.
“Listen, you don’t need this right now.” I twisted my wrist free from his grasp, but chills racked through me as soon as I left his heat.
“Tingly, don’t do this,” he called out, but I was already running away.
Toward what, I had no clue.
Sweat poured down my back, soaking my sports bra and my tank, but I continued to push on through the workout. The coaches had set up large pylons around the perimeter of the track, marking every fifty feet. Our first meet was coming up in a few days, so we’d been at it all morning, alternating running as hard as we possibly could every other fifty, and recovering the ones in between.
After the final whistle blew, I darted to the Gatorade cooler for a quick pick-me-up before I ran home.
“You doing okay, Tingly?” Stephanie asked as she sneaked up behind me. I must not have heard her approach over my heavy breathing.
“Yeah, I’m good,” I said, the air rushing out with my words. “I’m feeling super good these days. I’m ready.”
Concern filled her hazel eyes. “Oh, I know you’re in top condition, maybe even a little over-conditioned. I meant you-you.”
“Yep! Good as ever,” I proclaimed with a plastic smile on my face. Being from LA, I was good at that.
“Tingly, come on. Coach Wallace and I care about you. He trusts me to take good care of you—”
“Because he’s afraid of himself? Scared I’ll seduce him?” I cut her off, hurling my words instead of my fists. I wanted to punch her, show her how strong I was. No fucking Frenchman was going to break me, especially after what I’d gone through at home.
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