Vérité

by Rachel Blaufeld

  My phone vibrated in my pocket, so I pulled it out. I had two texts from Ginny and a voice mail from my parents. I deleted the voice mail without listening to it, and opened up the texts.

  GINNY: How was the meet? You going out?

  GINNY: Hello? You okay?

  ME: Yeah, all good. Went to Lupe’s with team. Now met up with Tiberius and his teammates. You?

  GINNY: I was worried about you. I’m heading to party on College with Bryce. Where you going?

  ME: Somewhere off campus, basketball thing.

  GINNY: Oh, you’ll see Chey and Stacy.

  I didn’t even think about our roommates and that they may be at this basketball party. I hardly ever saw them at home. They were nice and all, but hadn’t invited me to any of their events. I worried they wouldn’t want me there.

  ME: Shit. I forgot. You think they’ll be mad?

  GINNY: Too bad.

  ME: Who is this? And what have you done with Ginny?

  GINNY: LOL. Go have fun.

  ME: You too.

  The car came to a stop in front of a small apartment building, the top floor all lit up. We exited the SUV like a bunch of clowns getting out of a Mini Cooper. The basketball guys unfolded their long legs and the track girls, all limbs, stretched themselves out of the vehicle.

  Jamel tossed his arm around my shoulders as we walked toward the main entrance. “I’m just starting to like you, girl, but you get my boy hooked on Taylor Swift and we’re done. You got me?”

  Giggles rocked through my body.

  Apparently, Tiberius was over the joke or Jamel having his arm on me because he simply said, “Enough.”

  I slipped away from Mel and walked side by side with Tiberius. I didn’t get his inexperience—he was all man in his actions, protective and sensual in everything he did. But I didn’t want to bring up the discrepancy between the two of us again. Plus I felt good; the margarita was taking effect. My body felt loose and pliant, and my heart pounded with excitement, which it hadn’t done in a long time.

  Once Trey pressed some buttons on the intercom, we were buzzed in to the building. He led the way up a few flights of stairs to the top floor. Music bled through the walls and out into the hallway, the walls shaking to the bass, and my heart now kept pace with the beat.

  Trey rapped on the door with his fist, and it opened a crack. He mumbled something to the guy through the sliver before the door opened wide, revealing a large room with the furniture all moved off to the sides, a strobe light flickering purple and blue dots all around the space, and a DJ off to the side. A full bar was laid out on the kitchen counter. Amber-hued bottles lined the shelf, and a keg rested against the wall.

  Trey and Jamel led the pack through the room, fist-bumping everyone in their path. Tiberius followed suit, touching his fist and yelling, “Wassup?” to everyone he came into contact with. Everyone knew him; for a freshman, he was obviously connected. “This is Tingly,” he yelled over the music. I met so many people, I couldn’t possibly remember their names.

  We strolled toward the bar, where Tiberius grabbed a beer and asked, “What do you want?” His deep voice carried over the music.

  “Rum and Diet Coke,” I yelled back.

  He whispered my order to a shorter dude manning the alcohol, and we watched as he mixed it up. “Junior manager,” Tiberius explained, tilting his head toward the guy. “Keeps us out of trouble. He knows the team’s gonna party, so he makes sure we stay in line.”

  We stood off to the side, drinking our drinks, Ty’s arm linked on my waist. If I was honest, I’d never really done this whole PDA thing. High school was all about sneaking around bedrooms in Beverly Hills mansions—or boardrooms, in my case—and college started out rough. It’s not like you flaunt having an affair with a professor.

  The music was good. The DJ was jamming, spinning a vibe that ran through the floorboards all the way to my chest. It was pulsing deep in my rib cage, and my hips started to sway of their own volition.

  Tiberius slipped the glass from my hand with ease and set it on the ledge with his empty bottle before pulling me close. His leg moved in between mine, and his pelvis ground against me.

  As his head bopped with the beat, our bodies entwined and moving in time with the groove, I slid my hand around his back and into his jeans pockets. If I didn’t hold on, I was going to fall. My heart rate was too fast, my head too clouded—with lust, not alcohol—and my brain was swimming with thoughts of Tiberius.

  “Who is this?” I yelled over the music.

  “Rick Ross,” Tiberius yelled back, then he got serious. “I like this.” His breath brushed my face and neck, leaving chills in its wake. “Like it a lot, Rex.”

  He smelled like beer and a good kind of man sweat, and his moves were outrageous. I’d never danced like this before. It felt totally illicit, nothing like when the girls and I back in high school used to tear it up in the middle of a house party. Tiberius and I were making love with our clothes on, and I couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like when we actually did it.

  I was afraid to speak, so I just pressed myself closer, my pelvis seeking contact with Tiberius.

  “Don’t rush it,” he whispered in my ear. “This. I plan to take my time with you, Tingly. In everything I do.”

  His words had me wound up, my pulse soaring, faster than earlier at the meet. Why did we have to go so slow?

  The song ended, and we grudgingly broke apart when Jamel appeared.

  Tiberius gave him a chin lift. “What’s up, bro? You good?”

  I grabbed my drink from the ledge and took a swig as Jamel said, “Looking hot, Tingly. You got moves.”

  Another song started, a mash-up of R&B and rap. Jamel came closer and started grinding on me. “You definitely got rhythm, girl,” he said, inching closer. When I didn’t respond, he put a hand on my shoulder and pulled me close.

  “Mel, cut it out,” Tiberius said, pushing him back.

  “Passing all my tests, Rex,” he said with a smirk. “Pushing off that Logan prick, keeping our fight quiet, loyal to my man Tiberius, here. I’m startin’ to like you,” he said with conviction before moving away to grind up behind some girl with long braids and bright green hot pants.

  “Is he ever gonna give me a fair chance?” I leaned up and shouted to Tiberius over the music.

  “Nah, he’s got a chip on his shoulder big as the Grand Canyon. But he hides an even bigger heart behind all that attitude, so let him be.” He cocked an eyebrow in question. “One more song and want to get outta here?”

  “Sounds good,” I said, and then Tiberius was back on me, moving our two bodies in sync.

  When the song ended, he grabbed my hand and started walking toward the door, giving Trey two fingers pointed toward the door like an airline attendant.

  “Tingly?” a girl’s voice asked. “What you doing here?”

  Turning to see one of my roommates, I said, “Hey, Chey. I came for a bit with Tiberius.”

  Tall and solid with skin nearly as dark as her ebony eyes, she ran her gaze slowly up and down Ty’s body, taking her time ogling. “I see that,” she said. “I’m Cheyenne, but everyone calls me Chey.” Pinning Tiberius with a challenging stare, she flaunted what her mama gave her. Which was a lot of boobs and ass and curves tucked into a tight red V-necked shirt and painted-on jeans, the type of body with something to hold on to. The kind Tiberius was used to, I supposed.

  “Tiberius,” he said, but offered nothing more.

  “Chey’s one of my roommates,” I explained as she flipped her long braids behind her neck, exposing multiple piercings along her earlobe and a small tattoo––a set of dice––underneath on her right ear.

  “Cool, nice to meet you. Maybe I’ll see you over at T’s place, but we’re just getting ready to roll.” And just like that, Tiberius dragged me toward the door.

  “Don’t be a stranger,” she called after us, her raspy voice carrying through the hall.

  As soon as we hit the cool nig
httime air, I felt high. On life maybe, I wasn’t sure what, but high. Free.

  “Tiberius, that’s my roommate. You have to be nice.” I slapped him playfully on the shoulder.

  “Believe me, she’s not gonna be nice now to you, dating a brother.” He play-smacked my butt.

  I stopped, and not because of the smack. “Are we dating?”

  We stood in the middle of a quiet residential street, night all around us, dew starting to form, and Tiberius focused his eyes directly on me. When I tried to look away, he said, “Huh-uh, don’t look at the ground, look at me.”

  I lifted my face.

  “We been dancing around this all semester, Rex,” he said softly. “I come on to you, and you push me away. Then you go and do something sweet, and I fall for you all over again. Like I said, I want you. Gonna take it slow, but yeah, I wanna date you.”

  “You’ll probably change your mind soon,” I said with a frown.

  My defenses were up. He knew about Dubois, but not everything else. Tiberius was lonely and I was a likely candidate—an outcast from last year, unattached. I fit the bill. Problem was, I liked him too much. He made me too happy. And he smiled too much.

  So I did the stupidest thing ever and said, “Okay, we’re dating.”

  Beaming, Tiberius grabbed me and swung me around, pulling me onto his back for a piggyback ride. “I’m starving. Wanna come back to my place?”

  “Sure.” I hoped he wasn’t going to start with that slow stuff again, but it was kind of nice when I really thought about it.

  A week later, I was circling by the greenhouse, past the agriculture department and picking up speed, my pacer watch beeping with each stride. It wanted me to slow, but I didn’t. I’d finished practice and blown off study hour because I needed an extra-long run. It was Tuesday, and I would just catch an afternoon study session after Economics. My latest download, Rick Ross, blared through my earbuds, reminding me of last week and Tiberius. Unfortunately, he’d been true to his word and was taking everything slow. A snail’s pace, if you asked me.

  We’d hung out over the past week and kissed and held hands, but nothing more. Each night he walked me back to my place at two or three a.m., then planted gentle kisses all over my neck and mouth, getting close enough for me to feel his growing erection, and then he stopped. And said good-bye.

  The guys gave him shit. “You walking your lady home, Ty? You not old enough to have sleepovers?” Grinning like idiots, they’d taunt him as they sat around gaming and drinking until all hours of the night.

  Tiberius would fling back, “Coming from ya’ll, sittin’ there playing video games like a buncha schoolboys.”

  They’d all laugh and start punching one another, eventually rolling onto the ground in a full-on brawl. And then they would get back up and play their games again.

  I stretched my legs, lengthening my stride, breathing in and out of my nose as I pushed myself past the fields and downhill toward main campus. My quads were screaming but I punished them further, attempting to burn off all the nerves and sexual tension stored up in my body.

  Slowing a tiny bit, I pulled an electrolyte gel out of my pocket. I planned to run the loop all over again. I couldn’t speed up anything with Tiberius, but I certainly could speed up my running pace.

  The guys had their first pre-season game coming up at seven o’clock. I knew Tiberius was nervous and excited, but he didn’t ask me to come.

  Of course, Chey made a point of letting me know she was going. I was on her shit list—permanently—which was weird. The damn girl hadn’t paid me one lick of attention until now.

  “Were you out with Tiberius?” she’d ask when I came home. “Were the other guys there?” It was like the Spanish Inquisition every time I walked back into the apartment.

  Right now, it didn’t matter because I needed to figure out if I was going to the game or not. Tiberius came to the track meet without an invite, so why couldn’t I go to his first pre-season game? They were only playing another Ohio school, but still. He could have asked me to come.

  Another rap song came on as I worked my way back up toward the far end of campus. For a few minutes, my mind went blank, pulsing to the music, freed in the air, and laboring over keeping my feet going in a straight line. I was concentrating on inhaling and exhaling when I sensed someone come up next to me. I turned to the left and popped out a single earbud.

  “What’s up, Rex?” Lamar said, running next to me. He was wearing a pair of mesh shorts and Nike running shoes, but no shirt. Sweat beaded all over his arms and back, and it was clear he’d been at it a while. His braids were pulled back, waving from side to side as he pumped his arms, his large feet loudly slapping the pavement.

  I lifted the neck of my white tank and wiped the sweat from my lip before answering. “Hey, Mar. You getting in shape?” I teased him.

  “Just trying to stay trim and fast, girl.” He flashed me a smile. It wasn’t a flirtatious smile, simply friendly.

  “You jamming to some Rick Ross?” he asked, gesturing to the scratchy, tinny sound making its way out of my lone earbud.

  “Yep,” I said as if I’d been caught with my fly down. I felt very exposed, and it had nothing to do with my short running shorts and skimpy tank.

  “Woulda thought you’d be more of an alternative rock or teeny-bop kinda girl,” he said pointedly, standing on my Achilles heel.

  “A girl can like rap, can’t she?”

  “’Specially one of our girls.”

  I picked up my speed, pumping my arms. “What is it with all you boys and your tests? Christ, every day, Mel is putting me through the ringer. And now you?”

  He kept pace. “Sorry, Rex. We just look out for our own. We know little Ty is a softie, and we wanna make sure you ain’t just taking him for a test ride.”

  “Be quiet, Mar. We’ve been through this,” I huffed out. “Did you want anything else?”

  “Yeah, you coming tonight?”

  “Don’t know. Doesn’t seem like your softie wants me to go.”

  “He’s not gonna ask you to come, but you should.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s a great player, but he’s never played at this level. Played high school and prep, but this is the big leagues. Kid’s nervous, and he doesn’t want to be more nervous ’bout you saying no if he asks. So just roll on over to the field house tonight. Tip’s at seven.” Without another word, he veered off toward the townhouses, not allowing me to say anything in return.

  Watching his muscular back run away from me, I decided to slow my pace and my thoughts. As I walked the rest of the way home, my muscles cooled. Sadly, my confusion didn’t.

  “And now starting for Hafton, a junior guard, a marketing major, standing at six feet four, number thirteen, Trey Dawson.” The loudspeaker blared through the field house, the seats practically rocking with the band and the announcer.

  Ginny and I sat in the upper level, looking down at the student section and the VIP boxes for boosters. I’d suggested we might get a better view from up there, but the truth was I didn’t want to be spotted. I was still in denial that I was even at the game. Not sure I would fess up to going, I kicked my feet up on the ledge and looked down toward the shiny wooden court.

  The two teams took their spots for the tip, Jamel in the center, Trey and Lamar on opposite wings, an impressively tall white guy resembling the Jolly Green Giant behind Jamel, and another guy I never met before down the court.

  “You know all of them?” Ginny asked, interrupting my thoughts.

  “No, just the guy in the center and number thirteen, Trey, and twenty-one in the braids, Lamar.”

  When the ref tossed the ball up in the air, Mel lunged for it, tipping it to the white dude, who passed it to Trey, and up the court they went. They were incredibly fast, and with each pass of the ball, their muscles rippled and bulged. Hard to believe how much they ate when you watched the sheer speed of their performance.

  Lamar popped one in the basket for three,
and then they were back down the court to play defense against the other team wearing red and white. Before the red guys even passed center court, Trey stole the ball and was back down the court for another quick two points. He was fouled on the shot, so he lined up to shoot for the extra point while Lamar stepped back to get instructions from the coach.

  “They’re kinda hot,” Ginny said with a grin. “Even if I don’t really know the game, and well, you know I like Bryce, so don’t say anything to him, but these guys got it going on.”

  “You’re like a Catholic schoolgirl on spring break,” I said to her.

  Her eyes bright with happiness, she giggled, making her ponytail bounce.

  “One second,” I went on, “you’re all soccer and books and sitting in your room. The next, you’re an admirer of hot men.”

  This time we both laughed.

  “It’s kind of nice to not always be so serious,” she admitted, chewing on her fingernail.

  “You be whoever you want to be, Gin. I like you either way, but I’m kinda glad you’re trying stuff out and getting out there. You’re not messing up soccer, are you?”

  “No, season’s ending, and I looked good all season. No worries there.”

  “Then we’re all good. Now, where were we? Hot guys playing basketball.”

  “Right,” she confirmed.

  I looked toward the court. We were back on defense. The opposing team got one in for two, and then our team dropped back to try to score.

  Smiling, I looked at my feet on the railing; even I was getting into the spirit with a pair of navy Chucks. After all, they were the original basketball shoes.

  My smile died as my shoulder blades tingled; I felt eyes on me, hot and glaring. I looked around the field house to find the entire girls’ basketball team looking distinctly unhappy with me. Shit.

  “Just ignore them.” Ginny had followed my gaze and patted my arm, encouraging me to stay calm. “They’ll get over it.”