by Sierra Hill
He just shrugs and laughs, turning in his chair to flag down the waitress for more beers as my mind rewinds over the last year. During that time, three of my best friends and teammates all found the girls that turned their world upside down and brought them to their knees.
The similarities between us end there, though. While I feel something special and deep for Mica, I’m not ready to take that kind of plunge, and she’s in the same boat, although she hasn’t come right out and said it.
“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. Can’t you tell me something other than ‘she’s great’? Fuck, dude.”
Cade is right. I don’t share much about my life with anyone. It’s too painful and I don’t want them to see how fucked up I am or judge me after they find out. I guess the same goes for talking about Mica, too. I’m so used to keeping things bottled up, that I don’t share them with anyone, not even my closest friends.
I avert my eyes, hoping he won’t see the truth lurking behind them. It wouldn’t do anybody any good if they knew about my shitty past and history. It’s a story best left untold and kept hidden from everyone.
“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, even though I’m angry as fuck that she left me.
“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. 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?” His question triggers a flash of anger, which boils beneath my skin. My body heats up, my chest and neck become tight and itchy. I take another drink to 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 bar noise around us. Cade stares at me with wide, sympathetic 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 in for 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.
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 a 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 in a few weeks. After that, we’ll head into our fall semester, and Lance will soon gear 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 mío. 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 when I see him on display.
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 my buddies’ house for a party with me?”
“Mmm. I don’t know. Which friend?”
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 other fun afterwards.”
Ugh. It’s a difficult proposition for me. Of course, there’s nothing I want more than to spend time with him and I’m happy he’s inviting me out, but I also get extremely uncomfortable around people I don’t know. Because I’m different from them.
Lance wouldn’t understand. He fits in everywhere he go
es with everybody. 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’ and are possibly even wondering if I’m even here legally. It hurts – their suspicious glares silently damning me for being Hispanic, even though I was born and raised here. I am an American, just like them, only with 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 from your friends.”
Apparently, this won’t do, and he doesn’t get my meaning. Lance turns my chair toward him and scoots me in toward him, his legs opening wide to wedge me between them. Then he cups my face in his hands and with a snicker, gives me the ‘what for.’
“Of course, you’re different, Georgie. And thank God for that because they’re all dumb fucking jocks.”
I laugh at his attempt to make a joke, but inside, it 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 so are you.”
Lance waves a hand in the air like it’s a foolish thing to say. “Those two are anomalies. These are friends from my old neighborhood and I can promise you, they can barely spell their own names. And as for me, if I were smart, you wouldn’t need to tutor me. I’m just a dumb fuck.”
He kisses my nose and pulls back, but I grab onto his t-shirt to keep him there.
“Don’t you ever say that about yourself. It’s not true and I won’t allow you to put yourself down like that. We all need help sometimes to get through life. The question is whether we can let our pride go long enough to accept that help or not. Being smart is asking for help from others.”
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 still an open question, one that I revisit with myself daily. Lance has never mentioned being exclusive or if he wants this to last between us. My guess is that I’m simply a summer fling – someone to pass the time with since I’m readily available – and once the season starts back up again, he’ll return to being pursued by all the hoops hunnies as they throw themselves in his path every chance they get.
While that will undoubtedly break my heart, I don’t expect anything 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 with my family.
Over the last few weeks when we’re alone together, Lance has shown me a completely different side of himself. He doesn’t put on that act that I’ve seen him do around other people. It’s like he wears a mask with others. A false identity that presents the 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’ve built together will be pummeled by a crashing wave.
“Come on, Georgie,” he persists, giving me a pouty-lip whine. “I want you to come with me tonight. I want to introduce you to my boys.”
I should say no, but the pleading tone of his voice has me capitulating. 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 because he wants to introduce me to his neighborhood boys.
I 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 the reason. I want you there, so I can haul you off down some deep, dark corner and have my way with you. So, you can wear that hot little skirt you have in your closet and I can hike it up and finger fuck your pussy against the wall. And then I’ll fuck you and make you come again when my cocks buried inside you.”
Phew. Well then.
My eyes are closed tight, and I know I’m holding my breath. He’s stolen it with his very dirty words. I 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, shallow pants and my legs clench together in anticipation of what he described.
And then I hear laughter coming from behind us. “You get any closer, Britton, you might get called out for public indecency, bro.”
Lance sighs but doesn’t move, as I try to jerk away 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 shit-eating grin.
He fist bumps Lance and nods his head at 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. Waddup?” Lance asks casually as if nothing is amiss and he hasn’t just been caught 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 never thought I’d be one of those girls who threw caution to the wind with respect to privacy.
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 statement he’s making 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 about me are all true.”
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 and bullshitting. But I blush at how crass they are and how they talk about their dicks that way. Must be a jock thing.
As the conversation veers to the fall season and rivalries and various other basketball references, I kind of tune out and return to my studies. But soon there are spectators gathered around us, and a group of girls begin swarming. I start feeling 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 clea
r the edge of the circle, I hear a female voice say, “Look at her. 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 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 I appreciate about him, but it doesn’t help me when I know what people see and think about me when they see us together. All they see is a woman of color who’s with a white college athlete and they begin drawing their own negative conclusions.
It’s yet another reason why I need to break things off with Lance sooner rather than later. Because the longer I wait and the deeper I fall, the more pain I’ll endure when it does eventually end.
And I fear it will be even worse than the cuts from the racist remarks that girl made to me as I left.
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 got 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.
