“No way, I don’t believe you,” Chloe says. “How long?”
“Above my shoulders. I could get it in a little man bun and everything. God, the guys gave me shit for it.”
“I can’t picture it.” She narrows her gaze. We’re sitting on the bed totally naked talking. Speaking of the guys giving me shit… I’m pretty sure they’d kick me off man island if they knew we’d been doing nothing but talking for the past few hours. Totally naked. My dick stayed hard for the first two, but the poor guy has given up the fight.
“I’ve got some pictures from when it was long.” I walk over to grab my phone out of the front left pocket of my shorts. Her eyes sweep over my body from head to toe and… there he goes… my dick stands back at attention.
Sitting on the bed together with our legs crossed, knees touching, I pull up my photos and scroll back to last spring. I stop on one of me and Gabby and hand it to her.
“Wow.” She looks from the picture to me and back again. “You’ve got a whole thing going on here… and I am here for it. Why did you cut it?” She holds the phone up. “Do you mind?”
I nod my permission, and she flips through the pictures while I try to figure out how to answer her. I did it so my best friend would date me isn’t exactly the truth, but it isn’t a total lie either. Gabby had all but told our friends she didn’t like my hair, and Gabby represented everything I thought I wanted—sweet, beautiful, and fun.
“It was indirectly Gabby’s idea,” I say. “She made a comment about liking short hair. I miss the long, but I don’t have to steal hair ties from chicks anymore, so there’s that.”
Chloe’s eyes snap to me. “Did you have a thing with Gabby?”
“No.” I shake my head. The sting of rejection is still there. “I did like her for a while, or maybe I just liked the idea of her.” I shrug. “She didn’t feel the same way.”
I wince at my honesty and how it sounds when I say it out loud.
“Her loss.” She puts the phone on the bed and crawls into my lap. I’ve never been so happy to have been rejected. I don’t have feelings for Gabby anymore, not like that, but if Chloe wants to take pity on me and try and prove how happy she is that things didn’t work out with my best friend… well, I’m not about to stop her.
The next morning, I stand back while Chloe and Camila hug and tear up saying their goodbyes. I look at my phone while they talk, trying to let them have their time. I glance up as Camila looks over Chloe’s shoulder. She smiles and waves me over.
“I’m so glad you came. Thanks for looking out for my girl. You’ve got my number now if I need to come down and cut a bitch.”
“Easy, killer.” Chloe laughs and hugs her again. “But thank you. Love you.”
“Love you, too, Chlo.”
The ride back starts out cheerful. Loud, very bad singing, on my part, to songs on the radio. Chloe knows exactly zero song lyrics despite claiming to know them all. I don’t care, though. Off-key, wrong words, her voice makes my chest feel like it’s cracked wide open.
About seventy miles out, the singing stops and Chloe goes to staring out the window. Pressing and talking about feelings isn’t really my bag, but I know I have to say something.
“Missing California already?”
“Yeah and thinking about how crazy our schedules are going to be now with your games starting soon.”
For the next seven months, basketball runs my life. I look forward to it and dread it equally every year. Sounds like she does, too, but it seems like she’s in more than a life’s about to get crazy funk.
“Worried about seeing your roommates again?”
“No, not really. I mean, we still have a long way to go, but I’m not worried they tossed my stuff out into the hallway while I was gone. They’re probably not waiting by the door anxious for my arrival either.” She shrugs. “Cam thinks I should come clean with them. Tell them that you and I aren’t really together. Except…” Hands resting in her lap, she twists the rose gold ring on her thumb. “Now I don’t know what we are.”
She doesn’t give me time to answer. Her face scrunches up, and she visibly cringes. “Oh, God, sorry. I’m totally that girl.”
“What girl?” I glance from the road to her face. I bite back a laugh at her panicked expression.
She gives me a look that says she’s not saying any more, so I put her out of her misery. “You’re not that girl. We’re hanging out.”
The words don’t quite describe us, I know, but we’ve only been dating for real for two days.
“Hanging out?”
Desire to claim her, tell her I want her to be my girlfriend, and that we’ll figure out the rest later courses through me, but I can’t do that. Who knows what she’ll want in another few weeks after her teammates come around? And they will.
I don’t want to be the guy who saved her, I want to be the guy she chooses. I’d like to believe this is one of those good things in my life I’m going to be able to hang on to, but the pessimist in me isn’t ready to forge ahead so blindly.
“Listen, we’ve got a couple weeks left in our fake relationship to figure it out. By then, you may be sick of me. Until then, let’s just roll with it.”
Tuesday afternoon practice is shit and the team looks sloppy. Coach is on the floor demonstrating an inbound play that should be so easy middle schoolers could get it done. Sitting on the sidelines getting water and taking a break after almost an hour of non-stop play, Joel and I share the same worried expression. After winning the NCAA tourney last year, all eyes are going to be on us and we fucking suck.
“We gotta do something,” he says and drapes the towel over his head. “I don’t wanna go out like this. Last year and we’re going to be laughed off the court.”
I’d been thinking the same thing and I think of Chloe so willing to do anything to fit in with her team. Maybe it’s not the rookies. Maybe it’s us.
“What about having the team over tonight? Just the guys.”
He nods. “Like a team intervention? We could go over all the shit they’re fucking up.”
“Nah, man. No basketball talk, just hanging, relaxing, getting to know them.”
“You wanna make friends with the rookies?” He quirks one dark eyebrow.
I shrug. “What we’re doing now isn’t working. You got a better idea?”
Joel doesn’t answer right away. Coach yells out for us to sub back in, and we get to our feet quickly.
“Let’s do it,” he says. “I’m willing to try anything.”
After practice, Joel and I each tell a few guys about the plan for the night and then he takes off to get supplies while I go back to the house and survey our stock. I text him a list of things and then jump in the shower.
When I walk back into my room naked except the towel I’m currently using to dry off my hair, Chloe’s there on my bed. Books and laptop sprawled out, she smiles up at me, heat in her gaze. “You just walk around naked on a Tuesday afternoon?”
“Not usually hot girls sitting on my bed when I get out of the shower. Did I conjure you up because the Chloe I was thinking about while I soaped up was naked too and you’re fully clothed?”
“We’re supposed to work on our Comms project. You forgot, didn’t you?”
“Shit. Yeah, sorry. Team is coming over in an hour.”
She nods and looks me over. I still haven’t bothered to cover myself. “But you have an hour?”
Pretending I don’t know what she’s angling at, I sit on the bed and pick up a textbook. It’s upside down, but she doesn’t notice. “Sure. We could probably get the first section done in an hour. You think?”
I run my fingers through my still damp hair and then run a hand over my chest to wipe away some water drops. She watches every movement I make; her pretty lips part and quiver. She’s so still I can’t be sure she’s breathing.
“Chloe?”
Her gaze snaps to mine. “Sorry, yeah, let’s do that.” She tries to recover, fumbling with a notebook and pen.
“Chlo?”
She looks up, hesitant this time.
“I’m totally fucking with you. I’ve got an hour and you think I want to do schoolwork?” I drop the textbook on the bed and then sweep my hand across the comforter to send it all to the floor. Didn’t quite think it through because her laptop hits the floor with a thud.
“Fuck.” I wince. “There’s a good chance I just killed your laptop.” I lean over the bed to retrieve it and check it for damage, but Chloe stops me and pulls me on top of her.
By the time I make it downstairs, fully clothed, the team’s all here.
“Good luck,” Chloe says, looking past me to the team hanging out in the living room and kitchen. “Wanna hang out tomorrow after class?”
“Can’t. We’ve got a late workout. Tomorrow night?”
“Team dinner.”
We both nod, knowing it’s going to be hard to mesh our schedules for a while.
“Well, I’ll see you in class at least,” she says, tilting up on her toes like she’s going to kiss me and then dropping as if she’s unsure.
“Definitely.” I lean down, cup her face, and press my lips to hers. I don’t waste any time sweeping my tongue past her lips so we’re full-on sucking face. Damn, this girl gets me all worked up.
“Hey, hey, no girls allowed,” Joel yells from somewhere. I raise a middle finger above my head and keep right on kissing my girl.
Chloe smiles, her lips curling up at the corners and the sweet sound of her laughter pouring into my mouth. She pulls back slowly. “I should go. Have fun with the team.”
She turns on her heel, and I smack her ass because… well, I just want an excuse to touch it. Looking over her shoulder at me, she smiles and then disappears out the front door.
Joel wraps an arm around me while I’m still staring at the door. “You’re so fucked.”
I wriggle out of his hold. “You’re one to talk.” He and Katrina are practically inseparable. If he could bring her to practice, I’m pretty sure he would.
“I’m happily fucked,” he says like that explains it.
“What the hell does that mean?”
I walk to the kitchen for food, and Joel follows behind me. “Kitty and I are the real deal—in it for the long haul. Soul mates and all that shit.”
“So poetic,” I joke.
“You and Chloe are still in the beginning stages, so whether you’re going to be happily fucked or just fucked remains to be seen.”
“I can’t argue with that logic.”
I fill a plate with food. I have no idea how Joel was able to get a full meal catered on the fly, but my stomach growls in appreciation.
“I invited Wes,” Joel says after we’ve both got a plate and are headed to the living room.
“Why? The guys—”
“Know we’re tight so it makes sense he’d be here. Plus, you two need to work your shit out. With everything else fucking with the team mojo, we can’t handle your shit on top of it.”
I grumble but know he’s right. Sitting off to the side, I watch the team interact. Joel and I are the only seniors. Aside from one lone junior, the team is made up of sophomores and freshmen. They’re good guys, good players, even, but young and inexperienced.
Most of them are only a year or two older than Heath. God willing, next year he’ll be off at college trying to fit in with a team just like this. That makes me pay a little closer attention and think a little harder on how I can help.
But first, I fire off a text to check in.
Me: What’s up, little bro? Haven’t heard from ya. How’s hockey?
I’ve learned not to come out of the gate asking about Mom or he shuts down and I don’t get any information.
Heath: Good. Uncle Doug is taking me to NMU next week to visit. Coach Frazier is gonna let me skate with the team.
Me: That’s awesome. Congrats.
I hesitate.
Me: Mom going?
Heath: Doubt it.
I pocket my phone with plans to call my mom later and talk to her. Not going with him is… well, it’s shitty. And I’m tired of her flaking and making excuses. I know that her pain is different. I lost a dad, but she lost a husband… not the same, I get it, but Heath still needs her.
When Wes shows up, most the guys don’t even bat an eye. He’s a likable coach. God knows why he’s such a grumpy bastard.
He grabs a beer from the kitchen and takes a seat next to me. “Hey. How’s it going?”
“Fine.” I take a drink from my beer and watch the TV. Shaw and Fresh are playing NBA 2K20. “How are you?”
“Fine,” he says in a mocking tone and shakes his head. “Seriously, how are you? Blair tells me you and the volleyball chick are serious.”
“You wanna have girl talk?”
“Or I could just come right out and ask about the rest of the shit going on?”
“Chloe and I are just dating, but I like her. She’s cool.” I might be downplaying my feelings, but a few obstacles still stand in the way. Most importantly, I need to return the money she paid me. It feels all wrong now that I know how she feels, but it puts me back at square one—needing paper.
Wes chuckles. “Dodging like a pro. Nice.”
I lower my voice. “I’m not using. You’ve seen my piss tests.”
“And dealing?”
I shoot him a death glare and start to stand.
“Stop. Sit. I’m sorry, man. I’m just worried. You totally blindsided me. I knew you were struggling, but I had no idea it was that bad.” He sounds sincere so I sit back down.
“Things back home are shit. It was stupid, I know. I made a mistake. You gonna hold it over me for the rest of the season? Because if so, I need to invest in earplugs to tune you out.”
“I know all about shitty parent situations. That shit’s not your fault. The rest… well, that’s on you.”
Anger rises faster than I can control and my tone is hard. “I don’t have shitty parents. My parents are awesome.” But as quick as it came, it falls with the realization I’m living in the past. “Well, they were. Ever since my dad died, my mom is…” I choose my words carefully. “Having a hard time. And my brother is still there dealing with it.”
“Your dad died?” Genuine shock shows on Wes’ face and the reality that yeah, my dad is gone smacks me hard. It’s one thing to say the words, but every once in a while, the full weight of it hits me all over. He’s gone… really gone.
I nod. “Month before my freshman year.”
“Fuck.” He takes another drink from his beer. “I had no idea. I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.”
“My parents don’t give a fuck most the time, but at least they’re alive.”
I’d sort of gathered that from his grumblings in the past and the fact I’ve never met them, but it breaks down something between us to admit our shit to one another. “I’m sorry, too.”
“Talk to Coach Daniels. If there’s anything he can do to help, he will. And if not, you know the guys and I got your back.”
I hate asking for help, but in this instance, I think Wes might be right. It might be time to admit I can’t figure this out on my own. “Alright.”
He gives me a wry smile. “Okay, can we stop having a heart to heart now and play some 2K20?”
“Whatever you want, Couch Dubya.”