by A. J. Briar
Fixing the cocky persona, I’ve perfected over the years back into place, the momentary lapse of shock passes as I step up to grab a ball. Effortlessly, I copy her actions from earlier, the ball sinks the hoop first time. Popping out my dimple, I smirk Isabella’s way, noticing that a few wisps of hair have escaped her high ponytail. If I thought she’d let me, I’d go and tuck them behind her ear, but that’s probably going to earn me a slap in the face or a kick in the balls, neither of which I want. I can’t resist teasing her a little though.
“Is that all you’ve got?” In response, her smile gets even wider, and I find myself captivated by her beauty. She appraises the court and decides to take her shot from the free throw line. I snort at how easy it’ll be to shoot from there, when she throws me a curveball and spins on her heels; her back to the hoop.
Her beautiful face stares right at me, starting with the ball in both hands, between her legs. She whips it up over her head, showing no skill whatsoever. It’s pure luck. The ball sails towards the board.
Holding my breath, my eyes track the movement, praying like hell it misses. My prayers are answered when it bounces off the rim of the ring with a clatter. Isabella turns, her face screwing up, while she curses under her breath. She sidesteps out of the way, so I position myself where she was just standing. I’ve probably done this a hell of a lot more than she has so I take my best shot at it, hoping that luck is on my side once again. We both watch with anticipated breath as the ball recoils against the backboard and into the hoop.
“Fuck. How’d you do that?” Isabella questions, eyeing me up and down, looking for signs I cheated.
“Nope. That’s not how this works. You’re on P. And I get to question you, not the other way round.” I wink and mock think about what I want to ask her. Figuring I shouldn’t beat around the bush too much, I go straight in, all guns a blazing. If we’re going to do this, I might as well get something out of it, and find out some answers myself.
“Do you want to remember?” I fixate my gaze upon hers, searching for her answer, I know she’s reluctant to give. Her shoulders sag slightly, almost in defeat when she confesses.
“No. I didn’t.” My brain tells me to look away, walk away, run away, but I’m rooted to spot. It was always going to be a risky question, and now I’ve heard her answer, I regret asking it. Isabella catches my expression, the disappointment written all over it, and opens her mouth to explain.
“Didn’t as in past tense, Nathan. To begin with, I wanted to run from my memories. But as they slowly start coming back to me, I realize I can’t escape them. Am I happy about having to relive the hurt? No freaking way. But the more I remember, the less broken I feel. If that even makes sense.” She shakes her head; her eyebrows furrows together before she casts her gaze downwards. I stride up to her and tilt her face up to meet my stare.
“It makes perfect sense.” The scent of her vanilla shampoo tickles my nose and I force myself to take a step back needing the space. Everything about her is fucking alluring, especially the fact, she doesn’t realize how enchanting she truly is.
A clang of metal to our right causes us both to jump. Some of the guys leave the locker room and eye us with curious gazes. I wave them off, wanting to get back to this game so I can find out more about Isabella. A few grins accompany the gapes which I’m sure are aimed directly at Isabella. Following their line of sight, I’m pleasantly surprised to see that she’s not giving any of them the time of day; her beautiful teal eyes are solely focused on me. A feeling of warmth spreads throughout my body and as much as I know she’s not meaning to give me hope, it does.
Trying to shake it off, I gesture for her to line up her next shot, which she does. She shoots left-handed, and the ball miraculously ends up through the hoop. I’m sure she thinks she got me here, but recently this is exactly what I’ve been working on. Thank god, coach noticed it from previous games at my old college.
Using my non-dominant hand, I grab the ball and flick it towards the hoop. Man, I’m on fire today watching the ball sink straight through. The game goes on, neither of us relenting, both of us throwing shots, like this is the final of the NBA. Isabella ends up on PI, where I’m still on P. Though, that failed shot wasn’t my fault, Isabella nudged me just as I was about to shoot, causing me to lose footing slightly.
Just as I’m about to win the game by taking a shot from out wide on the court, Logan leaves the locker room. His gaze assesses the situation before going over to talk to Isabella. I abandon my shot and walk over, desperate to know what the two are whispering about. Asking as much, irritation flows through me when Logan replies nothing. He shrugs his shoulders, and leaves, mouthing something to her on his way out. Swiveling back to Isabella, her face is lit up with a shit eating grin.
My eyebrow pulls upwards as I debate whether to ask what that was all about. Isabella doesn’t give me chance though. She throws the ball at me and goads me into taking the shot. I’m about to, when she appears in my line of vision, at the other side of the court. She’s stretching her arms above her head; the action reveals far too much and little at the same time. Her hands then run through her hair, loosening the ponytail to reveal her burgundy hair falling in soft waves around her face. My brain struggles to focus as she does a slow-motion shake of her hair. I try to concentrate on my shot, but all I can think about is running my hands through her luscious locks. She smiles seductively at me and my hands let the ball loose. It doesn’t make it anywhere near the board as my eyes continue to roam over her. Isabella laughs, the sound is literal music to my ears.
“You missed. My turn for a question.” She says in her sing-song voice, her tone light and pleased. It’s almost worth missing, to hear her sound so content. Not one to waste any time, she approaches me before she’s firing her question my way.
“Why’d you transfer here?” She bites the corner of her lip, while I try and figure out a good enough answer. I know I owe her more than a bitter lie, but the truth would ruin her. The truth would ruin a hell of a lot more than just her. Deciding to give her half of the truth, I open up to her.
“I got into some shit. Some real shitty shit. Like the kind that wouldn’t just go away overnight. So, I took the coward’s way out and ran.” Isabella purses her lips together while narrowing her eyes.
“What shit?” Well, I opened myself up to that one. I can see the wheels turning in her head as she tries to work my past out.
“Just a basketball match that went awry fast.” I steal a breath in and pick up the ball. That’s not exactly a lie, though it’s definitely not the full truth. Months ago, I made the biggest mistake of my life and I regret the person I’d become; I definitely don’t need Isabella trying to dig up something, I’d thought I’d buried.
“Come on, let’s focus on the game. I’m dying to win and cook up a juicy punishment for you considering you played me like a fool.” Winking, I throw the ball to her; her reflexes only catching on at the last minute. The ball hurtles towards her, narrowly missing hitting her in the face. As she appraises where to take her shot from yet, a shrill ringing interrupts the silence.
Isabella pulls her phone from her pocket; her nose scrunches up when she reads the caller ID. She drops the ball and mutters the word Isla to me before answering. I cringe thinking of the last time I spoke to Isla and how catastrophic it was; the fucking irony that Isabella was just quizzing me about my past then Isla rings.
Looking away, I down the contents of my water bottle and watch Isabella for any signs that she might know what’s gone on. Her eyes dull, the more they talk, and sweat forms along my brow. Desperately, I try to hear what she’s saying, though Isabella hangs up before I have chance to. I school my features to resemble some sort of peace; praying she doesn’t catch on about the inner turmoil going on in my head.
“I have to go. I forgot that Isla wanted to facetime today. She can be persistent when she wants to be.” Don’t I know it. I struggle to maintain my composure as flashbacks play through my mind. Words
fail me, which I’m sure Isabella notices. Though, she carries on talking. “Rain check on the rest of the game yeah?” She gently questions, trying to rouse a response from me, which gets my head into gear.
“Yeah, of course.” The tension between us is awkward for the first time although I endeavor to do some damage control.
“Hey, what about your article? Do you not need anything else from me? I could always pop round later and help you write it?” If I’m honest, I wish this god damn article would go fuck itself. But maybe if I can be around when she’s writing it, I’ll be able to limit the destruction.
“I think I got everything I need.” Her face goes all cute, giving me a lopsided grin. “Unless there’s anything else you want to share with me?” Pair that smile, with the twinkle in her eye she’s got going on, and I very nearly cave right there and then. Instead, I deflect.
“What if I want to read it though?” I flash her my best panty-melting smile, I know still has the desired effect on her.
“You’ll just have to wait and see.” Winking, she spins on her heels, sauntering out of the gym, without a backwards glance.
I exhale the breath I’ve been holding since she asked me that damn question. Grabbing my phone, I type a text out to Isla. Being around Isabella is bringing all the regret and guilt I feel to the fore point. Yet there’s no chance I’m able to stay away from Isabella. Isla better hold up her end of the deal. After all, if I go down, she’s coming with me.
15
Isabella
“Just be careful, yeah? I trust your judgement but if you’re starting to remember things, it’ll be hard for you to decipher what you think you should feel and what you actually feel.” The concern in Isla’s voice mirrors her expression. Her steely gaze pierces me through the screen. As soon as I got in, Isla facetimed me, demanding to know everything and anything that’s been going on. It wasn’t exactly how I planned to tell her, but she wouldn’t relent.
A feeling of uncertainty washes over me as she questions what is happening between me and Nathan; her curiosity with him has well and truly gained my attention. When she’d rung earlier at the gym, I noticed Nathan’s grimace when he found out it was Isla on the phone. Now sat her in front of my laptop screen, I find myself coming to all sorts of conclusions; all bringing a wave of nausea along for the ride.
“All I’m saying B, is look after number one. And if things ever become too much, I’m just a phone call away.” Her tone wobbles while I struggle to maintain a calm composure.
“Thanks Isla,” I whisper through gritted teeth, unsure how to approach her. Obviously, I can’t outright accuse her of anything, especially when I have so many deductions in my head; I’m fairly sure I’ve made this whole thing ten times worse than it actually is.
“How is Nathan?” Isla questions, bringing me out of my thoughts and cementing the doubts I had earlier. Somethings happened between them. I just don’t know what. Deciding to bite the bullet, I ask her.
“What’s going on between you two?” Her eyes narrow in confusion before she stutters on her words.
“What do you mean?” Redness creeps up her neck, the longer I pin her with my glare. Now more than ever, I realize that something is up, and I’m determined to find out what. I swear if they’ve slept together, I’m done. Images flash up in my brain of the two of them, causing tears to build. Blinking them away, I spit my words out.
“I mean what’s going on between the two of you. I’m not blind Isla. Something has obviously happened between you both and I need to know what. He was acting shifty earlier and you’re acting shifty now. Please Isla. Whatever it is, just tell me. I can handle it.” Isla’s whole face scrunches up when she leans closer to the camera. Her expression fills the screen and I’m actually glad that she’s there and I’m here. A murderous look crosses her features before being replaced by a desolate one, which haunts me to my bones.
“You think I slept with him?” Her voice is low and full of so much emotion, I almost miss what she says. The tears I’ve been fighting to keep at bay, leak down my cheeks as I break slowly.
“Isabella, I know when I was younger, I was reckless. But you have to know that under no circumstance, would I ever do something that could potentially hurt you like that. All I’ve ever tried to do is my best to do right by you. And I know in the past I wasn’t always the best sister, but you have to know, I would never do that to you.” I let the words sink in, my vision is completely blurred by the tears that refuse to stop falling. “You need to remember that everything I’ve done is to protect you.” Isla continues talking but I switch off to what she says. The relief that floods my body provides instant respite from my inner demons. Taking a deep breath in, I manage to calm the fear I feel inside.
“B, did you hear what I said?” I snap out of my reverie and try to recall what she’d been talking about; however, it becomes an entirely fruitless effort.
“Sorry, I missed that last bit. What’d you say?” My eyes, that are no longer filled with tears, actually focus on Isla. Her expression mirrors mine, both rocking the red puffy eye look and snotty nose.
“Pfft. I mention my birthday and you ignore me. And the award for the best sister goes to…” She trails off while creating a drumroll effect on the coffee table. I laugh, thankful that even after our disastrous conversation before, she’s able to make light of it all.
“Alright. I’m sorry okay? I’ll definitely be making it up to you when I come visit in a few weeks’ time.” Isla’s jaw drops as she gasps.
“You’re going to come here?” I knew she’d be surprised but the more I think about it, the more I realize I need to go back. I’m done running and maybe it’ll be cathartic to be back in Grove Hill again. Telling Isla as much, her smile widens before tears form in her eyes.
“No more tears. This is a good thing. I promise. Anyway, I need to go. Studying doesn’t just happen by itself.” I blow her a kiss while she whispers goodbye. Truth is, I’m not entirely sold that it’s a good idea, but I’m sick of feeling like I’m a captive in my own mind. Maybe going back to the place where it all happened, will trigger more and I’ll actually feel like I’m in some sort of control.
Keeping my laptop on, I grab my notepad from my bag and settle back onto my bed. I wasn’t lying about the studying bit; I actually need to write this assignment. I know I wanted to find out about Nathan’s past, but he really didn’t give me much to work on. My earlier assumption about him and Isla was way off the mark. And I’m sure Isla wouldn’t lie to me, not after everything we’ve been through. I feel like I’m back at square one, not really sure about anything when it comes to Nathan. It’s completely disorientating having that feeling of knowing someone, but not really knowing them.
My fingers race over the keys, as I let all my inner thoughts free about Nathan. How he’s created this persona to deal with the pressure, whether that stems from the hurt I caused, or the spotlight of being a damn good basketball player, I have no idea. You can see it in his eyes, the difference, when he puts on a show to when he lets his guard slip. Like today, I threw him a massive curveball by showing up at practice, which in turn allowed him to open up, even if it was only slightly. Remembering his comments about the basketball match that went awry, I go all Nancy Drew on his ass and try to figure out what’s gone on.
I’m about to give up, when I notice that his last college match was against Lake Worth. The name sounds familiar considering that’s where I spent most of my life before the crash that killed my parents. Before my first boyfriend, Noah, decided to publicly break and ruin me. The pain of what he put me through is all too real, as I recall every pinnacle of hurt. I’m insanely glad that I haven’t seen or heard from the guy since well, I can’t even remember.
My eyes focus on the stats from the game, and I notice that Nathan’s are shockingly low. Following a link to a fan made blog site, I read an article that provides a play by play of the match. Nathan might as well have been playing with his eyes closed and hands tied,
with the amount of fumbles he made throughout the game, that was until he was eventually benched. Whoever wrote this blog obviously had a huge crush on him though. They paint him as a hero, even though they lost the match and he played like shit. The last few lines of the post eludes to what could have caused Nathan’s loss of performance, all of which are just assumptions from an obsessed fan though. Whatever happened, must have messed him up big time. Enough for him to lose his game completely. I’ve seen the dude play and he’s definitely a force to be reckoned with on court.
Sensing where I can take my article, I incorporate his downfall, crediting it to lack of focus and drive, that he definitely seems to have recovered here. I compare his story to that of a phoenix rising up from the ashes, hoping that the professor will like the analogy. After this, I throw in a few quotes from Nathan about the team, knowing that’ll earn him a few brownie points and finish the assignment. Rereading the end product, I check for mistakes and print it off, ready to hand in.
Letting out a sigh of relief, I lean back, stretching away the aches from being sat cross legged for so long. Thank the lord, that that’s done. Fingers crossed, our next one won’t involve delving into my ex’s past.
Shoving my things to the floor, I grab my phone which I abandoned earlier. I half expect a text off Nathan, but the no new notifications taunts me. Throwing it on the bed, I change into my pjs, the assignment taking way longer than I thought it would. The dark sky that peeks in through my window attests to that.