I fist her shirt and use it to pull her to me. I lean in to kiss her, but she pulls away. “Wait.” She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I know you’ve seen the scars on my stomach, but…” Her chest heaves with breaths coming fast and ragged. “They’re all over my body.” She waves a hand down her left side. “If this is our last weekend together, I want to be with you. Really be with you, with nothing between us, but I don’t want you to be surprised by just how extensive the scarring is, and if it’s too much for you to deal with, I’ll understand.”
A vise squeezes my heart. “I don’t care about the scars.”
“You’re a good guy, Zeke, and I know you’d never cut and run or leave me hanging, but I don’t want this to turn into a pity fuck.”
“Are you serious right now?” My voice comes out louder than I’d intended. Hot rage bubbles inside me that she could believe I’m capable of doing such a thing. Can she not see how crazy I am about her?
I lower my voice. “Listen to me, you are not a pity fuck. Not to me and not for any other guy out there. You are beautiful inside and out. Those aren’t just words, they’re facts.”
“You’re just saying that because you’re about to get laid.” She laughs, a hollow, brittle sound.
“No, I’m really not.” I run the pad of my thumb delicately across the scars on her face. “You are beautiful. Not in spite of the scars, but because of them.”
She rolls her eyes. “If you tell me they make me unique and special, I swear to you I will throw myself out the window.”
“You live on the ground level.”
Her brow arches and I chuckle as I search for words to make her believe that when I look at her, I don’t try and see past the scars, I don’t even avoid looking at them. They’re part of her. Maybe not a part she likes, but they make up the person I know as Gabby and I don’t secretly wish she were any different than she is.
“You know what I love most about them?” I bring both hands to her waist and lift the shirt over her head. Next, I unclasp her bra and slide the straps down her arms.
“What?” The whisper of the question comes as the lacy black material hits the floor.
Her nipples are a soft pink that tighten into buds when I follow the path of the scars on her stomach up to where one particularly large one ends on the side of her left breast.
“They mean that you lived. You’re here with me right now. If you think that your scars make me want you any less, you’re wrong. I want you because of them. I want you because you’re here and you’ve made me feel more alive in the past month than I have my entire life. You lived and you brought me to life.”
I try and make her feel and believe with my touch. Soft caresses of her skin. Light kisses trailing over her collarbone and down. I undo the button of her shorts with trembling hands. There’s only this small piece of denim material keeping me from seeing all of her. She takes the initiative and pushes them down. I’m a goner, unable to look anywhere but at her and I’m definitely not subtle about my appreciation.
I take a step back and just keep right on staring at her, wondering how I got so lucky and imagining all the ways I want to show and prove to her that I’m not lying when I say I think she’s beautiful. No, not just beautiful. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
In basketball, we refer to this moment as the triple threat. It’s when a player first gets possession of the ball and can pass, shoot, or dribble. The full range of offensive options are at his disposal. For five seconds, he can question which move to make, but after that, after he makes a move, the options dwindle. Do nothing and he turns the ball over to the other team. Five perfect seconds under pressure to make a decision that can make or break an offense.
This moment feels just like that and I consider my options carefully.
One Mississippi.
Two Mississippi.
Three Mississippi.
Four Mississippi.
36
Gabby
My chest heaves and I suck in a breath while Zeke stares at me. Before the accident, I derived my self-worth, at least in part, from being a beautiful and outgoing girl. Since then, I’ve battled the things people say against the reality of how I feel. People tell me beauty is skin deep. They’re wrong. The longing I feel to be seen as beautiful is rooted deep in my soul.
Right now, I believe I am.
“Lie on the bed.” His voice is deep and thick with emotion.
He pulls the shirt over his head and pushes his shorts and boxers to the floor. When he stands tall, nearly seven feet of muscled perfection, I’m drawn to him in a way that has nothing to do with the way he looks, and I wonder if it’s the same for him.
I hope so… and also not. I want him to want me because he thinks I’m beautiful, but I don’t want him to ignore the ugly either. I want someone to love me for the ugly and the beautiful, and every shade in between. True vulnerability is being seen for everything you are, the good and the bad, and Zeke is the first person I’ve let see every part of me. The fact that he seems to like me, just the way I am, is breathtaking and terrifying all at once.
He starts at my feet, dropping kisses to my ankle and moving up slowly, not skipping an inch of skin. He does the same to the other leg before he climbs on top of me and takes my mouth in the softest and sweetest caress, tracing my lips with his fingers and then his tongue.
Threading his hands through my hair at the nape of my neck, he pulls my hair away from my face and gazes into my eyes.
“Are we gonna have sex now, big guy, or what?” My voice comes out sounding small, the humor I’d meant to inflict not quite hitting the mark.
“Don’t rush me, beautiful girl.” He smirks and grinds his erection against my hip. He brushes a quick kiss on my lips and then pushes himself up so he’s hovering over me. “I gotta get a condom.”
“Wait.” I wrap my arms around him to keep him from leaving. “I’m on birth control.”
“Good.” Is his only response before dropping his mouth to take my left nipple into his mouth.
I squeeze my eyes closed so I don’t have to see his perfect mouth against the scars that wrap around the sensitive mound.
“Hey,” he whispers. “Open your eyes.” He takes my nipple again, sucks and then lets it free with a pop. “Just watch me.”
By the time Zeke finishes kissing literally every inch of my body, I’m practically feverish with my need to come. With his eyes locked on mine, he pushes inside of me, and I watch as his face contorts with the same mixture of contentment and a desire for more. So much more.
I’m spinning so fast. Pleasure mixed with emotion makes my orgasm rise to the surface so quickly we’re just getting started and I’m already so close.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Gabby.” The words come whispered into my ear and I believe him. That belief takes me over the edge, and I respond by screaming his name over and over like a prayer.
37
Gabby
“Movie room in five.” Joel peeks his head into Zeke’s room and then dashes away.
“Your room looks so sad.” Everything Zeke owns, save a change of clothes for tomorrow, is packed in boxes. He’s not officially moving his things out until he knows where he’s going and gets a place, but the room is as good as empty and tomorrow he’ll be gone. “Now that you and Wes are moving out, who’ll move in?”
“I’m not sure. It’s weird to think about a new group of guys moving in.” He zips up the last bag and tosses it on the floor. “I guess that’s it.” He takes a long look around the room and then extends a hand. “Ready for movie night?”
Everyone else is already there when we walk into the movie room. Nathan, Wes, Blair, Katrina, and Joel are all crowded inside. Joel has a bottle of champagne in hand and pops the cork, claiming it’s cause for a classy celebration. When he drinks directly from the bottle, I have to laugh. Classy celebration isn’t really their style anyway.
Joel wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and passes the bott
le to Zeke. “For our last movie night—”
Zeke groans. “For the last time, I’m not dying.” But he’s smiling as he takes a long drink and then hands the champagne to me. Before I can bring it to my lips, he leans in and kisses me, giving me a hint of the sweet liquid he’s drunk.
When we’ve all had our celebratory drink directly from the bottle, Joel holds the bottle up and everyone goes quiet.
“It’s been a wild three years, two together in this house. You guys are more than roommates, more than teammates, more than friends.” He pauses and looks like he’s fighting back real emotion. “We’re brothers and I’m going to miss the hell out of you two.” Clearing his throat, he turns to the TV. “In honor of our la— our final movie night as roommates, I thought we should take it back old school. Top Gun.”
There are exactly enough chairs for all of us, but Zeke pulls me onto his lap, and I curl up so every inch of my body is touching him, soaking up every bit of him I can. I’d been told that movie night was sacred and that talking was strictly prohibited, but there’s no stopping the laughing and quoting the movie at nearly every scene.
I’ve seen the movie before so I spend it watching Zeke’s reaction to the film.
“This one is your favorite?”
He nods proudly.
“Why do you like Tom Cruise so much anyway?”
“My dad liked Tom Cruise. He’d always say, ‘When I’m directing Tom, then I’ll know I’ve made it.’ Tom became an ideal in my mind. Even after my dad left, maybe more so, Tom represented something – achieving my goals, I guess. Plus, he’s awesome.”
“Did he ever get to direct Tom?”
Zeke shakes his head. “No.”
“Do you talk to your dad often?”
“Not since he left. He tried a couple times – once recently after we won the tournament, but I never call him back. He made his choice to have a career instead of a family. There’s no going back from that. He was right, you can’t have both.” He shrugs off the importance of that statement and my stomach knots.
But when Zeke leans in so his lips hover near my ear and sings along softly as Maverick serenades Charlie, I push thoughts of anything but the present and enjoying this night far away.
* * *
After the movie, he says his goodbyes to the guys, and we head upstairs. I’ve never given much thought to the difference between having sex versus making love, but I think it’s the latter we’re doing as Zeke undresses me, kissing me so sweetly, and taking his time bringing us both to orgasm.
“I’m going to miss you,” he says when we’re lying together afterward. His flight is early in the morning, so there will be no time then to say our goodbyes.
“Me too.” I turn so we’re spooning and wrap his arm tightly around my waist. “Thank you for… well just thank you. These past few weeks have meant so much to me. I’ll never forget them, or you.”
He squeezes me playfully. “You sound like Joel. I’m not dying. I’ll see you when I come back to get my stuff. Plus, there’s always phone sex.”
I laugh, but purely for his benefit. I don’t feel anything but sad that he’s leaving, and I can’t tell him that or it sounds like I’m not excited for his future.
“Before I forget, I got you something. It’s waiting at your apartment for you.” He yawns and a not a minute later his breathing evens out.
I don’t know how long it takes me to fall asleep. I lie as still as I can so I don’t wake him and cry silent tears.
The next morning we’re both bleary-eyed as he drops me at my apartment before his flight. He jogs around to the passenger side door and opens it for me. I wrap my arms around him tightly and lean up on my tiptoes until he gets the hint and picks me up so I can wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him like it’s the last time. I hope it’s not.
“Stay out of trouble without me,” he calls as he gets back in his car. I watch him drive away and then walk into my apartment finally letting the loud sobs wrack my body. It’s so stupid. I don’t even know why I’m sad. Casual fun isn’t supposed to end in heartbreak.
Inside my room, I stop short at the pink bike with a big red bow stuck to the basket, just like I said I wanted. A card pokes out of the basket and I grab it and sit on the bed, reading through the sobs: Someday I’m going to buy you a cherry red convertible. Until then… Zeke
38
Gabby
Three Weeks Later
I stop in the middle of campus and sit on the ledge of the fountain that is at the heart of the quad. The hot concrete scalds my legs, but it can’t dim my excitement for this day. Not the one hundred and five temp that makes breathing difficult or the tiny bit of loneliness I’m not admitting to since Zeke left.
My summer classes started today and being at Valley U as a real student is everything I’d ever dreamed of. No, it’s more. I’m taking an art class and a marketing class, trying to broaden my horizons with some classes in subjects I’ve always enjoyed but not considered as a career.
I’m going to finish up my business degree since I’m so close, but I’m leaning toward switching to art as my major. Or marketing. Clearly, I’m still undecided.
Blair sent a text that she and Vanessa are at The White House swimming, so instead of going home to get ready for work, I ride my bike there.
“I thought you didn’t live here anymore,” I tease Wes as I walk out to the pool.
“I’ve got a standing invitation as long as I bring booze or girls when I come.” He lifts the beer in his hand and points to Blair. “I brought both.”
Joel agrees with him, which earns an eye roll from Katrina. He’s all talk, though, the way he looks at her and her son, it’s clear they are it for him.
I slip off my shoes and sit by the pool, dipping my feet into the cool water. “Oh man, that feels great. It’s so freaking hot today.”
Wes takes a seat next to me and offers me a beer.
“Thanks.”
The cold liquid helps to bring my body temp back down. I have to be at work in an hour, so I sip slowly knowing it’ll be my only one.
“Talked to Zeke?”
Heat that is not entirely the sun’s fault blooms in my cheeks. “Yeah. He’s in Illinois visiting his mom and extended family and tomorrow he flies to LA.”
In truth, we’ve talked every day either by text or an actual phone conversation, and one video call from his hotel room in Denver that involved lotion as lube and a memory that is forever burned into my brain. Watching a guy get himself off is seriously hot.
“Joel’s family is hosting the draft party next week. It’ll be good to see him.”
“They are?” I’m a little hurt that in all our conversations, he didn’t think to tell me.
“Oh shit. I’m not sure I was supposed to tell you that.” He rubs a hand over his jaw. “Too late now, I guess. Act surprised when he tells you.”
“I thought the draft was in New York?”
“It is, but you know Zeke isn’t much for the spotlight unless he’s on the court, so he wanted something a little more low key. I have a feeling if Joel’s family hadn’t offered, he would have watched the draft from his phone while practicing somewhere.”
I have so many questions I want to ask, but Blair swims up to the side and the conversation turns to their nightly plans.
“I should go,” I tell them. “I need to change before work. Is it cool if I use Zeke’s old room?” I motion behind me.
With their approval, I set off toward Zeke’s room. The door is closed and when I open it and step inside, his scent wraps around me. I sit on his unmade bed, the bare mattress a reminder that he’s really gone and lie back and fish my phone out of my pocket.
Me: I’m in your room. It still smells like you.
Zeke: Good. Stay right where you are. I’ll be there next week.
Me: So I’ve heard. When do you get in?
Zeke: Wednesday night. Be there at say, eight o’clock?
Me: With bells on.
; Zeke: Better be the only thing you have on.
* * *
Zeke
“Who are you texting and is that a smile on your face?” My mom places the casserole dish in the middle of our kitchen table at precisely six o’clock. It’s been the same way my entire life. Always exactly at six.
“Just a friend from Valley.”
“You didn’t tell me you were dating anyone.” She takes a seat across from me with two plates and pushes one in front of me.
I spoon two large servings of her chicken surprise casserole onto my plate, thankful I don’t have to count calories anymore and pick up my fork before I answer her. “It’s not really like that.”
“Don’t tell me you’re stringing some girl around with that whole friends with benefits crap.”
“Mooom.”
“I’m serious. I raised you better than that.”
“It’s just complicated. She’s still at Valley and I don’t know where I’m going to end up yet.”
“So you and Gabby aren’t going to try long-distance?”
I choke around the mouthful of chicken and it’s the longest thirty seconds ever as I chug water and compose myself, my mother looking on with a smug smile. “How do you know about Gabby?”
“Instagram, of course.”
“You’re on Instagram?”
She rolls her eyes. “You say that like I’m a hundred years old. She seems sweet. How did you meet her?”
“She’s Wes’ girl’s best friend.”
“Ah, how is Wes? I always liked him.”
Thankful for the topic change, I smile. “He’s good. He’s going to be coaching at Valley next year and he seems excited about that.”
The Tip-Off: A Smart Jocks Novel Page 17