by Jeff Shelby
He rebounded my made shot and bounced the ball out to me. “Keep sticking those, we'll be good.”
I caught the ball, dribbled hard to my left, and shot again. The ball dropped softly through the net. “Yep.”
He grabbed the ball out of the net and bounced it out to me again. “Look. We need to get straight here.”
I caught the ball, dribbled hard to my right, and shot. Same result.
He caught the ball as it fell through the net, but held onto it. “You hear me?”
“I heard you.”
He dribbled across the key toward me. “Amy and I used to have a thing. It was intense. Then we broke up last year.” He spun the ball in his hands. “She was not cool with it. At all.”
That was the exact opposite impression I'd gotten from talking to Amy, but it meshed with what Jake said. Sort of.
“For some reason, she was borderline stalker all summer,” he continued, still spinning the ball. “I was trying to be cool and all, but I finally had to tell her to leave me alone. And she did, more or less, until school started again.”
The doors to the locker room opened and several of the guys came out, glancing at us, grabbing balls from the rack and moving toward the baskets at the other end.
“So Friday night, right?” he said, the corner of his mouth hooked into a small grin. “I saw her talking to you. And I'm not gonna lie. It bugged me.”
Which explained the look he'd given me that night.
“Not that I want her back,” he said quickly. “Jesus, she's a fucking mess. But it was just...weird, seeing her come on to you. We don't do that here, alright? Exes are off limits.”
I didn't know. I didn't know anything.
“So when she came back in from talking to you, I cornered her,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “I told her I didn't like it. And she totally knew I wouldn't like it.” He smiled and shook his head. “She knew it. And, look, I don't wanna say it, but...”
“She used me,” I said, nodding. “I got it.”
“I guess,” he said. “Yeah, maybe. So we started talking and you gotta understand. Me and her, we go way back. Lots of history. On again, off again kinda thing.”
I nodded. I was starting to feel stupid, like I'd overreacted and come off like a total jackass.
“So I wasn't trying to move in on you. I swear.” He spun the ball again. “But there's just this...thing with her. And it sorta sparked up.” He paused. “I asked her if she wanted to go upstairs and she said yeah.”
I could feel the donkey ears sprouting out of the top of my head.
“And here's the part I need to trust you with,” he said, stepping closer to me. The ball stilled in his hands. “Can I trust you, Brady?”
I hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah.”
He waited a second, studying me. He glanced over my shoulder, like he needed to make sure no one else could hear what he was saying. “Amy's...dude, she's like a fucking tornado in bed, alright? I don't know what kind of girls you've been with, but I can pretty much guarantee you've never rolled with someone like her. Mind blowing. For real.”
I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. I wasn't comfortable listening to anything about what their sex life was like, especially since I had nothing to compare it to.
“So we're up in one of the bedrooms and we're in the middle of it,” he says, lowering his voice. “And the door opens. It's Ty and Blake, and they're drunker than shit. I start yelling for them to get the fuck out. And Amy...she says no. Let them stay.” He shook his head. “No joke. She wanted them to stay. And after that?” He shook his head again like he still couldn't believe it. “She's not my girlfriend, so I couldn't tell her what to do. And she just went off. Shit just got crazy, like the shit you see in movies.”
I swallowed hard. As if hearing that Amy used me wasn't bad enough, now I was having to hear about her hooking up with my teammates. It was all uncomfortable.
“And I don't know what the deal is now,” he said. “Yeah, people found out, but I don't know how. And I guess she's pissed. But that's not my fault. It was her call.” He paused, then tossed me the ball. “So that's what went down.”
I clutched the ball in my hands. The leather was a dull light brown, the lettering faded and worn down. I always shot with that ball in practice. It felt light in my fingers. It was solid, familiar, and my fingers tightened on it.
I looked at Derek. “Okay.”
“Yeah?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. “Because I don't want there to be any shit between us, man. If you're pissed at me for hooking up with her...”
“I'm not,” I said, cutting him off. “I'm not.”
He nodded slowly. “Okay. Good. Because if I'd known it was gonna mess you up or whatever, I woulda told her no. I'm not like that. I'm not gonna pick some girl over a teammate.” He gave me a small smile. “We can't do that to one another. Because that isn't cool. And we need to be cool so good things happen in this gym, on this team.”
The whistle blew at the other end and Coach was down there, calling everyone down.
“So we're good?” Derek asked, holding out a fist.
I looked at his fist. I hadn't known him long, but I got the feeling that Derek liked being in control. Being the king, as Jake put it. He was used to controlling the action and wasn't real happy when anyone got in the way. This was his way of smoothing things out, making sure he still had the upper hand, while seeming like he'd sort of apologized and made everything right. I was already tired of his act.
“Yeah,” I lied, bumping his fist. “We're good.”
TWENTY THREE
We got through practice without incident. I played the good teammate, passing when I was supposed to, finding the right spots, clapping when we did something well. But I felt like an outsider. I didn't feel like I really knew any of the guys on the team and it was weird. Even when I was in Colorado and stuck on the JV, I was tight with the guys on the team, even with the guys on varsity. Sure, I was pissed that I was playing JV, but I didn’t take it out on my teammates. There was camaraderie as you stuck it out in practices during a long season, listening to coaches say the same things over and over. It was stupid to say it was like going to war together because basketball wasn't war, but it did feel like you were going into battle as a group.
But with these guys, even as good as we were, I didn't trust them, and I wasn't sure I liked them, either.
I showered and dressed quickly, anxious to get out of there and clear my head. I walked outside and ducked into the evening breeze. The sky was dark, thick with low clouds that seemed to hover right above my head, and I wondered if I would make it home before the rain started. I was almost to the bike rack when I saw Cameron's car idling at the curb. I walked over to the passenger side.
She dropped the window. She'd ditched the ponytail and her blond hair hung loose. She pushed a strand away from her face and tucked it behind her ear. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“I thought you might want a ride home,” she said.
“I've got my bike.”
She glanced at the back of her white Jeep Cherokee. “We can throw it in the back.”
“Why are you still here?”
She smiled. “I had to do a retake on my math test. So I could fail it a second time.”
“Oh.”
The back hatch popped open. “I think your bike will fit,” she said, eyeing the space one more time.
“You really don't have to.”
“I don't mind,” she said. “I want to.”
I pulled my bike from the rack, wheeled it over to her car, and fit it in the back.
I slid into the passenger seat and closed the door. “Thanks.”
“Don't thank me,” she said, pulling away from the curb. She reached out and lowered the volume on the radio. “I wanted to see you. I felt bad after lunch.”
I didn't say anything as she turned out on to the street.
“How was practice?” she asked.
“F
ine,” I said.
“Did you and Derek, like, talk?”
My knee began to bounce. “Yeah.”
“Are things cool with you guys now?”
“Sure.”
“What does that mean?”
My knee bounced faster. “It means he told me what happened at the party,” I said. “That he and Amy hooked up.” I didn't tell her the other part, that Derek thought I was pissed because I liked her. I didn't know Cam that well but I was pretty sure no chick would want to hear the guy they were with might be into some other girl. “That was about it, I guess.”
“He told you about what happened at the party?”
I put my hand on my knee and shifted in my seat. “Yeah. I assume it's the same stuff you were saying was on Twitter or whatever.”
She nodded, but didn't say anything.
“Just seems weird to me,” I said, glancing out the window.
Raindrops pelted the windshield. “What does?”
“Just...I don't know,” I said. “Just the fact that she slept with Derek and...whoever else.”
Cam shook her head. “People are...I don't know. Crazy, I guess.”
“I mean, don't you think that's weird?” I asked. “I don't know anyone who's ever...done that.”
She hit her turn signal and rolled her shoulders a bit. “I don't know. I've heard lots of stuff about lots of people. And I've heard things about Amy before.” She shrugged again. “So it doesn't totally blow my mind.”
Which just made me feel like the king of all virgins.
I gave her directions to my apartment and we pulled into the lot. I tried to look at it through her eyes. The stucco exterior that looked more gray than white, the bank of mailboxes sheltered under a dilapidated canopy. The pool visible around the corner, the concrete deck filled with more broken chairs than usable ones. I'd never been ashamed of where I lived but it didn't exactly feel comfortable, exposing this part of my life to her.
The rain was coming down harder now. I fished in my bag for my house key. “Thanks for the ride.”
“I can help you with the bike,” she said.
“No, I'm okay,” I said, but she was already opening her door.
I jogged around to the back of the car and she was yanking on the bike as the rain came down harder. I grabbed the frame and the handlebars, twisted them as I lifted it out. I set it on the ground and ran it to the front door of the apartment. I set it under the awning on the small square patio and realized I'd left my bag on the front seat. I turned around to get it but Cam was already racing across the lot with my bag, ducking her head against the rain.
I shoved my key in the door and waved her in just as the rain started coming down in buckets, splattering against the pavement and pelting everything in sight. She scooted past me into the entryway and I shut the door behind us.
Cam wiped at the hair plastered to her forehead and brushed her feet against the small mat on the floor. “I'm a little wet.”
“I'm sorry. I was coming back to get it.”
“It's just water,” she said, smiling. She looked around the apartment and I waited for her demeanor to change as she took in the sparse furnishings and even sparser decorations. The apartment had never looked so stark, so bachelor-like, than it did right then. But if she noticed, she didn't comment. Instead, she said, “What smells so good?”
I inhaled. “Brownies, I think. My dad must've made some.” I kicked off my shoes. “Do you want a towel?”
“Sure.”
I saw the pan covered in foil on the kitchen counter, along with a note.
Don't eat them all. Went in early so I can get to the game on Friday. Love you.
I went to the hall closet and grabbed the nicest towel I could find and hurried back out to the living room. Cam was still standing by the door, rubbing her arms.
“You can sit down,” I said, handing her the towel. “If you want.”
“You sure?”
I wasn't. I was in new territory. A girl in my crappy apartment. A hot girl who I didn't know much about, other than she was a good kisser and seemed to like getting halfway naked with me.
“Yeah,” I said. Then, “You want a brownie? Pretty sure they're frosted.”
“Frosted?” she said, wide-eyed. “Are you kidding me? Yes, I want one.”
“He can make anything,” I said.
She put the towel over her head, rubbed it, and pulled it off. Her hair was a mass of wet tangles and her T-shirt clung to her body, soaked from the rain. I could see the outline of her bra. I didn't look away. She kind of brushed the towel against her shirt and her jeans, then shrugged and handed it back to me. “That's about as good as it's gonna get.”
I hung the damp towel over the back of the chair at the kitchen table and went to the counter. I sliced up the brownies, slid two of them onto plates. I carried them over to the couch, handing her one.
“Holy crap,” she said. “These look amazing.”
“I'm serious,” I said. “My dad can make anything.”
She took a massive bite and closed her eyes. She chewed for a minute, then opened her eyes. “That might be the best thing I've ever eaten.”
I laughed. “He makes stuff like this all the time.”
“I'd weigh three hundred pounds if I were you,” she said, breaking off another piece and putting it in her mouth. “What's the best thing he makes?”
“Chicken enchiladas,” I said. “And he makes a cheeseburger pizza that's killer.”
“Cheeseburger pizza?”
“Yeah. Pickles and everything. It's really good.”
“I need to eat dinner here,” she said.
I didn't say anything, just bit off a bite of brownie and chewed.
She finished her brownie and looked at me. “Sorry. Just saying his food's really good.”
I took the empty plate from her. “You can come over for dinner if you want.”
“I'd invite you for dinner at my house, but it's pretty much microwaved meals every single night,” she said.
“Your mom doesn't cook?”
She shook her head. “Rarely and when she does, it's bad. She's a lawyer. Both of my parents are. So they work a ton and when they get home, they rarely feel like making dinner. They either pick something up on the way home or shove a frozen pizza in the micro.”
“I can't remember the last time I ate something frozen. My dad cooks nearly every single meal for us.”
“My younger brothers are better cooks than either of my parents,” she said. “They can at least make cookies. And pancakes.”
“Where are they during the day if your parents work a lot?” I asked.
“School first,” she explained. “Then we have a nanny. Virginia. She was my nanny, too. She picks them up from school and gets them to their sports and stuff. Getting a car allowed me to escape Virginia.”
“You don't like her?”
She shrugged. “She's fine, I guess. But she's not my mom, you know? And I used to get pissed that she wasn't my mom. Just bugged. Plus, I thought if we were going to have a nanny she should at least be like Mary Poppins and be able to fly and shit.”
I laughed and stood. I walked the plates to the kitchen, rinsed them off, and stuck them in the dishwasher. I liked Cam. I still didn't feel that spark I felt with Amy, where everything went electric around me, but I liked her. Maybe I didn't need the spark or maybe I'd just imagined it was there with Amy.
I went back to the couch. She tucked her legs under her and hugged herself.
“You cold?”
She wrinkled her nose and nodded.
I picked up a flannel blanket next to the sofa. I shook it out and laid it over her.
“I should probably go soon,” she said.
“It's fine,” I said. “You can stay if you want.”
“You want me to?”
I hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah.”
“You're not still pissed at me?”
“I wasn't pissed at you.”
; She made a face. “Pretty sure you were.”
“I didn't like the whole 'are you guys on the rocks' comment. But that wasn't your fault,” I said. “What bugged me was that it didn't feel like you were on my side, you know?”
“I am on your side.”
“But you didn't say anything. Or tell me what went on. Felt like you were bailing on me.” I paused. “I mean, they were totally wrecking Amy and putting me off. I guess I wanted you to stand up and leave with me. I don't know. Hard to explain.”
“I thought you wanted to be alone,” she said. “You got pissed in a hurry. And I thought I'd just make it worse if I came after you. I didn't want to make a scene for you.”
I shrugged.
“And I didn't know what to say about Amy,” she said. “I was still maybe trying to give her the benefit of the doubt. I wondered if maybe those guys were just talking shit and exaggerating. I mean, I saw the texts, what people were saying, but I don’t know…it wasn’t like they proved anything. I wasn't there. I was with you. So I don't know what happened.”
Which was fair. She wasn't there. She didn't know what happened anymore than I did.
“I've been friends with those guys for a long time,” she said. “And I know it's not cool, but sometimes, they are hard to stand up to. So, yeah, I probably should've said something. I'm sorry now that I didn't.”
I tilted my head back on the sofa. “Derek always been like this?”
She chewed the inside of her cheek and pulled the blanket up to her chin. “Derek's just Derek. He's full of shit sometimes, but he's okay most of the time.” She held out an edge of the blanket. “Here. You're cold.”
I slid closer to her and got under the blanket. It was warm underneath, and our legs were touching. I didn't mind and I didn't think she did either because she didn't move away.
“I didn't know if you were gonna talk to me again,” she said, pushing her damp hair off her forehead again. “That's actually why I was waiting for you.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “Yeah, the way you just stood up and bailed. I figured you were done. Cutting the cord.”
I shrugged. “I was pissed. But I wouldn't just cut you off like that.”
“Good,” she said, her hand finding my knee under the blanket. “So it's okay that I'm here?”