The Fadeaway: A Smart Jocks Novel

by Jenshak, Rebecca

  It stings to think about how many girls he’s let in past these doors, not gonna lie, but I force a laugh and eye roll and place a hand to my chest dramatically. “So charming.”

  “I, uh, got us out of movie night,” he says.

  “Lucky dogs. Wes is pumped about the new Mission Impossible. See ya later.”

  “Thanks for the tour,” I call after her.

  She disappears down the hall and Joel pulls me to him. “Sorry about that. We don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” At the thought of being denied the full Joel Moreno experience, I realize this is exactly what I signed up for. Hot sex and fun, no strings attached. “I will most definitely put out.”

  He nips at my top lip. “Before you put out, I have a surprise.” He opens the door and pulls me in after him. “Come on.”

  He doesn’t flip on the lights, but he doesn’t need to. The whole back wall of the room is floor to ceiling windows that let in the Arizona sun and give a view of the backyard. French doors lead out to a small balcony and there’s a single chair where I try and picture Joel sitting by himself. Why not two chairs? I know the answer to that without asking, but it makes me a little sad.

  His bed is huge, and I see the custom bedding Blair was talking about – white with blue stripes and the Roadrunner mascot.

  “Wow. My apartment could fit in your room.”

  He looks around like he’s never noticed how big it is and shrugs.

  Grabbing a laptop from a desk, he takes it to the bed and opens it. “I thought we could have our own movie night.”

  Intrigued, I move to sit next to him on the bed and laugh when I see what he’s selected for this intimate moment. “James Bond, really?”

  “You said you’d never seen it. Consider it a critical part of your screenwriting education.”

  I think I’d rather him ravage me again, but I’m completely helpless to say no to what he obviously planned out as a romantic gesture. All those months of restraint and now I’m practically offering myself up on a platter and the tiniest bit disappointed that we’re not going to get naked again immediately but also touched he wants to share something as simple as his favorite movie.

  Gah, I’m conflicted. Leading with my heart is too risky. Letting my body do all the feeling seems a safer and more enjoyable mission.

  He stands quickly. “I forgot the snacks. Be right back.”

  “Bathroom?”

  He points to a door behind me and then leans down and brushes a kiss on my lips before leaving.

  I go through an impressive walk-in closet, my eyes landing on enough shoes to make any woman jealous. And the bathroom. Good God. Inhaling, I can smell and feel him everywhere. It’s cleaner than I expected, dark wood cabinets and white countertops. I pee, wash my hands, and then wander into the shower.

  Which is where he finds me.

  Arms wrap around me and I startle. “You scared me. What if I was peeing?”

  “You really think that would have stopped me?”

  “Boundaries.”

  “Not necessary,” he says, and I swat at him. “What are you doing in my shower?”

  “I’m wondering what would have happened if I’d said yes the very first time you asked me out.”

  I turn to watch his expression, which is pensive, and I assume he doesn’t remember.

  “You told me you’d let me use your shower.”

  “Oh, I remember.” He presses a button and all the lights go out in the bathroom except a light in the middle of the shower, which doubles as a showerhead. Water rains down in front of us and about a dozen water jets spray from every direction. There’s even music playing. “Regretting your answer about now?”

  Yes.

  “No.”

  He presses the button again and the shower turns off. My shirt and leggings aren’t soaked, but I’m uncomfortably wet.

  “Let’s get you out of these wet clothes,” he murmurs.

  “You’ve been waiting your whole life to use that line, haven’t you?”

  He doesn’t answer as he pulls my shirt over my head.

  “What about Bond?”

  “I think he would very much approve of my priorities.”

  I point to the shower controls. “Bond is nothing without his gadgets.”

  “Not true. That’s the coolest thing about James Bond – he doesn’t need money or flash.” He presses the button and the shower turns back on. “But he likes them just the same.”

  31

  Katrina

  “Oh my God. She really died?” I’m crying, and Joel is laughing.

  “Well, yeah. Her death is what makes Bond, Bond.”

  I cry harder, cover my face, but can’t drown out his laughter.

  “I thought you’d like it. Tragic love story and all.”

  “I did.” Another sob breaks free.

  He shuts the laptop and pulls me to him. I’m not usually such a sap. I mean, okay I totally am, but I wasn’t planning on crying in front of him of all people. I was not prepared for the depth of the movie. Or the man next to me.

  “What makes Joel, Joel?”

  After the shower, I put on one of his t-shirts forgoing my bra and he’s got one hand underneath cradling my left boob. He did it the first time during the movie and it resulted in more making out that also required re-starting the movie, but now I’m not even sure he’s aware he’s doing it. His palm just rests there like my left breast is his personal stress ball.

  He doesn’t respond so I ask again. “Vesper dying makes Bond, Bond. What made you, you?”

  I feel his body tense and I lean up on one elbow so I can see him.

  “Nothing nearly as tragic as that. My life has been easy.” His words would be convincing if it weren’t for the gruff tone. He shrugs and continues. “My parents were strict but loving and they set a good example for working hard to achieve my dreams.”

  “Playing in the NBA?” I ask, remembering Blair’s comment about him playing professionally.

  He nods and laces our fingers together. His big palm makes mine look so dainty by comparison. “Yeah, since I was a kid. Don’t really know how or when it started, but I’ve always wanted to be the next Kobe Bryant and play for the Lakers.”

  “Blair said you might drop out to go early.”

  I hold my breath as he answers.

  “I met with an agent earlier today. There are pros and cons either way. My parents really want me to get my degree, but I don’t need it to be a ball player.”

  “What about after?”

  “The plan is to use my ball career to get into sports broadcasting. A good portion of the broadcasters these days are old pros.” He pulls back and places a hand under his chin. “I mean with this handsome mug, I figure I belong on TV one way or another.”

  “That’s why you’re majoring in communications,” I say.

  “What about you? What do you want to do after school?”

  “I don’t know anymore. When I was younger, I imagined myself moving to LA and trying to get a job as a screenwriter, but with Christian and our families being here, I don’t really see that happening. It’s hard enough being an hour away.”

  “LA is only six hours by car.”

  “That’s a long way to shuttle a kid back and forth every week.”

  The awareness of how having a kid makes my life different finally dawns on his face. I can’t just pick up and leave. Christian has a father who, even though he may not be the most reliable, deserves to be able to see his son. Not to mention has a legal right.

  “When do you have to decide about next year?”

  He blows out a breath. “End of April, officially, but I need to decide soon so I can get my parents used to the idea if I do skip my senior year.”

  He’s quiet and lost in thought for a moment before he looks to me and smiles. I feel the mood go with that smile, but I stay silent hoping he’ll share more about his hopes and dreams. What he wants for his life
. Literally anything. He gives so freely and yet holds back so strongly, too. I wait, holding my breath for more words that I’m not even sure matter, but I want all the same.

  * * *

  Joel

  “What’s your schedule like today?”

  Katrina’s eyes dart around us as we walk through campus toward the English building. “Sorry what?”

  I take her backpack that she insisted on carrying herself, from her shoulder and place it on the ground in front of us. Taking her hands, I stop and force her to look at me. “I asked what your schedule was like today? What’s going on with you? You’ve been acting weird since I parked the car. You embarrassed to be seen with me, Kitty?”

  Her gaze previously focused past me, snaps to mine. “What? That’s ridiculous. No.”

  “Then what is it? You’re practically running to class and looking around like you’re afraid someone is going to see you.”

  “People are staring at us,” she says and motions with her head to a group of girls who are indeed looking our way. One of the baseball guys, Clark, passes by and juts his chin up in greeting. “Correction. Everyone is staring at us.”

  “They’re not staring at us. They’re staring at me.” I shrug. I’m used to it. I mean, when you’re as tall as I am, you can’t walk around without people staring. Plus, I’m a social guy so most of them I’ve hung out with or talked to – the others just know who I am.

  She glances around as if verifying my claim. “God, what a life you live,” she says with a smirk.

  Letting go of her hands, I wrap mine around her back and pull her closer. “Not gonna lie, it’s a good life, Kitty. Better when you stay the night and I get to walk you to class.”

  I have to bend down to place my lips on hers. She hesitates and the idea that she might not be into PDA crosses my mind until I hear her sigh and she presses her body to mine. I have zero problem with public displays of anything, so I let my hands travel down to her ass and I pull her hard against me while I sweep my tongue into her mouth.

  When she finally breaks contact, she’s heavy-lidded and breathless. “I’m gonna be late.”

  She doesn’t move and I chuckle as she stares at my lips. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips and instead of doing what I want to do – continue to kiss her senseless – I pick up her bag.

  “Come on, Kitty.”

  After my morning class, I head home. Katrina picked up an extra shift at the café and I don’t have to be back at the gym until later, so I’m bored. I find Z shooting hoops in our home gym. Shocker.

  I grab a ball from the rack and join him. It’s only a half court so it isn’t like he doesn’t see me, but the only acknowledgment I get is his movement to the left side of the basket giving me the other side.

  I don’t usually push Z into talking, but today I need someone to bounce my thoughts off of.

  “You think I’m hurting my chances of being drafted if I stay and finish college?”

  He doesn’t stop shooting as he answers. “Of being drafted? No. If you stay healthy and your numbers are anywhere close to as good as they are now, someone will pick you up. When we win the tournament this year, there will be a lot of press and that might help you get a better deal, but…”

  His words trail off and I mull them over. Z always talks in certainties about us winning. It’s like he’s got God’s ear or maybe he’s just that fucking sure of himself and his ability to carry us to victory. Do I need a better deal? I mean obviously I want a sweet contract, but the dream was always to play in the NBA not sign a multi-million contract.

  “Still undecided?”

  I nod and take a shot that bounces around the rim and out.

  “It’d be pretty sweet if we were both starting our rookie seasons next year.”

  “You gonna actually get out next year, maybe date or at least strike up a conversation with a chick?”

  He grunts.

  “It’s not going to get easier to tell the good ones from the jersey chasers. Might want to consider settling down before you’re a millionaire.”

  I’m not even sure that’s why he’s avoided chicks thus far and his face gives nothing away.

  He stops shooting and looks me dead on. “That what you’re doing with Katrina?”

  Cock my head to the side. “I’d hardly call a couple dates settling down.”

  He raises both eyebrows and stares me down with a look that calls bullshit.

  “Part of me is ready to give all this up and move on, but the other part feels like I’m taking the shortcut.” Like I’ve always done. Easy, uncomplicated, whatever got me the most satisfaction in the moment. That pretty much sums up my life. Especially my relationships. I’ve worked hard at ball and school, but never with women. Not since Polly. Thinking about Katrina and how much harder everything is for her haunts me. I look for the path of least resistance because of one bend in the road. Okay, it was more like a fucking sinkhole, but the way I let it change me… I let it change me like Polly was my Vesper. And fuck that.

  Yes, I’m comparing myself to James Bond. Cars, money, women. I’m not an assassin, but I’m deadly from the three-point line so we’ll call that basically the same thing.

  From the moment I pushed into Katrina’s life, I’ve done things that surprise me. I’ve taken the hard road. Okay, harder than usual but to be fair, I’ve enjoyed every moment of it so not exactly a burden. I’ve changed since I’ve met her and it may have started out as a game to win her over, but it stopped being about that a long time ago.

  “Think I’m gonna stick around another year,” I say, and the words feel right. Finish my degree, keep putting in the work, and go pro when it’s my time.

  “Doesn’t Katrina have another year too?” he asks, smiling so big his teeth make an appearance.

  It’s not about her, though, at least not entirely. He’s got my defenses up and I reach for the first response that comes to me. “That gives me another year before I gotta worry about the serious jersey chasers. Then again, I’ve never discriminated against the girls that are only interested in me because of ball.”

  He grins, and I laugh, but it feels all wrong as it shakes my chest. The words are true. I’ve never cared if a girl was only after me because of who I am and what it means for their sexual bucket list. It didn’t matter because I was using them the same way. Easy, uncomplicated, and meaningless. But now… it doesn’t have the same appeal as it did before.

  32

  Katrina

  Gabby’s place is close to campus in a cute new townhome development. Blair and Vanessa are planning on moving in with her at the end of the semester, so the three-bedroom home looks empty with only Gabby’s odds and ends.

  The guys are moving the heavy stuff and the four of us are pretending to put away kitchen goods.

  Vanessa pours wine into four plastic Valley cups. “We need wine glasses.”

  “Nope.” Blair shakes her head. “I’ve got those and some margarita glasses. They’re at my parents’ house, but I’ll bring them up next time I visit them.”

  I look up in time to see Joel and Z coming through the door with a large round chair that is big enough to curl up in and sleep. The strain of the weight forces Joel’s muscles to bulge around the sleeve of his bicep.

  “Gotta little drool.” Vanessa nudges me and wipes at the corner of her mouth.

  “Shut up.”

  When the moving truck is empty, we push the guys out the door. Wes gives Blair big puppy dog eyes when she tells him she’s staying with Gabby tonight.

  “What about you? Can I convince you to sneak away later?” Joel whispers in my ear.

  “I’ll text you in a bit.”

  He brushes his lips over mine. “Mmm. You taste like wine and bad decisions.”

  “Someone once told me wine makes people emotional,” I tease and try to calm the banging of my heart. My emotions were already in overdrive before I took a sip.

  With a slow nod and smile, he pulls back. “Sweet. I’ll be expect
ing you to spill all your deepest secrets later then.”

  I know he’s joking, but I’m tempted to hold him captive and force the wine down his throat.

  “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

  His gaze rakes over me and my body tingles. “Later, Kitty.”

  Turns out it only takes one hour for the wine to have its desired effect. I’m tipsy and suddenly all I want to do is talk to Joel and tell him I’m falling for him so hard.

  Gabby pulls her hair into a messy bun on top of her head as we listen to Vanessa tell stories about Mario and his giant dick. Blair’s expression is one of shock so I’m confident this hasn’t been something Vanessa has shared before tonight. Damn, wine really is good at drawing out secrets.

  “Seriously, he has to have athletic cups custom made to protect all that.” She motions toward her crotch and then moves her hand down her thigh and stops a good foot down as if to give us a visual of how low her boyfriend’s penis hangs.

  “I can’t hear anymore,” Blair says and covers her ears. “I’ll never be able to look him in the eye again.”

  I’m listening but still caught up watching Gabby. All that blonde hair piled up above her small face makes her look younger. She catches me staring and dips her head like she thinks I’m staring at her scars.

  “Your hair is gorgeous,” I say. “You should wear it up more though. You look like Tinkerbell.”

  She scoffs. “More like Two-Face from Batman but thank you.”

  “Your scars are not that bad. In fact, I think they’ve lightened a lot the past few months,” Blair insists and pulls her into a hug. “You’re a badass Tinkerbell.”

  We burst into laughter. Crying from laughing so hard.

  “Why are we laughing, it’s not even that funny?” Vanessa asks between giggles.

  Another hour and the conversation is back to boys. My fingers hover over Joel’s number in my phone. I write the texts out in my head alternating between funny, sexy, or just casual.