by Autumn Avery
I’m sitting by myself. Shannon didn’t come because I intentionally didn’t tell her. How would I explain my sudden change of heart?
“Oh, hey. Tommy and I hooked up in my bed last night while you were sleeping. Yeah, he fingered me and I sucked his dick. No big deal!”
That would go over really well.
Luckily my afternoon was open. To be honest though, I probably would have skipped class just to be here and that is so unlike me. But Tommy has my head spinning and my insides twisted up, and it’s been that way since I met him. The whole experience has been like a whirlwind and I still don’t feel like I have my feet underneath me.
Last night’s events are still fresh in my mind. I didn’t even shower this morning. I wanted to still smell like Tommy. My bed sheets still have his scent on them and I can still remember how he tastes.
I should be brimming over with anxiety in a crowd like this. I can smell beer some freshmen behind me snuck in with them, and the body odor of the people around me. Thankfully it’s not overly hot in here or I’d be very uncomfortable. I’m not the best with crowds of people when I’m alone, but somehow I feel better knowing Tommy is close by.
It’s a weird thing to say, but when I look toward the locker rooms where the team will come out in a few minutes, I instantly feel like I’m a part of all this. Tommy Mason and I have a connection, and it’s one that he hasn’t shared with other girls. I know it. I know it with all my heart and soul and no one will convince me otherwise.
How many girls has Tommy laid with and invited to his game to watch him? I don’t think I’m being naïve when I say probably none. He just doesn’t strike me as that kind of guy.
Just as my mind starts floating off into lovey-dovey Tommy and Grace land, the stadium around me goes nuts and the team jogs out from the locker rooms and takes the court. I’ve never been into sports, but even I have to admit it’s exciting. I see Joey, Tommy’s roommate, come out and make a layup and pass to another player. And then I see Tommy.
He moves like he’s the king of the court, just overflowing with confidence like I’ve never seen. He’s a different man right now – not the romantic man I laid with last night. No, this is a man on a mission, and that mission is to win.
Joey bounces a pass to him and Tommy shoots a three. Swish. Watching him is even hotter than I thought it would be. He’s in his element and I can’t wait to see what happens when the game begins.
The two teams warm up for a while and then the game begins. Honestly, I really have no idea what goes on in a basketball game besides one team trying to get the ball in the other team’s basket, but what I do know is that Tommy is every bit the man they say he is, and more.
It’s clear that he’s miles ahead of the rest of the guys on the court and he’s destined for the pros. By the end of the first quarter he’s already scored seventeen points and it’s very clear the other team is doing everything they can to slow him down. Whenever he’s got the ball, instantly there are two guys covering him.
But it doesn’t matter. The other team has a guy that must be almost seven feet tall, and he keeps trying to block Tommy’s shots, but Tommy’s too fast. He fakes him out and hits a three-pointer, then steals it from him on defense, and passes it to Joey, who makes an easy layup.
The crowd’s going wild and I start to understand why these games are as popular as they are. But my thoughts aren’t on the people around me, the thousands of cell phones and screaming fans. They’re on Tommy, last night, and all the nights to come.
I’m lost in the game for the entire first half. I’ve seen Tommy eye the stands from time to time, but his mind is on the game, and I totally understand. I want him to see me though. I want him to know that I did come to support him. I am pretty sure he believed me when I told him I would, but still, I want him to see me.
UCONN is up by twelve at the half when the buzzer sounds and the team gives each other high fives and heads back to the locker rooms. And that’s when Tommy stops at the bench, turns and scans the crowd with his eyes. But his back is toward me. He’s looking the wrong way.
“Tommy!” I shout like an idiot. There’s no way he can hear me over the roar of the other fans calling his name.
He takes a step toward the locker room and my heart sinks. He’s not going to see me. But then, he turns back and looks my way. Instantly, I’m on my feet waving my arms like a lunatic. Of course, I probably don’t look any more excited than anyone else around me, but for me, it’s pretty outgoing.
“Tommy!” I shout again, still hopeful that he will somehow hear me and find me in the crowd. But it’s just too loud. His eyes scan across the arena, over the band, a small group of fans for the other team, booing and jeering him. He completely ignores them and then finally, he sees me.
I squeal like a little girl and wave, showing him my UCONN t-shirt I bought in the lobby downstairs. His eyes light up when he sees me and he smiles, giving me that trademark Tommy Mason grin. My heart swells as he raises his arm and points to me.
Instantly, every face in the arena is on me.
“Who is that?”
“Who is he pointing at?”
“Is that his girlfriend or something?”
I hear the voices and whispers all around me as people try to figure out why Tommy is pointing at some random girl in the stands. I feel like all the house lights have come down and there’s a spotlight on only me. Goosebumps break out all over my body and I look around me to a thousand inquisitive faces. People are filming me with their phones and I just know I’m going to be all over the internet within minutes.
What is he doing to me!?
I turn to him and must look like a total deer in the headlights. But Tommy just laughs, smiles at me, waves, and turns around and heads back to the locker room.
“Seriously, is that his girlfriend?” A girl squeaks behind me. I turn and give her a sidelong glance and see that she’s a sorority type, going for the cheerleader look, with a cutoff t-shirt made into a crop top and a mini skirt. She’s shooting daggers at me with her eyes, and as I turn back around, I can only smile.
19
Tommy
Tommy
* * *
She actually came.
I don’t fucking believe it. Well, that’s not true. I do believe it, but it’s still pretty unbelievable. A girl like Grace, and a guy like me, and her actually showing up to Gampel for a game? Pretty fucking out of character for both of us. And that’s what’s making this so awesome.
We’re crushing New Hampshire, but that’s to be expected. Joey’s game is on point today and mine’s where it always is. Hooking up with Grace and not getting much sleep hasn’t even put a slip in my step – not even remotely. In fact, what happened between us last night has me fired the fuck up.
It’s not just the sex, it’s the fact that I knew she was going to be here today watching, and I wanted to really show her who the man is. Everyone else already knows. I mean, I’m a campus legend and it’s expected of me. If anything, when I don’t perform, people are surprised. But Grace? She’s never seen me perform…not on the court.
Every shot I drained today was for her. Adding the points to the scoreboard was just icing on the cake. And the look on her face when I pointed her out in the crowd? Priceless.
I’m sure she’s squirming right now, but I know she liked it. I did too. Everyone’s going to be talking now, wondering what’s going on between us and how serious it is. But most importantly of all, no guys are going to have the balls to hit on her now.
“Yo, who the fuck was that?” Brant, our monster center asks me coming up beside me. “That chick you pointed to? That your wife or some shit?”
I let out a laugh. “Yeah, man. You missed out. We flew to Vegas and got hitched. Bachelor party was fucking crazy!”
“You better watch yourself, man!” Brant jokes, taking a swig of his water.
“No, really,” Joey asks, taking a seat on the bench beside me. “What the Hell? Was that the chi
ck from our floor?”
“It sure was.”
“You just messing with her or something?” Joey asks.
I shrug, take a casual sip of my water. I love fucking with Joey. He’s a good dude, but he’s definitely set in his ways and loves having me as a single wingman. If he finds out I’m thinking of hanging up my player’s cap, he might just have a heart attack.
“Come on, bro,” he says, his voice filled with concern. “I mean – what the fuck!?”
“I’m just fucking with her, man,” I lie. Now is no time to get him freaking out. It’s game time and he needs to be focused. “Don’t worry about it.”
“All right, boys,” I hear coach shout. “Let’s get back out there and finish this!”
I take another swig of my water and filter back out onto the court with the rest of the team. The crowd goes wild. I’ll never get tired of that, but as I make my way to the bench, my eyes are on one person. Grace.
Now that I’ve found her, she stands out and is the first place my eyes go. I can see the people sitting around her reacting as I look at her, trying to gauge her reaction and figure out exactly what’s going on between us. I’m sure people are already talking about it online.
Sometimes I am able to step back from myself and really look at just how odd my life is compared to everyone else. Just pointing to a girl causes this ripple effect of gossip and chit chat, everyone wanting to know what’s going on in my personal life. And I’m not even in the pros yet!
I turn back to the bench as coach gives us his pep talk.
“All right, boys. We’ve got ‘em. No problem. Just keep up what we’ve been doing and it’s an easy win. Hey, Joey!” Coach smacks Joey on the side of the head. I realize he’s been looking over at Grace with a “who the fuck is she?” look on his face. “Get your head in the game, boy. There’s plenty of time to chase the girls after we win.”
I laugh to myself as the buzzer goes off and we step onto the court. My eyes feel like they’re being pulled by gravity toward Grace and I have to force myself to focus on the game. Brant wins the tipoff and passes to Joey. I circle around to his left and catch the pass, drain a three and the crowd goes nuts.
“Count it,” I say to him as he high fives me. I turn to Grace and smile.
This is how life is supposed to be, and I didn’t realize it until now. What did Kanye say? “One good girl is worth a thousand bitches.” Truer words have never been spoken. I’d trade in every girl before Grace to make sure Grace would be mine. And now my brain is working overtime.
I’ll kick ass for the remaining two years of school and get drafted. I’ll go pro and start making the big bucks. Grace will still be in school, but I’ll wait for her and visit as much as possible. She can come see me on breaks and after she graduates – well, then we’ll just be together.
She’ll be my girl and I’ll have every resource in the world to take care of her. With Grace by my side, there won’t be any distractions, and I can just focus on being the best I can be. No drama. No bullshit. No crazy chicks trying to get my money or get me to get them pregnant. Just Tommy and Grace. And I can’t wait.
I get back on defense as New Hampshire starts taking the ball up the court. Tommy’s guarding the guy hard but he pulls a crossover and heads my way. But as he goes by Joey, he takes one step too far and stumbles slightly, giving me the opportunity.
I launch forward and swat the ball out from underneath him and grab it and start heading down the court. The crowd cheers and I feel the stadium rumble as they get to their feet. A three and a steal in the first thirty seconds of the second half? Tommy Mason’s back at it again!
New Hampshire’s sprinting to catch me and the rest of my team’s coming to support. Joey’s on the right side and he’s open for a shot, but I’m taking it to the basket. Coast to coast, baby!
The guy I stole the ball from is hot on my heels, but I’m too far ahead. This one’s mine. I’m closing in on the hoop. I hear the cheers and I can feel Grace’s eyes on me as I reach the paint. I’m ready to launch, lay it up and do a victory lap on my way back down the court, and that’s when it happens.
Pain shoots through my ankle and I start to fall. The ball drops from my hands and goes out of bounds. I’m falling, and before I hit the floor, I already know what happened.
The New Hampshire player behind me, the one I stole the ball from, tripped me on purpose – kicked me in the ankle, hard. And as I hit the floor, and the pain courses up my ankle, I start to freak out.
“Ah!” I cry out, rolling onto my back and grabbing my ankle with both hands. “Fuck!”
“Hey, man, what the fuck!?” I hear Joey behind me shoving the New Hampshire player. The crowd roars. A fight’s about to break out, but I don’t care about that now. All I can focus on is the pain.
How hard did he kick me?
It feels like my ankle is broken. I can already feel it throbbing as it starts to swell and the pain sweat breaking out across my forehead and cheeks. It’s almost unbearable and I instantly start to panic.
“Goddamn it!” I shout again, gritting my teeth. My entire body is tense as the pain courses up my calf. It’s hot, like I’ve been stuck with a poker. It’s overwhelming, and I’m only faintly aware of the roar and boos of the crowd and of course my teammates freaking out around me.
“Get the doc!” I hear coach shout as he comes up beside me. “Tommy. Tommy! How bad is it? One to ten?”
“Ten!” I grimace.
“Shit,” Coach spits, his voice filled with anger. “That son of a bitch! I’ll have his nuts for this!”
It’s broken. I’m fucked.
Panic and catastrophe invade my mind. Every horrible scenario plays out like a horror movie in my head. There goes college basketball. There goes the big leagues and the big money. There goes Grace…
20
Grace
Grace
* * *
“Tommy!” I’m squealing, pushing my way down the stands toward the court. My heart’s racing. That was a dirty move by that New Hampshire player, and everyone saw it. He just totally kicked Tommy in the ankle! You can’t do that! He didn’t even attempt to make it look like an accident either. They should ban him from the league and kick him out of school.
I push past the fans who are all on their feet, some of them looking as concerned as they would if they just heard their mother got sick, but none of them as are worried as me.
That’s my man out there, I think. It’s amazing how quickly something terrible can clarify things for you. I want Tommy and I want to be his and that’s all there is to it. There is zero confusion inside me when it comes to us, and I can only imagine what he’s going through right now. I need to be there for him.
Someone spills water, I hope, on my arm as I brush by them toward the court. I hop a handrail and brush past the band and race right out onto the floor toward Tommy.
“Hey, hey!” A security guard shouts at me from behind me. He starts to chase after me, but I’m at Tommy’s side before he reaches me. “You can’t be here!” He starts to say, but Tommy, despite all the pain he’s in, looks up and sees me and waves the guard off.
“It’s okay,” he says. The guard backs off and Tommy reaches out his hand to me. My heart swells until my chest feels it’s about to burst, and I feel my eyes well up as I take his hand in mind and squeeze. He squeeze back, hard enough that he almost hurts my hand, and I understand the amount of pain he’s in.
I know Joey is looking at me, and probably every other member of the team, but I don’t care. Right now the only thing that’s important is being there for Tommy.
“All right, buddy,” the coach says. “Let’s get you off the court. Here we go.”
Two guys who look like medics or doctors or something of the sort come up beside Tommy and slide their arms under his and lift him to his feet. He winces in pain and squeezes my hand even tighter. I walk with him as he struggles across the court toward the locker room.
We pass through
the hall and turn into the locker room and the two men set Tommy down on one of the benches. He lays his head back and I kneel down on the floor beside him, my face close to his.
“It’s going to be okay,” I tell him, stroking the side of his face with my hand.
“You don’t know that,” he says, in a moment of honesty and vulnerability that floors me. I feel myself choking up, but push it back down. Now is not that time for that. I have to be strong for him.
“Yes, I do,” I reassure him, looking at him with strength in my eyes that I hope will find its way to him. “You’re Tommy Mason. A little kick to the shin can’t stop you.”
Despite the pain, Tommy has to chuckle. A laugh forces its way out of his lips and he smiles at me. I lean down and kiss his forehead. I can tell the rest of the guys on the team are wondering who the Hell I am but aren’t saying anything.
“All right, Tommy,” the doctor says, coming up behind me. “Let me have a look at it.”
The doctor, a fit-looking guy in his late thirties who looks like he played sports in college too, takes Tommy’s leg gently and examines it.
“This is gonna hurt a bit,” he says. “And I apologize. But hang in there for me. Joey, gimme that ice pack.”
Joey hands the doc an ice pack. He sets it under Tommy’s ankle and rests it on the bench. Tommy’s hand tightens around mine and I lean closer to him, stroking the back of his head with my hand.
“It’s okay,” I whisper in his ear.
The doctor examines Tommy’s ankle, and every time he squeezes, Tommy flinches and tightens his grip on my hand. He’s strong, and it hurts, but I’m not going to let him know that. I’m here for him now, not the other way around.