by McLean, Jay
“It’s true,” Connor agrees, plating up Trevor’s food and serving it to him. He ruffles what little hair’s on Trevor’s head. “I’ll wear your jerseys for you, Trevor.”
“Shut up,” Trevor laughs out.
Connor gets his own plate and sits opposite my brother. “Do you miss it? Wearing a jersey?”
“Sometimes,” Trevor replies, shrugging, “but it was never my end goal like it is with you, so it’s not life-defining, you know?”
“What was your end goal… or is…?”
I pretend to be washing the dishes, but I’m listening to every word they’re saying.
Trevor answers, “I always wanted to be a talent scout.”
“Oh, yeah? You’d be good at that.”
“You think?”
“Yeah, or an agent.”
“What makes you think I’d be good at either of those things?”
“Because you care. My agent only really cares about the final numbers. Stats, money. You’d care about the person you’re representing, and you’d make sure they get the best outcome.”
“Maybe,” Trevor replies, and I can hear the contemplation in his tone.
“Would you have to go back to school for it?”
“I guess, yeah. But…” But this is my life now, he doesn’t say.
The conversation dies there, and soon enough we’re all heading out for the day, saying bye to Krystal and Mom at the door.
“What are you doing?” Connor asks, looking over at me on the drive to school.
I turn over a page on my English assignment and answer, “I just wanted to check over this paper real quick. It’s due today, and I only finished it this morning.”
“When this morning?”
“While you were sleeping. Just give me two minutes.”
He stays quiet until I finish reading over it and shove it back in my bag. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“When—how—why—”
“Pick an adverb, any adverb!” I sing.
He chuckles. “I just don’t understand when you have the time to study as hard as you do, and how you managed to get early admittance to all these amazing colleges, and why you do it in the first place if you initially never intended on going.”
I let his words sink in. “Wow. That’s a lot of not understanding.”
“I know; there’s a lot I don’t understand about you.” He smiles over at me.
“Like what?”
“Like, why you’re with me, for one.”
“Your self-deprecation is only cute sometimes.”
“Fine,” he laughs out. “Then I don’t understand how you always manage to deflect every question I throw your way.”
I sigh. “I study at night when Mom goes to bed—”
“But I’m there now, and I don’t see you—”
“I do it once you’re asleep.”
“What? How do I not know that?”
“Because you sleep like the dead.”
“Fair. So next question, how?”
“Early acceptances?”
He nods.
“I had a killer essay. Pity me, I’m the daughter of a wounded war veteran…”
“Ahh.”
“Plus, my grades are good, not great, but good enough.”
He nods again. “So, lastly… why?”
I suck in a huge breath, let it out slowly. “Because it’s always been important to Trevor. There are certain things he doesn’t want me missing out on, and education is one of them. A big chunk of the money we got from the sale of the house went to that, and so I don’t want it to go to waste, and… more than anything, I don’t want to disappoint him. He’s sacrificed so much, the least I could do was give him that.”
Connor nods again as he chews the corner of his lip, and I know him well enough now to realize that means he’s thinking, contemplating.
“What’s on your mind, number three?”
He huffs out a breath. “What are your plans for next year or the year after?”
That’s the million-dollar question right there, and I really should’ve seen it coming. “I’m not sure. I’m actually meeting with Miss Turner about it all today. Hopefully, she can guide me.”
“Isn’t that what the guidance counselor’s for?”
“Yeah, but Miss Turner’s invested in me. I’m her little pet project. Besides, I like her. She’s a good person.”
“She is?”
“Yep. You know she grew up around here? She went to West High. I’m pretty sure she loves her job, but she hates St. Luke’s. You know she’s been asking for funding for three years, and they just keep shutting her down?”
“That sucks.”
“It’s like no one takes mental health seriously around here, especially at that school. We’re the future, and no one gives a shit how we feel. It’s like, your brain’s an organ, right? It should be treated the same way as if you had pain in your kidneys or something. You’d go get it looked at, and everyone around you would tell you to go see a doctor. But when there’s a pain in your brain, these fuckers—”
“You’re preaching to the choir, Ava. I get it.”
“Sorry,” I mumble. “It just sucks for her that no one takes her seriously.” I look through the windshield when he begins to slow down, his gaze focused on the green light.
“Why are you slowing down? It’s green.”
“Go red, go red, go red,” he whispers, then smiles when the light turns amber, rolling the car to a complete stop.
“You could’ve easily made that.”
“I know, but I didn’t want to.” He faces me, a smile tugging on his lips right before he leans across, his mouth pressing to mine, kissing me slowly, openly, perfectly. When he pulls back, he says, “Hi, remember me? I’m your boyfriend, and I’m leaving today for four whole days. I won’t be back until Monday night.”
“I’m sorry.” I hold his arm to my chest while he takes off again. “I know.” Believe me, I know. It’s all I could think about last night while he was sleeping next to me. That, and all the worst possible things that could happen while he’s gone. But I don’t need him to know those things. I want him to go and make the most of it. “It’s only four days,” I say, hoping he doesn’t hear the forced effort in my laugh. “I’m sure you’ll survive.” But I’ll struggle without you, I don’t say.
“I guess we should get used to it, huh?”
I nod, even though the prospect of being away from him for who knows how long kills me inside.
“Well. Duke’s just over two hours away, so if you do stay here, hopefully, I’ll be able to come back whenever I can. You’ll have to keep your bed warm for me though. I’m pretty sure Dad’s planning on going back to Florida.”
“He is?”
Connor nods but doesn’t say much else. When we get to school, he finds a parking spot and gets out to open the door for me. The whole chivalry thing isn’t something I ever thought I wanted—I have arms and legs and can do it all myself—but I kind of love that he does it for me. As soon as I’m out of his truck, he gets bombarded by people wishing him luck for the weekend. I can tell it makes him uncomfortable, but he smiles with every kind gesture, and when it begins to die off, he reaches for me, both his hands linking with mine. “I’ll miss you so much,” he says, just as the warning bell goes off. He curses under his breath, and I kiss him quickly.
“I have to go,” I rush out. Another short kiss. “I’ll see you on Monday.” Then I shrug out of his hold and start running up the steps, the ache in my chest causing the heat behind my eyes. It’s just four days, I keep telling myself. I can do this. With each step up, each inch I move farther from him, the stronger my emotions become. Tears well in my eyes, and I can’t fight them off. And I don’t want to. Shit. I turn quickly, thankful he’s still there watching me. And then I run back to him, faster than I’ve ever run before. I didn’t want him to see me like this, but I can’t let him go without saying goodbye properly. He pushes off his truck when I
get near enough, his arms open, and I practically jump into his embrace, my arms around his neck while he wraps his around my waist. Feet off the ground, my legs circle him. “I don’t want you to go,” I mumble into his neck. It’s stupid and petty, and I’m The Worst Girlfriend Ever.
“Dammit, Ava, don’t mess with my emotions like that!”
I rear back, still holding on to him. “I didn’t want you to know how badly I’ll miss you,” I murmur, unable to control my pout.
He sets me back on my feet but keeps me close. “I’m going to miss you, too. Like crazy. But we’ll call and message every day.”
I nod. “It’s four whole days.”
“It feels like forever.”
“I know.”
“Don’t go getting any other boyfriends while I’m gone.”
I scoff, place my ear to his chest so I can listen to the magic that lives only for me. “You’re not the one who needs to be worried,” I say around the knot in my throat. “There are going to be so many groupies there. Don’t go meeting other girls.” It’s meant to be a half-hearted joke, but I can’t seem to hide the legitimate worry that’s been building inside me.
He shifts the hair away from my face, holding it to the side of my head so he can look me directly in the eyes. “Ava, come on.”
“I know,” I sigh out. “But you’ll be out there doing You things, and I’m the small-town girl you left behind… it’s a tale as old as time.”
“Stop,” he orders.
I shrug. “I’m a little insecure, okay?”
He huffs out a breath, then kisses me once. “What can I do to make you feel better about it?”
Reaching up, I run a finger along his forehead. “Get my name tattooed right here.”
He laughs. “Just A V A?”
Nodding, I say, “And Diaz. Just so it’s clear. Maybe Ava E. D. Diaz.”
“That’s a lot of letters, babe.”
“Well, lucky you have a giant head.”
His head throws back with his laughter, and I smile, pull back a little to give him room to breathe.
“I’m stupid,” I admit. “Go and have a good time. The best time. Forget me.”
“All right. I won’t forget you, but I will try to have a good time without you.”
“Good.”
“You’re going to be late to multimedia, and Miss Salas has been a raging bitch lately.”
“I know.” I kiss him again, and this time, I let my tongue do the talking.
When we pull apart, he asks, “Hey, when I get back, will you do that thing with your tongue on my—”
Laughing, I start to walk away from him for the second time and shout, so everyone around us can hear, “Yes, Connor! I promise! When you get back, I’ll wax your nipples again! Your asshole, too!”
Chapter 27
Ava
My house looks like the Fourth of July the next day, with red, white and blue streamers and balloons scattered throughout the living room. It was Mom’s idea, and I was all for it. Trevor holds on to a lone maroon balloon and raises it in the air. “Gig ‘em, Aggies!” He’s still butt-hurt thinking we never cared about his games, but it was hard to show how proud we were of him when he was all the way in Texas.
We set up around the TV with popcorn and drinks. Mom wears her All-American jersey, and I wear one of Connor’s Wildcats jerseys. Every minute closer to game time, my excitement seems to double. It’s his first national broadcast, and I’m so thrilled for him.
I take a photo of the room and Mom and send them both to Connor with the caption:
We’re just a little excited. Can you tell?
And then one of Trevor frowning with his balloon and write:
He doesn’t count.
I wait until it’s only minutes before the game to send:
I know you won’t see this until after the game, but I just want you to know how proud I am of you, of everything you’ve accomplished and everything you are. No matter what happens today, or tomorrow, or a year from now, you’ll always be my number one, #3. I love you more than the magic inside you.
“Here he is,” Mom says, slapping my leg a little too excitedly.
Trevor turns up the volume as the East team enters the court. They file into a line for the national anthem, and the camera moves past each player. My breath halts when Connor appears on the screen, and then disappears completely when I notice the huge black writing on both his arms. “Did he get tattoos overnight?” Trevor murmurs.
“Go back,” I demand.
“It’s a live stream, dumbass.”
I grunt, wanting to know what the hell’s on his arms. Luckily, just a few minutes later while showing the warm-ups, the announcers seem as intrigued as I am. “What’s on Ledger’s arms?” one of them asks.
“Who knows? Kids with full-sleeve tattoos are a thing these days,” the other retorts.
“Can we zoom in on his arms?” says the first, and the cameraman must hear because he focuses in on one of Connor’s arms while he shoots from the three-point line.
“Is that…” It’s clear the first announcer is trying to read it, but I already know what it says, and my heart plummets from the weight of Connor’s love.
“Ava E. D. Diaz,” I whisper, my smile unrestrained. “Oh, my God…”
“It seems to be a girl’s name,” the announcer laughs out. “What a lucky girl!”
“What’s on the other arm?”
The camera focuses on his other arm, and my grin is so pathetically stupid I can’t help but cry. “First and Forever.”
“Marry him, Ava,” Mom orders.
I plan to…
I keep that thought to myself.
Connor
Ava: Oh, you! I don’t even know what to say, Connor. You blow me away every damn day. I can’t believe you did that!
Ava: Damn, #3. Way to show up!
Ava: Holy shit of a dunk! That backboard’s crying for its mama. I can hear it from here!!!
Ava: Dude, you need to give your opponent a break.
Ava: How the hell were you ranked so low when you’re the best player out there!
Ava: Your agent better be watching this. Making calls. Working deals!
Ava: My boy!!!
Ava: Fuck. I think I’ve lost my voice.
Ava: OMG!!!
Ava: CONNOR LEDGER, EVERYONE!! MV motherfucking P.
Ava: MVP! MVP! MVP!
Ava: Okay, I’m done!
Ava: MVP! MVP! MVP! MVP!
Ava: Okay, now I’m really done.
Ava: You’re so getting lucky when you get back. I’ll do that thing with my tongue that you like. For, like, a month. Every night. Multiple times.
Ava: MVP! MVP! MVP! MVP! MVP! MVP! MVP! MVP! MVP! MVP! MVP! MVP! MVP! MVP! MVP! MVP! MVP! MVP! MVP! MVP! MVP! MVP! MVP! MVP! MVP! MVP! MVP!
Ava: Too much? Too fucking bad!
Ava: I love you. Miss you. Call me when you get done being a fucking MVP! MVP!
My cheeks hurt from the strength of my smile as I read Ava’s texts.
Connor: I just got out of the shower. About to shake hands with some NBA scouts. Wish me luck.
Ava: As if you need it.
Connor: lol. I’ll call you when I’m done?
Ava: Take your time, MVP.
Connor: You’re going to let this get to my head.
Ava: Oh, I’m going to get to your head. All over it. Drool all over that weenus, baby!
Connor: You’re crazy, and I love you.
Ava: I love you more.
Connor: I gotta go. Send nudes.
The few hours after the game are a blur of handshakes and business card collecting. Agents, scouts, even a few pros come out to meet us. I’d planned on showing up and making a name for myself today. I felt like I had something to prove, and so I went out and did it. Never in my dreams did I think I’d get MVP. Not with the caliber of talent that came out to play. It’s insane.
I tell the same story to all the reporters in the press conference after
, my post-game adrenaline enough to push aside my nerves. When it’s all over and I’m walking toward the bus to take us back to the hotel, the first thing I do is go for my phone, read through Ava’s texts again, reminding me of my reason, of my end game. My smile widens when I see the few new messages from her.
Ava: I’m getting your name tattooed on my ass.
Ava: I’m officially a Connor Ledger groupie. I’m one in a million, sure, but I’m THE one in a million, and I also know where to stab someone for an instant kill and silent death… just in case any other girl gets too close.
Ava: Shit. Delete that. OMG. I was kidding, FBI! Haha. *shifty eyes*
Ava: Connor Ledger: St. Luke’s Academy, All-American MVP, Duke Alumni, starting point guard for [insert whatever goddamn NBA team you want because YOU GOT THIS, BABY!].
“Connor?”
I look up, my smile falling instantly. My heart stops, and every muscle in my body solidifies.
“Ledger, you coming?” one of my teammates calls from just inside the bus doors.
“I’ll uh… I’ll catch up with you guys later.”
“You sure?” he asks, and I nod.
I wait for the bus doors to close before taking a breath and glancing at the woman in front of me. Anger flares, but it disappears just as fast. “What… what do you want?”
Her gaze drops, so do her shoulders. “You recognize me?” Her hair’s lighter than I remember. Her eyes, too. And she’s aged. Badly. But she’s still the woman my nightmares are made of.
I clear the ball of nerves rising in my throat and mumble the truth I’ve been holding on to for fifteen years. “It’s a little hard to forget the person who tried to kill you.”
She nods, and it seems like the atmosphere is closing in on us. “I wasn’t sure if you’d remember me,” she says, just above a whisper.
So many times, I’ve thought about this moment, right here, and everything I’d say to her if I got the chance. I push aside my hurt and tell her, “I’d probably remember you more if you’d turn around considering the last time I saw you, you were walking away from me.”