by Nikki Ash
John’s team has possession. He jogs toward the guy with the ball and gets in the way of the defender, then rolls toward the basket. The ball is tossed up high to him, his long arms reach up, and he dunks it. The crowd goes nuts. My pulse jumps and dances, and my stomach is taken over by a million butterflies.
I finally found him. After all this time, I actually found him. I thought I’d be more excited, but reality shoves that excitement right out of the way and instead I’m so nervous I might puke. Knowing where he is means I have to tell him. Every good thing I’ve held onto, about him and that night, will either be proven right or die a spectacularly awful death, right along with my belief in love and soulmates.
Lindsey squeals. Her happiness doesn’t understand my anxiety. “Looks like you’re coming to the party with me after all.”
Chapter Two
John
By the time I get back to my place after the game, The White House is already packed. Two beers and a bottle of Jack are thrust in my hand as I make my way through the kitchen.
My buddy Shaw and his girlfriend Sydney are sharing a bar stool. “Nice job out there tonight,” Shaw says, his arms wrapped around Sydney’s waist as she perches on his lap.
She melts into him. Cartoon hearts hang above their heads and in Shaw’s eyes. They got together over the summer after years of being just friends and it’s still a little weird to see them like this. Weird, but fitting.
“Thanks.” I twist off the top of one of the beers and take a long drink. I haven’t yet decided if it’s a beer or liquor kind of night.
“I think Conner’s vying for a spot on the welcoming committee.” Shaw nods his head toward the freshman. He’s walking around with a stack of cups, offering one to anyone without a drink in hand.
“I’m happy to pass the torch,” I say. Though, he’s doing it all wrong. There’s an art to approaching people and making them feel welcome and wanted in a party this size. I think about helping him for all of two seconds. He’ll figure it out.
I can’t be the sole member of the welcoming committee forever. This is my last year at Valley. It really hit me tonight as I was running out onto the court to a stadium packed with fans. Everything I do from here on out is the last time. Last exhibition game. Last party after the exhibition game.
College has been a blast and I’ve lived it – every second, enjoying and savoring it. Now everyone is making plans for the future and I’m coming to terms with the fact I have no idea what that looks like for me.
Another swig of beer followed by a pull of Jack. The latter jolts my system, pushes away the negative, and awakens a little of the fun guy everyone knows me to be. Liquor it is.
My gaze goes back to Conner in the entryway of the house. Two girls step through the front doors and he fumbles the cups, the entire stack clattering to the floor at their feet. The girls look like they’re two seconds from bolting back out the door.
“Would you look at that?” I motion toward the disaster. “He’s going to start scaring people away.”
“Unlikely.” Shaw shakes his head. “Look around. This place is as packed as usual.”
“It’s killing you. Admit it?” Sydney grins. Her brown eyes twinkle with humor at my expense.
“No. Whatever.” Pushing to my feet, I slide the bottle of Jack and my beers toward Shaw. “I’ll be back for those. I’m just going to see if Conner needs any help. Not because I can’t handle letting someone else be the host but because it’s his first time. Rookie needs guidance.”
“Whatever makes you feel better, dude,” Shaw calls after me.
I live for throwing parties at our place. Maybe it isn’t exactly a noble mission, but I always set out to make sure our guests have a good time.
More people have arrived and they’re picking their cups off the fucking floor like barbarians.
“Conner, my man.” I pat him on the back and smile at the girls helping him collect the fallen cups. “Why don’t you go grab another stack of cups from the pantry. We don’t want our guests using cups that have been on the floor, do we?”
He honest to God looks like he might say yes. I pat him a little harder to encourage him.
“Right. I’ll be back.”
Once Conner has gone, I turn my attention to the girls. One of them is still squatting down picking up cups and I crouch down to help. “Sorry about the mess. I got these. Conner will get you two clean cups. There’s a keg out back and some liquor and mixers in the kitchen. I think someone’s got a tray of shots somewhere too if that’s your thing, but word of warning—they taste delicious, but they are strooong. Don’t have more than two. Trust me on that.”
I finally get all the cups corralled and stand. The girl in front of me is wide-eyed, gaze flitting between me and her friend, who is still crouched down with a handful of cups. Neither has said a word. Conner must have really freaked them out. They’re probably freshmen.
Offering the redhead gawking at me a smile, I lean down to her friend. “Here, let me help you.”
I reach for the cups and when my fingers brush hers, she pulls back like I’ve slapped her. The cups fall to the floor for a second time. What in the hell did Conner say to her?
“I’m sorry,” she mutters quietly as she hurriedly grabs for the cups. Long, thick brown hair hides her downturned face.
“I got it. Really. No worries at all.”
I try again to take the cups from her. This time she lets me. Her face tilts up blessing me with a glimpse of her full mouth and green eyes that lock on mine. Dark lashes flutter around those stunning emerald eyes as heat from her fingertips seep into mine. I feel my throat work as I swallow a thousand different sentences. I’m entranced with a familiarity that I can’t place. She stands quickly, leaving me kneeling at her feet.
She’s dressed in jeans and a simple T-shirt, but her feet are bejeweled with toe rings – one on each foot, and strappy, gold sandals that wrap around her ankles. They’re such a contradiction to the rest of her simple outfit that I find myself smiling at her feet.
I stand tall and look her over more closely. “Hey, don’t I know you?”
Conner reappears. “Here we go, ladies. Sorry about that. I’m a klutz everywhere but on the court.”
They take cups and murmur their thanks.
I’m still staring at the green-eyed girl and trying, and failing, to remember her name. It’s stored somewhere in my thick skull with a million more details that I desperately attempt to recover.
She doesn’t offer anything or respond at all. Okay, maybe I’ve never seen her before, and I just further creeped out some poor freshman who is definitely never coming back. I keep right on staring at her though, even as she clutches onto her friend’s arm and drags her away. She glances back just as they’re exiting toward the keg and I try like hell to read her face for any indication of who she is or how I might know her.
“Dude, this job is stressful,” Conner says. “You make it look easy. Any tips?”
“Yeah, don’t drop the cups.”
His shoulders slump. “I’m sorry. I get nervous around hot girls. I thought having an excuse to talk to them would make it easier.”
Shit. Now I feel like an ass. “It’s all right. They’re just cups.”
He tries to hand them over.
“Nah, man. You got this.” I give him a reassuring smile. “Only way to get better is to practice.”
I’ve passed the torch, I guess. Another last.
After tossing the dirty cups in the recycling and reclaiming my drinks, I head out back. The back yard of The White House is packed tonight. Our parties always draw a big crowd. We’re within walking distance of most campus housing, and unlike the other party houses, we have room for everyone, without cramming into a dingy basement or crowding around a yard half the size of ours.
We have a pool, too. Early October nights are still warm enough that people are stripping down to their suits and getting in the water. Scanning the crowd, a perk of being one of the tal
lest people here, I nod and smile as I weave through familiar faces.
Being the welcoming committee was something I did because I like people. Meeting new ones, talking to all different kinds—jocks, nerds, partiers, the shy, the reluctant, and the overeager. Growing up on a farm twenty miles outside of the city limits, my options for socializing were wrestling with my three brothers or hiding somewhere Dad wouldn’t find me to play video games. School and basketball were my outlets and I took full advantage.
I finally spot the girl from earlier and the friend she came with back near the house. She’s holding a drink and smiling at the circle of people around them. As I walk toward her, I catalog every feature. I’m not great with faces, but hers is a pretty spectacular one that I know I should remember. It’s right on the edge of my memory, but I can’t bring it to focus no matter how hard I try. When I’m within ten feet of her, she notices me approaching.
My legs keep moving ahead at a steady pace, but my pulse lurches forward.
The redheaded friend throws an arm around her shoulders. “This is my friend Rylee. She’s a junior, but this is her first year at Valley.”
Rylee.
Slowly the gears turn and one by one the memories I’ve stored away flash through my brain.
For a solid year, I looked around every corner on campus for her. Her hair was blonde then and she wore these adorable cat-eye glasses, but it’s her. My Rylee.
Technically she was only mine for one night, but it was the craziest night of my life. Spring of my freshman year. The team had just won the national college basketball tournament; everywhere I went people knew who I was and wanted to shake my hand, life was good.
Then I met her. Rylee was shy and a little sassy. Adorable and sweet, unassuming. She had no clue who I was. It was nice to escape, to have someone tell me what they thought without any preconceived notions. Being a basketball player is such a small part of who I am. I’m not going to be a professional ball player and I don’t have any desire to be one of those guys trying to capture the glory years like I’ll never achieve anything greater.
I’m all for living in the moment, but there’s a difference in relishing it and being stuck in place.
Rylee. I must say her name out loud this time because everyone turns to look at me. I feel their eyes on me, but I don’t take mine off her.
Her back straightens and she meets my stare with a penetrating gaze that tells me she recognizes me too. “Hi John.”
Well this night just took a turn for the better.
Chapter Three
Rylee
“It’s really you?” His face lights up with clear recognition.
“You remember me?”
“Rylee. Yes, of course.” He envelopes me in his big arms. A friendly hug, one with no animosity or hostility of the past. And why would there be? He has no idea what I’ve been through these past two years.
“I can’t believe it’s you.” He pulls back and then squeezes me again. His body is warm, and he smells like soap. Something clean and masculine. “Where have you been? How have you been?”
“Good.” I settle for answering only the second question for now. I’m all too conscious that we have an audience. It’s nothing like the first time we hung out. That had been just the two of us off in a corner of the Sig Nu basement. Here, he’s a king, and everyone’s hanging on his every word. “How have you been?”
A deep, light chuckle escapes his lips, and he keeps staring at me as if he expects me to disappear before his very eyes. “Good, yeah. Were you at the game tonight?”
“I was. Yeah, congratulations. You were amazing. I hear the team’s done really well.” My face warms and I want to sink into the patio pavers. I hear the team’s done really well? All the things I planned and dreamed of saying to him if I ever saw him again, and here we are making small talk about basketball.
His face scrunches up in confusion. “That wasn’t the first time you’ve seen us play, was it?”
I nod. “It was. First college basketball game period.”
“I remember you said you weren’t much of a sports fan.”
“Did I say that?”
“Ahhh…” He trails off and glances up, as if he’s trying to remember it exactly. “Pretty much. You basically gave me a dissertation on the unfair balance of athletic versus academic scholarships at Valley.”
“Guess that explains why you didn’t tell me that you were one.” I wave in front of him. All six feet, five inches of him.
Lindsey coughs next to me. She’s biting back a smile. “I’m sorry. My throat’s a little dry. Datson, do you have any water inside?”
“Uhh… yeah.” He glances between us. “Of course. Follow me.”
John takes off inside, and I hang back, holding Lindsey’s arm to give us a little privacy. “What are you doing?”
“You need to talk to him, and it was clear you weren’t going to do that with a crowd around.” She marches inside with a smile that is entirely too pleased with herself.
Fewer people are inside and it’s only me, Lindsey, and John in the kitchen. He grabs a bottle of water and hands it to Lindsey, then holds another one up to me.
“No, thanks.”
“I’m going to use the bathroom,” Lindsey announces.
John doesn’t pick up, or chooses to ignore, how weird my best friend is acting. “The one upstairs is probably less crowded. First door on the left.”
He leans against the counter, smiling at me and still looking me over that same way I did him the entire basketball game.
“Your hair is different. It took me a minute to piece it together. What’s it been? Three years?”
“Little less than that.” I go to push my glasses up on my face before I remember I’m not wearing them. A nervous habit that really doesn’t work so well with contacts.
“This is so crazy. Why haven’t I seen you around before now?”
“I…” I play out a thousand different ways I could answer him. I could play it vague or straight up lie. But the truth is, I’m tired of carrying the weight alone. “I lied to you that night. I wasn’t a Valley student. I was visiting for incoming freshmen orientation. My friend Lindsey and me.” I nod in the direction Lindsey went. “Sorry.”
Even years later my face heats with embarrassment.
“I guess that makes us even for me withholding the whole awesome jock thing.”
A smile tugs at my lips and I laugh off some of the nerves I’m holding. “I’m sorry for that too. I was bitter about not receiving a full-ride scholarship.”
“I looked for a while, asked around, typed in Rylee to the student directory more times than I’m willing to admit.”
“You did?” My pulse quickens at that tiny bit of acknowledgment that our time together meant something to him, too.
“Hell, yeah. That night was awesome.”
“It really was.”
He shakes his head slowly. “I’m bummed that you’ve been here for the past two years and I didn’t bump into you again until tonight. I ask this at the risk of sounding like an arrogant prick, but you never saw me around and thought of saying hey?”
My palms start to sweat, and my throat goes dry. “I didn’t end up coming to Valley until this year, and until tonight, I assumed that you’d already graduated. Like you, I looked around. There are a lot of Johns at this school.”
He steps forward and extends his hand. “John Datson. D-a-t-s-o-n. Easy to find now that you know my full-name name and where I live.”
I slip my hand into his. Warm, calloused fingers squeeze mine and heat travels up my arm. “You live here?”
“Yeah.”
Dread tosses icy water over my head as I try to picture what his life looks like day-to-day and how I’m about to upend it. Or, I guess maybe not, but I’m really hoping he’s not that kind of guy.
“Where’d you go instead, or did you just hold off and do something cool like travel Europe for writing inspiration?”
“You remembe
red?”
“Yeah of course. I remember everything from that night. God, we talked for hours. My throat was sore the next day from talking so much.”
The honesty and charm in his version of the story and the flicker of desire in his gaze shifts something in the air between us. It’s a reminder of how easy and fun it was between us, but also an opportunity that I know I need to take advantage of before we skip too far down memory lane.
“I did go to college, sort of. I had a baby, so I took classes at a community college part-time for the first two years.”
There’s a slight change in his expression. It lasts only a fraction of a second, but I recognize it as disappointment. I’ve gotten this same look from other guys my age when they find out I have a kid. I used to get super offended, but I know it isn’t personal. Most guys my age aren’t ready for all of that, and honestly, it’s better to know right away.
“Wow,” he says. I can tell he’s grappling for the right words. I usually let them flounder in this situation, but I desperately don’t want this moment to be any more awkward than it has to be. “Her name is Indie and she’s going to be two in December, and… she’s yours.”
“Mine? Like… mine?” He motions between us.
I can only nod. My voice is frozen in fear waiting for his reaction. While his jaw hangs open, I pull out my phone and swipe to a recent picture of our baby girl. I hold it out to him. He takes it and stares at it silently for a long moment.
The noise of the party around us heightens the craziness of the situation and I feel like the biggest buzzkill ever, until I remember the party ended for me several years ago. Crazy or not, it’s a weight off my shoulders to have found him and told him about Indie. He can be a part of our lives or not, but now I’ve put it on him.
“Look, I know this is a lot and I’m sure you have a million questions, but yes, I’m sure she’s yours. Just want to get that out of the way. If you still want a paternity test, we can do that,” I ramble on.