Jump Shot

by Sierra Hill

  Because I know little of his mother’s death, his guilt over it baffles me. Yet he won’t disclose anything more about it or why he feels that way. And now that I’ve witnessed the interaction between he and his father, I know there’s so much more to the story of Lance Britton than I’m currently privy to.

  And even when I’ve casually brought it up when I’ve been alone with Cade and Ainsley, either they are protecting Lance’s story or they honestly don’t know any more than I do.

  Whatever the case, things have been great between us. We see each other as much as possible and we spend at least three to four nights together a week. I know that will all change once the basketball season begins, so I cherish it for now.

  His new roommates moved into his apartment back in August and when I’m not with Lance, he’s with Javin and Trent, who are his teammates this year. One is a freshman and the other a junior. I’ve met them a few times, but didn’t spend much time with them. They seem like nice and decent guys but are both slobs. Not like Lance is much better.

  Regardless of his new roommate situation, I know he misses Cade and Carver and feels the acute loss of what they had together. Before the NBA season kicked off, Carver and his girlfriend, Logan, came down to Phoenix for a visit. I knew Carver to some extent because I attended some of the same parties he was at last spring when I was with Ainsley, but it was great to get to know them both.

  In fact, one night during their visit, we were all hanging out by the firepit behind Cade and Ainsley’s house. It was the two of them, me and Lance, Carver and Logan and Van and Kylah. The guys were sharing stories of their exploits and scuff ups while in college, making us laugh at all the stupid juvenile delinquent boy things they did together.

  “Do you remember that time during our sophomore year when Carver nearly broke his arm when he tried jumping out of a two-story dorm window?” Cade pointedly asked the crew.

  Logan peered at Carver under her lashes, giving him a look that most all of us girls recognize as a “WTF” were you thinking look.

  Carver chuckled loudly, unashamed by his behavior.

  “That wasn’t as bad as running naked across campus and then getting busted by the security guards for indecent exposure.”

  Everyone laughed, and the conversation continued, but I noticed Lance got quieter as the evening went on which was highly unusual. Normally, the more Lance drinks, the more boisterous and chatty he becomes.

  When I asked him about it later that night when were in bed, his arms wrapped around me like he was my own personal blanket, he brushed it off. Said he was just happy that he got to spend time with his friends.

  But I knew something was going on. For a week after, he just seemed down. Although he always wore that outer smile, I just sensed that he felt misplaced. Not alone, but lonely, even when he was with me. And it broke my heart to see him that way.

  Yet things are still great with us. He’s the most devoted boyfriend I could have ever hoped for. He seems to be doing well in school and is eager to graduate in the spring. He hasn’t talked about what he wants to do from there, though. It’s as if he’s blocked out that aspect of his future and life.

  Which is fine, because not many matriculated college graduates really know what they want to do for careers upon graduation. If they’re lucky, they find a job that can lead to other jobs down the line. I’m not worried about Lance, but something in my gut feels off about him sometimes.

  This intuitive vision – thanks to my abuelita, who is always going on about seeing my future – tells me that things with Lance won’t be easy. There’s a storm brewing and I am going to get caught in the epicenter.

  Shaking off my worry, I smile when I walk out of class and find him leaning against the brick wall, looking sexy and confident, staring down at his phone. He doesn’t see me as I walk toward him because I’m behind a beefy football player named Jonathan “Corn” Duffus.

  I sneak up behind Lance, adjusting my bag around my shoulder, but before I encircle my arms around his waist, I catch a glimpse of the text on his phone.

  It’s from Dodi, the guy I met at the bar the night of Alex’s going away party. The guy that gave me the heebie-jeebies. It says: Got what you need.

  My brow furrows, because it’s just an odd text. Lance’s thumbs fly with a quick response, which I don’t see because I’ve taken a short step back from him.

  A million questions run through my mind, but I don’t know if I should ask them. Maybe I completely misread Dodi and disliked him without giving him much more than a cursory glance. Maybe I was projecting my own uneasiness that night into the way I caught him staring at me a few times.

  Whatever the case, I decide I’ll bring it up casually, just as Lance turns around to see me standing behind him.

  “Hey baby. I didn’t know you were there,” he says with a smile, slipping his phone in his back pocket and picking me up like I weigh nothing. “God I’ve missed you.”

  He kisses me solidly on the lips and my toes tingle from the perfect way his mouth fits to mine. I giggle a little and sling my arms around his neck as he continues to pepper kisses all over my face.

  “It’s only been a day since I last saw you.”

  He growls into my ear, “That’s one day too long for me.”

  Setting me down on my feet, he takes my bag from my shoulder and hoists it up on his, lacing his fingers through mine as we casually stroll down the hall of the building. Other students and faculty filter through the corridor, some giving us smiles and glances, others nodding their heads at Lance because they know who he is.

  In fact, his face is plastered on huge banners, along with his other teammates, littering the exterior building facades in preparation for the basketball season to start. The excitement for this year’s potential is palpable, and although we’re cocooned and sheltered on school grounds from the general public, I’ve seen and read articles online about Lance and his team.

  Just recently I mentioned to Lance that I saw something related to his heroics this summer when he saved Alvaro. He laughed and shrugged it off as if it meant nothing, but added, “At least they picked up on something virtuous. Good thing they didn’t dig deeper.”

  At the time I thought it was such an odd comment because I couldn’t possibly understand what dirt they would find on him. He’s the perfect boyfriend, student and ball player.

  Unless he’s hiding something from me.

  I shake it off, but the general uneasiness remains.

  21

  Lance

  “I’m surprised to see you here. Aren’t you heading to the gym for a scrimmage today?”

  We walk together, our hands entwined around each other and I swallow down the lump in my throat. I came to tell her something that I feel guilty about, but I can’t get out of it.

  I lie with ease, without a stutter or a blink of an eye. “Oh, yeah. I’m gonna workout with some of the guys and maybe play some ball. So, I probably won’t be coming over tonight. We’ll see, but it might be late.”

  I glance at her from the side, gauging her expression and reaction. We were scheduled to study tonight and then, well, you get the gist. I’ve been staying at her place as much as possible recently, ever since we started getting serious.

  She’s good at refraining from complaining or voicing her displeasure, unlike a lot of girls who whine about anything and everything. That’s what I love about Mica. She’s just naturally easy-going. She doesn’t get jealous. She’s understanding and good-natured.

  But I can tell she’s disappointed about tonight, and that’s what I feel guilty about. I’ve lied to her about the reason and where I’m going. And it makes me a douchebag.

  Since we’ve been together that last three months, Mica hasn’t pressured me for more than I can give her, which makes me feel both glad and guilty as fuck. Because a girl like Mica should be swept up and claimed. She is one hundred percent girlfriend material. And I’m just a loser boyfriend who can’t commit to anything but a good fuck
.

  I’ve tried really hard to be what she needs me to be. I’ve doted on her, shown her PDA, taken her out, made her feel good, complimented her – because she’s hot as fuck and that’s easy to do. But I haven’t told her the truth. About anything.

  About how much I love her. I would tell her if my head wasn’t so fucked up.

  Lying to her makes me feel lower than shit. But what am I supposed to tell her? “Oh, hey, by the way. Instead of coming over tonight to be with you, I’m gonna go get my fix from my dealer.”

  Yeah, that’s not exactly something you’d want to tell your girlfriend, the one who is out of your league to begin with.

  Since this summer, my life has been spinning out of control. I just can’t deal anymore.

  I’m messed up in the head. Unbalanced. On shaky ground.

  Everything is piling up and the stress of the coming season only makes it worse. The only thing that makes me feel better about myself is when I’m drunk or high.

  I tell myself that it’s not become a habit. I don’t use every day…well, mostly.

  The problem is, I ran out of the pills I had stashed in my drawer. So, when that happened, knowing I couldn’t get a refill from the doctor that prescribed them, I called on the one guy I knew could take care of me. I hit up Dodi. The drug dealer from my old crew. He’d always had weed when we were in high school, but now sells anything you could possibly want.

  I’d only been using to level me out– especially after the incident with Mica’s nephew and the run-in with my dad. And then, after spending time with Carver when he was in town, instead of making me feel better about things, it sent me into a tailspin.

  Compared to Carver and Cade, I’m just a loser fuck-up. They are an NBA star and a brilliant engineer. And what am I?

  I’m a fifth-year senior with no plans for the future.

  My dad is right. I am worthless.

  And to make matters worse, Mica says all the right things to me, but has yet to formally introduce me to her family, which tells me that she believes I’m not good enough for her, either.

  In fact, as far as I know, her family still thinks she’s headed down the aisle with Alberto.

  Mica squeezes my hand and stops walking to look up at me. The disappointment is written all over her face, but she gives me a genuine smile.

  “Okay, that’s all right, I understand. I suppose I should really spend some time over at my parents’ house. I haven’t been around them much lately and they invited me to dinner tonight.”

  The perfect opening to see how she truly feels about introducing me to her family.

  “Well in that case, I’d love to come with you if I can finish up early.”

  She averts her eyes and then she looks down at the ground sheepishly.

  “Oh, well…it’s nothing special tonight. I was just going to pop in and say hi. There’s no need for you to come with me. You go ahead with your plans.”

  Just as I thought…she’s ashamed of me. Doesn’t want me to meet her family. Doesn’t want to step out over the line and rock the boat for a guy like me.

  I walk her to her parked car – the one she finally got back from her brother – and she opens up the door where I deposit her book bag on the seat.

  Then I place a kiss on the top of her head, lingering for a bit as I feel weight of the lies between us crushing my soul. Turning me into a man I hate.

  Lies seem to have embedded themselves into the fabric of our relationship like woven threads. Entangled and entwined until you can’t even see the single strands that make up the entire form.

  Mica’s lying to her family about me.

  She’s lying to me about why she doesn’t want to introduce me as her boyfriend.

  I’m lying to her about why I can’t be with her tonight and who I’m going to see. Where I’ve been spending the majority of my time.

  And I’m lying to everyone about who I really am.

  Taking a step back, I kiss her one more time and bop her nose with my pointer finger.

  “I’ll call you later, beautiful.”

  She opens her mouth to say something but hesitates, instead painting a smile on to placate me, even if not a real one.

  “Okay, call me later if you decide to come over. I’ll be waiting. Have fun tonight.”

  She gets in the driver’s seat, rolls down the window and turns the car on. It’s like an oven, even though it’s mid-October.

  “Lance,” she says flatly, the sound of her voice small and soft. “Is everything okay?”

  I put on my most convincing smile, leaning down through her open window to look at her straight in the eye as I lie.

  “Of course, it is, Georgie. I’ve got everything I want in the world right now. And that’s you.”

  While that statement in and of itself isn’t a lie, I know the truth about having everything. It’s that it can all be lost in a moment and you can lose your grasp on the most important things if you’re not careful.

  I need to be extra careful going forward. No missteps or errors. Toe the line so no one gets hurt.

  22

  Mica

  Something is wrong with him.

  Terribly wrong, but I can’t quite pinpoint it.

  I can’t put my finger on the source of my discomfort because he said and did everything that a good boyfriend would do.

  Yet it’s there, lurking in the shadows and underneath the façade that he wears like a cloak. Hiding his vulnerabilities with smiles and laughter.

  Maybe he’s cheating on me? It’s a possibility, I suppose, but I don’t think he’s that kind of guy. In fact, Lance is normally direct, so if he had lost interest in me, he’d just come out and tell me he wanted to break up.

  My thoughts are a jumbled mess and eating away at my emotions as I sit down at my parents’ kitchen table. I’ve enjoyed the last hour spending time with my mom, making her chili verde recipe together. It’s a comforting task to focus my energies on chopping and dicing, helping to quiet the worries that swirl in my head like a Maytag wash machine.

  We worked in relative silence, my mother interjecting the quiet between us every so often with casual conversation about school, work and my family. Now that we’ve finished eating, my mother finally brings up the topic I’ve tried desperately to avoid and dread.

  “Have you spoken to Alberto recently, mija?”

  I repress a groan and shake my head instead. “No, I’ve been busy.”

  This is true, although he’s calls me at least twice a week, eager to schedule time to see me. I don’t like deceiving my family or stringing Alberto along, but I don’t know what else to do at this point. Telling them all that I’m dating Lance is close to telling them I’ve robbed a bank. It would be a serious crime in their eyes.

  After the way my mother and Therese spoke to Lance, and about him, after Alvaro’s hospital visit, they would have a hard time ever accepting that I’m in love with him. He was touted as a hero in the papers and news and by all the bystanders around. But my family doesn’t care about that. They see him as the reason it happened in the first place.

  My mother can hold a grudge for a lifetime if she wants. Therese just about as long.

  I’ve fought for my right to live my life in my own terms, yet I’m scared to tell them about Lance and our relationship. Instead, I’ve been living a lie this past year making them believe I still plan on marrying Alberto someday. And the lie continues to surface and make waves every time I’m home. Like now.

  My mother gives that scoffing sound – a harrumph of disdain – when she makes her next statement.

  “That gringo boy is no good for you. I can see it.”

  My head snaps to her as she lifts her chin in my direction. She’s daring me to defy her. To argue the point. And I will to some degree. Because she knows nothing about Lance or who he is or how he treats me.

  “Lance is good, mamá, and he treats me very well. He is a very kind boy and…maybe just a little misunderstood. He’s had it hard. He do
esn’t have the same kind of family that I do. Even though my family meddles in my love life.”

  My mother’s weathered and dry hand lands on top of mine, and it’s soft and warm. The warmth only a mother can provide.

  “You are strong and smart, mija. Independent. But we want to see you with a stable man. One who will provide for you in the future. This Lance…he is not marriage material.”

  My voice is petulant. “One like Alberto, you mean? Because he’s so stable?”

  “Exactly. He is part of the familia. One of us. Not an outsider. Someone that would not hurt you.”

  I wish I could make her understand. Prove to her how Lance will be there for me and he could fit in, too, if they gave him the chance.

  “Mamá, I don’t feel the same way about Alberto that I do for Lance. Alberto is…I don’t know, like a brother to me. When he kissed me,” I say, feeling the blush heat up my face. “I didn’t feel any spark.”

  “Strong relationships are not always about spark and flames. Because those things die out. Real love grows over time. Strengthens like vines because of the environment in which it grows.”

  I’m not even sure where my mom is coming up with this stuff, because I know for a fact that she and my dad met when she was sixteen and he eighteen and it was love at first sight. They fell head over heels and eloped without my grandmother’s blessing. And back in the day, that was a really big deal.

  “Maybe. It’s just that I feel something so strong, right here,” I admit, clutching my fist at my heart to demonstrate. “It won’t go away. I denied it for a very long time. I tried to stay away from him, but in the end, it was inevitable. It would mean so much for me if you could accept him. Accept that I don’t want to be with Alberto, not now nor anytime in the future. I think Lance is where my future lies.”

  Her tight smile and nod of her head before she stands and walks away is probably the closest I will get to an actual agreement.