by Vera Hollins
I closed my eyes under the onslaught of the gruesome images. I was finally able to understand him better. Whatever he’d gone through before and after that day didn’t justify his ruthlessness, but it explained all that endless anger and hate.
With another blood-chilling cry, he swung the ball at the basket and supported himself against his knees, panting and covered in sweat.
The ball hit the backboard and bounced off the floor in my direction. It kept rolling until it stopped close to me, but Blake didn’t turn around to get it. Instead, he stayed in the same position.
I’d found him alone on the basketball court enough times to know it was his way of getting rid of whatever was troubling him, and after seeing that video, I could only imagine the extent of his pain. Basketball was his outlet, allowing him to pour out his pent-up anger and aggression on the court, but it wasn’t enough because he was a walking bomb of tension that could explode at any moment, provoked or unprovoked.
His gaze was now fixed on one spot in front of him, and his eyes had that faraway look that made it seem like he wasn’t here but at some scary place. My instinct told me to help him. But help him with what?
I curled my fingers into a fist as I looked down the hallway that led to my locker. I knew very well I should stay away from him. He’d told me he would leave me alone. I was finally having my freedom. The healthy and logical thing would be to keep my distance from him as much as possible and forget about him. That was the only way I could move on.
So what the hell was I doing now?
I entered the gym and took the ball. He didn’t move an inch; his eyes were still on the same spot on the floor.
“Hey, Blake.” My heart was pounding too hard. He remained motionless, his hands fisted against his knees. “Blake? Blake, do you hear me?”
It took him a few seconds to react. He straightened himself up and turned around, his face taut with pain and fear as he just stared through me, looking out of it. I observed him to try to find out why he would feel fear at all, but I came up with nothing.
I bounced the ball to the basket, fighting to keep my gaze on him. “Are you okay?”
His face took on a guarded expression as his eyes finally focused on me. “What…” He pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes, breathing heavily. “What are you doing?”
I’m trying to help you with your demons because apparently I can’t just walk away when you’re in pain.
“Let’s play one on one.”
He opened his eyes and narrowed them at me, and my face turned red. My proposition sounded ridiculous even to my own ears given our circumstances.
He started taking deep breaths as he rubbed the back of his hand with his other hand, looking way too guarded. “After everything you said on Monday?”
I stopped at the free-throw line before I aimed at the basket, growing more flushed under his hard stare. This was very uncharacteristic of me, but I liked the fact that I hadn’t run away yet. I coughed twice and sniffed.
“I just want to play.”
I shot at the basket and felt the familiar rush at the motion. I knew I was going to miss the shot because the last time I’d played the basketball was with my cousins in my hometown during the last Christmas holidays, but that didn’t douse the excitement. I loved basketball, despite being an average player.
I missed the basket by a few inches, and the ball passed right under it. I needed to put more force into my shot the next time. I went to the ball and picked it up.
“I don’t want to play with you, so pass me the ball and leave.”
In an unusual spurt of courage, I gave him a small smile and looked at him under my half-closed lids. “And if I don’t?”
Distress ebbed away from his face, as if whatever demons holding him prisoner started to disappear. His eyes filled with a completely different emotion as he erased the distance between us in slow steps. He stopped too close to me, and I had to raise my head to maintain our eye contact, unable to breathe.
“Careful, Jessie,” he said quietly. “You don’t get to toy with me.”
I was sure he could hear the maddening pounding of my heart. It was impossible not to notice how hot he looked in his black basketball jersey and shorts. The beads of sweat sliding down his chiseled cheekbones and jaw only added to his appeal.
“I just want to play basketball. Nothing else.”
He cocked his head to the side. “Do you even know how to play?”
With a sweet smile, I dribbled the ball to the basket. I bent my knees and shot, having a hunch that I would make it this time. The ball balanced on the rim before it went through, but at least I didn’t miss. I grinned, feeling smug that I’d proved my point.
“It’s not that hard,” I said as I turned around to face him. My heart fluttered when I met his intense stare. It pierced through me and warmed me in many places. “I often play with my cousins in my hometown.”
“Aren’t you still sick?”
My lips curled into a smile against my will because he sounded like he cared.
“You sound like my dad.” I couldn’t resist the joke. He didn’t find it funny, scowling at me, but this only made my smile bigger.
I jogged to retrieve the ball that had stopped a couple of feet behind us. I shouldn’t have been playing because I still hadn’t recovered completely and had to sing at the festival the following week. If I got sicker, I wouldn’t have enough time to practice for my solo. Yet, I was full of excitement and energy.
I’d suggested Blake play one on one with me. I was going crazy.
But at least he didn’t look as troubled as he had before I got there. Mission accomplished.
I picked up the ball. “Since you’re curious, my nose is still runny and sometimes I feel like I’ll cough my lungs out, thank you for asking. But I’m not crippled, so let’s play.”
His lips twitched. “You think you’re funny?”
I bit into my lower lip, which drew his attention to it. “Maybe.”
He flicked his gaze up to my eyes. “Now this is interesting.”
“What?”
He motioned at me with his hand. “Your confidence. You aren’t a small, scared mouse when you’re speaking to me.”
I was surprised by myself, too. “You’ve changed too. You aren’t acting like a big, scary wolf anymore. Or at least not as much.”
He approached me, and a hint of danger filled the air between us. “You’d be a fool to think like that. I’m as bad as they get.”
I was paralyzed by his intense gaze. I couldn’t look away from him, my heart thumping loudly in my ears.
He moved so fast I didn’t even see it, stealing the ball out of my hands with one hand. He dribbled it to the basket faster than I ever could and dunked, his body twisting in the air agilely.
Just wow. My lips parted as I stared at him in awe. That body and those moves…
“Will you stop ogling at me and play?” he asked, pulling me out of my reverie. “First one to twelve baskets wins.” He passed me the ball so quickly I almost failed to catch it. “Ladies first,” he said in a mocking voice.
“You don’t need to do me favors just because I’m a girl.”
He smirked. “Don’t worry. I won’t even need five seconds to get that ball back.”
“Is that so?” I bounced the ball out of the three-point line and faced the basket. I wasn’t a big fan of challenges and usually backed away from them, but I didn’t want to do that this time. I didn’t want to act like a coward in front of Blake again.
He went into a stance in front of me, blocking me, and I darted to the side. My adrenaline soared despite the protest of my body against the strenuous movement. I couldn’t erase the smile from my face as I dribbled closer to the basket with Blake continuously blocking me. He didn’t try to take the ball away from me, which made me suspect he was going easy on me.
“Didn’t you say you only needed seconds to get the ball back?” I challenged as I got around ten feet away from
the basket.
He didn’t need me to say anything else. He smirked and reached for the ball while it was in mid-air, stealing it way too easily. He spun around and did a jump shot, making a perfect basket.
“Hey! That’s not fair! You’re so much faster than me!”
He smirked and led the ball out of the trey. “So you do want me to do you favors because I’m faster than you? How’s that fair?”
I harumphed. Of course I wasn’t going to use the girl card. I blocked him, but I didn’t have anything on his size or technique. He guarded the ball too well, switching hands and spinning too quickly for me to make a good enough move. He scored another point in another flawless move. I was starting to pant and heave.
“What’s your hometown?” he asked as he moved away.
“Bridgeport.”
He rushed to the side to get nearer to the basket. I tried to grab the ball from him, but he dribbled it between his legs, spun to the side, and raced straight in. He slam-dunked it and hung on the rim. I stared at him. So hot.
“Step up your game,” he told me before passing me the ball, even though he shouldn’t have done that. “It’s three points for me and zero for you.”
I backed away from him and told myself to focus more on the game and less on his chiseled cheekbones and jaw.
“Do you miss it?” he asked as he stopped in front of me in a defensive stance. My gaze slid along the impressive muscles of his raised arms, and I internally grimaced at myself.
“Miss what? My hometown?” I switched hands, but he didn’t even try to steal the ball, never taking his eyes off of me.
“Yes.”
I gaped at him, surprised that he wanted to know that. As a matter of fact, this whole conversation was surprising. We were communicating normally. I was supposed to be cautious around him and refuse to reveal anything about myself, but I also wanted to tell him everything. I wanted to open up to him.
I moved to sidestep him, but he didn’t let me. “Yes and no.”
“Why don’t you miss it?”
Since there was no way for me to get anywhere closer to the basket, I hoped for the best and shot. He could’ve jumped and grabbed the ball, but he didn’t move. He was definitely going easy on me.
I missed, the ball hitting the backboard instead. I coughed a few times. I was exerting myself too much, but I didn’t want to stop.
He let me have the possession of the ball again, but I returned it to him. “Don’t go easy on me,” I told him. “If I score, I want to do it on my own.”
Something resembling respect passed over his face, and he nodded. He bounced the ball slowly as he went to the other side, and I used that as a chance to steal it. I reached for it once, but he backed away. I reached for it again, thwarting his attempt to sidestep me, but then he caught the ball with both hands and spun on his heel to the side.
I blocked him at the last possible moment, planning to smack the ball so he would drop it, but our bodies collided when he turned around and both of us lost our balance. I crashed down on the floor with him falling on top of me as the ball bounced away from us. For a long moment, his body was fully atop mine, the hard ridges of his frame pressing into each inch of me.
“Fuck,” he growled as he brought himself up to his elbows, caging me with his arms. His masculine scent enveloped me, and my heart began its wild tempo.
His eyes drifted across my face, reminding me I wasn’t wearing any makeup. Just great. Without foundation, the imperfections on my face were visible from a mile away, along with my double chin.
But he looked like he couldn’t have cared less about my physical flaws. In fact, he kept looking at me, his gaze turning darker and more intense. My chest grew tight. He didn’t say anything as he studied my face, and I could have sworn his lips got a few inches closer to mine…
He grazed the bridge of my nose with his fingers, looking at it. “You have freckles.”
Blushing, I moved my head to the side. “Yeah. So?”
He didn’t smile, but his eyes got a shade softer. “They’re cute.”
Cute. Blake Jones had just said my freckles were cute. The same freckles I wished I could magically remove.
“I don’t like them,” I blurted out.
He gave me a half-smile. “You should.”
He moved his knee higher between my legs, shifting his weight as he leaned even closer to my lips, and I struggled to breathe, at war with myself. I shouldn’t have been allowing him this. He doesn’t deserve me, he doesn’t deserve me, he doesn’t deserve me—
“Thank you,” he said, voice barely audible.
I snapped my gaze from his lips to his eyes. “For what?”
“You helped me again.”
That one sentence affected me a great deal, and I found it harder to fight against the flurry of my feelings. “What did I do?”
“I was able to deal with the pain more easily because you distracted me.” His breath fanned my lips, and I moved my head to the side, fighting this, refusing to let him kiss me. I knew I shouldn’t let my compassion for him outweigh the bitter truth that I should stay far away from him.
His breath was now on my neck, sliding over it in short, warm puffs…
I closed my eyes and swallowed hard. I could almost feel it. His lips on my neck…
Don’t, I thought, or did I whisper it?
The kiss never came.
He got off me and sat next to me. I stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, my heart thudding in my ears.
“So? Are you going to answer me?” he asked, and I looked at him reluctantly. “Why don’t you miss your hometown?”
I sat up and sighed, looking at my chipped pink nail polish. I didn’t understand why he was interested. He was prodding into my life so he could…what? Satisfy his morbid curiosity? Gather more material he could use against me?
But as I examined his face, I didn’t find anything malicious. Unless I was hopelessly naïve, there was no bad intent behind his question.
“I was bullied there too,” I finally answered. My face warmed as the influx of bad memories hit me. Back then, I hadn’t fit into what some of my peers deemed acceptable or attractive, hence all the body-shaming and laughter on my account.
They thought they were funny. They thought they had the right to make fun of me like I was any less worthy because I had extra weight. Like there wasn’t a person with feelings beneath that outer appearance. Like all that mattered was that you were considered beautiful on the outside. So they mocked me and laughed at me, making me feel like I didn’t belong anywhere.
“Who would’ve thought?” I said when he remained silent.
“Why were you bullied?”
I let out a chuckle of disbelief. He, of all people, should have known the answer to that. “You tell me.” I stood up. “You’re the one who labeled me as fat the day I got here.”
He frowned and jumped to his feet. “I didn’t actually mean it.”
My eyes rounded. “Come again?”
He went to take the ball, avoiding my gaze. “When I first saw you in the school cafeteria, I didn’t think you were fat.” He began bouncing the ball. “You weren’t skinny and you had curves, yes, but that didn’t stop me from checking you out.”
I scowled at him. “Let me get this straight—you didn’t think I was fat that day in the cafeteria.”
“Right.”
“You thought…” I had to brazen it out and ask the question I was burning to ask. “You thought I was attractive?”
He glanced away, tilting his head down. “Yes.”
My stomach did a few flips, betraying my anger. I ignored it.
“But you told me I was so fat.”
He bounced the ball harder. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I guessed it could be your weak point. So I used it against you.”
“You used it against me because, for some reason, you disliked me from the moment you saw me.”
He stopped bouncing the
ball and finally looked back at me. “Exactly.”
I clamped my hand against my mouth. I didn’t know what was worse, Blake thinking I was fat and fat-shaming me because of that or the actual truth—that he didn’t find me fat but fat-shamed me because he wanted to use my weakness against me.
“And why did you dislike me?”
He remained silent as he began to bounce the ball again, and each bounce brought more tension and anger that spread fast and owned more of me. So that was another question he was going to refuse me an answer to.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done? I already have a bad enough image of myself, but you had to make it worse?!”
He dropped the ball and ran his hand down his face. “I already told you I realized how wrong it was. Something has changed in me these last few days. I’m not that same guy who didn’t care about how much you’re hurt. If I could take those words back now, I would.”
I shook my head. My chest hurt with raw pain that had resided in it for so long. “If you only knew…if you only knew how deep each of your insults cut. If you only knew how much I hated myself.” I sniffed and turned my back to him. “You broke me,” I whispered.
He didn’t say anything for quite a long time, and I was starting to think he wasn’t going to at all.
But then he said, “If you’d told me this back then, I probably wouldn’t have even cared. But now…now, it hurts. It hurts me that I caused you so much pain. It hurts me to know I messed you up so bad and I’ll never be able to take everything back.”
I closed my eyes, telling myself not to get swayed by the regret and guilt I could hear in his tone. A few soft words couldn’t replace the horrors of his actions—or so I kept trying to convince my heart.
“But there’s something I don’t understand,” he continued. “Why haven’t you ever fought back? Why do you let people walk all over you?”
I snapped my eyes open and swiveled around. “Excuse me?”
“Why do you let people abuse you?”