Cuba
Jackson,
If only you could see me losing my shit over a girl, did I mention I haven’t even had sex with her? We just kiss and I’m already possessive. I was ready to knock the teeth out of some delivery guy yesterday because of the way he looked at her. I swear I can hear you laughing at me, J. I have no idea what to do here. I want to push her away, I want her close. She told me I’m giving her whiplash and there isn’t a word for what she’s giving me except blue balls. Sure, I know there are a bunch of females willing to drop their panties for me, but I only want hers. Maybe it’s the chase, maybe it’s more. Who knows?
Anyway, Cam keeps trying to talk me into coming back on the team, he’s even recruited Ash and J.R. to his cause. I don’t know man, I just can’t see it without you. I miss the game, but the game reminds me of you, and I just can’t. That’s something I’m still working on.
-C
Oliver studies me behind his black-framed glasses. He says he sees a change in me, I insist I have no idea what he is talking about, and I don’t. Nothing has changed, except my pretty tutor and my attraction for her.
“So, how was your weekend?” he starts. “Did you go out?”
I forgot I told him about Cam’s invite to Dixie’s. “It was cool, and yes, I did meet up with some friends.”
He smiles as he nods his head and writes something down on his little note pad. I wonder if they know how much it frustrates their clients to see someone write shit down on a pad then not say what they wrote. So, now I’m going to spend all day wondering what the fuck he wrote about me, and hope I don’t mess up with Bliss because, I can’t focus. Or maybe I need to move my sessions to the days I don’t see Oliver, that would be better.
“How was that?”
I give him my usual shrug. “It was okay, we just played a few games of pool, and that was it.”
He nods and jots something down. “And how is the tutoring?”
I shift, suddenly uncomfortable, will he jot down this movement too?
“It’s fine.”
“Just fine?” he pushes, sitting forward.
My jaw ticks, he wants me to talk to him about Bliss but how does he even know?
“Your body language gives it away. You might say it’s fine, but your body says it’s anything but.” It’s like he read my mind, and I hate when he does that.
We stare at each other for what seems like forever, we always do this, and he always wins. My parents pay him the big bucks to help ‘fix’ me, and he knows what he’s doing because he gets me to talk every time.
“I kissed her, Friday, twice.” There. Now he can analyze and write little notes with all his theories.
His eyes widen in surprise and he doesn’t hide it. “Twice? In a session?”
I shake my head. “Once at the end of the session and then again after I gave her a ride home from the bar.”
“You were at a bar?” Of course, he would hear that.
“I didn’t drink,” I grit out. “I’m not an alcoholic, I can control myself.”
Oliver frowns. “That’s not what I was thinking, we know you aren’t an addict or an alcoholic, that’s why you are no longer in rehab.”
My stomach twists at the hazy memories of my time in the rehab in Malibu, I can’t go back there.
“Back to your tutor,” he says gently. “What is her name?”
“Bliss.” I shift again.
He nods and again jots down her name probably. “Want to tell me about Bliss?”
Not really.
I shift again. “Um, she’s, uh…” I can’t even get the words out, how do I even describe her?
“She must be something,” he muses as he writes something down. “Let’s start with what draws you to her?”
Thinking to the first session, I smile. “She has a smart mouth and she has no problem calling me out. She’s gorgeous and crazy smart, she is like a walking history book, it’s crazy.”
Oliver’s smile grows, making me cough, clearing my throat, and shrug. “I mean, she’s cool.”
He doesn’t call me out over my small gush session like a little bitch, which I’m not.
“So, you two kissed and how did that make you feel?”
I squint my eyes. “It felt like a kiss, what the hell?”
His lips twitch. “Was there any emotion?” he asks. “Do you want to date her?”
“We both know I’m in no position to date anyone, especially not Bliss.” I dismiss the idea. There is no point in making a big deal out of it.
“And do you think that because of Jackson?” he asks. “Are you wary of letting someone close to you?”
Wary? What the fuck?
Is it because of Jackson? Is he the reason for my hot and coldness? Or the reason why I won’t even entertain the idea of a relationship? Sure, he’s the reason I can’t or won’t return to the court, but could he be the reason why I keep Bliss at arm’s length?
“I don’t understand what you’re saying,” I admit.
Oliver nods. “What I’m saying is that maybe you’re afraid of liking Bliss too much, getting used to her. Dating would make you starting having feelings, you’ll maybe fall in love, and I feel that scares you, letting someone in, getting attached.”
He continues before I can say anything, “Jackson was your closest friend, almost like a brother. He was the only one you let in, now he’s not here. You have a beautiful girl that you think is amazing, but you won’t allow yourself to date her, why?”
I shift in my seat. “I’m not ready to let her in, I can’t.”
“And why do you think that is, Cuba?” he asks gently.
I shrug. “I don’t know.”
“You’re scared to let anyone in because what if you lose them too?”
I push up to my feet quickly, Oliver jumps back from the movement, “I think we’re done for today,” I snap.
I knew this would come up, we have been talking about small light topics for the last two months. I knew he would start asking, start to analyze how Jackson’s death is affecting me, my life, and why did I do what I did that night. I knew, I fucking knew it would come up, and I’m not ready. I don’t want to see how far I fell, I don’t want to see who I am now, barely keeping it together, barely getting my life back. I must look like I’m okay to everyone around except for two people. Bliss and Oliver, and only one knows the truth while the other is biding her time. She wants to know what happened to me, and where I went. But if I tell her, will she still look at me the same, would she still want me around? I highly doubt it. I’m a fucking emotional basket case.
Oliver stands too. “I’ll see you next time.”
I don’t reply as I turn and leave. If there is a next time, fuck, I know there will be. No matter how much I hate this at times, I can’t skip a damn session, we both know it.
So, I flip him off before the door shuts behind me.
I’m making my appointment with Sadie, Oliver’s secretary, when my phone vibrates in my pocket and I slide it out.
Hmm.
Arrow: Someone stole our room so meet me at the basketball court. You know that big slab of wood you used to play on?
What the fuck? The court?
Me: Why there? Just come to my place.
Is she still pissed about me showing up yesterday? So, what, I saw her in her cute little boy shorts, and maybe scared the pizza guy, he shouldn’t have been looking at her like that.
Arrow: You can’t be trusted. Come on.
I can be trusted.
Sadie hands me my appointment card and I thank her before walking out of the office and into the parking lot. Why the hell would she pick that place out of all the places in LA? I don’t even feel like going back and forth with her on the phone, I’ll just have to go there and drag her pretty ass out of there.
I’m already irritated by the time I reach the entrance to the stadium. Parking was a bitch today and it reminds me that the semester is close to starting up. No one spotted me, thankfully, and I know the court is empty since the team doesn’t start meeting for a few weeks. How did she pull this off anyway?
The door closes behind me, the sound of its latching echoing off the walls on the terminal, the smell of freshly polished wood floors and rubber fill my nose and the memories of Jackson hit me like every other time I’m here. After my session with Oliver, the last place I want to be is on this court, but here I am because she’s here, and even though being here is making me anxious right now, the thought of her keeps me a little balanced, and that shit scares me.
I’m still annoyed at the change of location.
She doesn’t know, I keep reminding myself.
I stop short when I see her… every time I see her, I swear she gets prettier, not even sure if that’s possible. Bliss is makeup free, like I like her, her long hair is tied up in a ponytail that swings across her back. My eyes travel down to her black sports bra that’s holding up her perfect tits, down her tanned flat stomach to where little pink shorts fit snug around her hips and ass. Fuck me, my dick wants to say hello. I readjust myself before I make my presence known.
“Where are the rest of your clothes or do you just like to wear less when I’m around.” I turn my hat backwards and smile as I walk up her.
Stormy eyes narrow at me. “They are called work-out clothes, asshole.”
I’m getting tired of her calling me an asshole.
“And what exactly have you been working out?” I lift an eyebrow looking down at her.
“Are you trying to call me fat?” She lifts her own brow, and places a hand on her hip.
“Never.”
She rolls her pretty eyes. “Where are your books?”
“In the car, wasn't sure they would be needed for this lesson.” I nod toward the basketball at her feet. “What's that for?”
Bliss bends over to pick up the ball, and I try not to stare at her ass again, but it's a nice ass.
“We're going to play a game.” She smiles proudly. “The best way to learn something is to connect it with something you like.”
Except I don't like to be here, but I can't tell her that because she'll want to know why, and I can't tell her that without her asking me questions, plus, she looks proud of herself, and I can't burst her bubble.
I nod. “Okay,” I say slowly. “And what game is this, exactly”?
She squints adorably. “It's like horse?” She doesn't sound too sure, and I want to laugh.
“Do you know anything about basketball, Arrow?” I rock back on my heels.
Bliss frowns. “Um yeah. The objective of the game is to shoot the ball in the net.”
My lips twitch. “Yeah, that's the textbook version, but do you even watch the game?”
She exhales loudly. “Well, no. It can't be that hard to get this in a hole.” She lifts the ball up.
“Yeah, that's what she said.” Did I just make a joke?
Bliss’s eyes widen in surprise and she laughs, “You're such a guy.”
“Last time I checked. So, go ahead, let's see your best shot.” I nod toward the hoop. “Can’t be that hard.”
Bliss makes a face and walks to the three-point line.
“Might want to move a little closer.”
She shoots me a dirty look but takes a few steps forward. Bending her knees, I watch as she uses both hands to swing the ball between her legs and releases it on the way up. Of course, the ball barely touches the net and hits the padded wall. Bliss stands there, both hands on her hip as her tiny foot taps rapidly against the wood floor. It's as if she's waiting for the ball to come back and explain itself.
Looking back at me, embarrassment is all over her bright red face. “Don't say anything,” she warns.
Holding my hands up in surrender, I give her a small smile. “I wasn't.” I drop my hands and head over to the ball, picking it up, and tossing it between my hands. “Go to the free throw line.”
Bliss looks around and back to me. Shit, this is too funny.
I grab her hand and pull her over a few steps to the line. “This is the free throw line, you were trying to shoot from the three-point line, and baby, you aren't Steph Curry.”
She gives me a look, but it's gone the next second, so I don't think much of it. She's always giving me funny looks, I'm not sure she's even aware she does it sometimes.
“Here.” I toss her the ball and she catches it, barely.
Coming up behind her, I place my hands on her hips. “Open your legs, Arrow.”
I feel her shaking beneath my touch. “Um,” she squeaks out.
“Um isn't an answer,” I toss back at her. “Now open your legs.”
Bliss tilts her head to look back at me. “I usually get a meal before this part.”
“Yeah? Well if you do good, I might feed you after.”
She smiles. “If I do, can we take a rain check? I already have a dinner date tonight.”
My jaw tightens, and my teeth press together but I ignore her. “Your feet need to be shoulder length apart.” Sliding my hand over the curve of her ass, I hear her breath hitch as my hand slides between her legs over her smooth skin. “I said open.”
Bliss does as I say, her legs spreading, and she places her feet the right length apart.
My hand goes back to its place on her hip. “Now stagger your feet, your right should be a little above the left since your right hand that hand is your shooting hand.”
Again, she listens. “And now?” Her eyes flick to mine and she bites her bottom lip. I don’t even think she knows how sexy she is.
I have to look away. “Now lift your arms like this.” I lift mine, so she can see. “You’re shooting with your right and your left hand is going to guide it, make sense?” I’ve never actually tried to teach someone how to shoot a ball before.
“Yeah.” Bliss nods and copies my stance. I take a step back, already missing the smell and feel of her.
“All right, eye your line of sight with the hoop, got that?” I watch her squint her eyes and I want to laugh but I don’t.
“Yeah.”
“Good, now, don’t jump too much, but just enough that you’re about a few inches off the ground. Then you’re going to want to flick your right wrist, but make sure it’s not too much that you’re throwing the ball down instead of up.”
Bringing the ball down, she spins to look at me. “Okay, I’m going to need to see you first, that just went over my head.”
Taking my stance, I pretend to shoot an invisible basketball, making sure to pause at the way my wrist bends back then forward. “See not too much, just a little flick of the wrist.”
Her grey eyes brighten, and a smile pulls at her lips. “Got it.” She turns back to the hoop, looking down at her feet to make sure they are right before bending her knees and lifting her arms up. “Okay, here goes nothing.”
She jumps and shoots like I showed her, we both watch the ball fly through the air and hit the backboard, the ball bounces once and goes through the net.
Bliss jumps up and down then runs to me throwing herself at me, her arms wrap around my neck, bare legs around my waist. My hands immediately grab her ass, so she doesn’t fall.
“Oh my gosh, did you see!” She smiles in my face and fuck me if this doesn’t do something to my heart. My heart? Oh no.
“Yeah, Arrow.” I smile back.
Her eyes go to my lips and back to my eyes. “Thank you for showing me and not laughing.”
She leans forward, her breasts pressed against my chest and her scent of lavender invades my senses. Bliss’s lips press against mine and I happily suck her bottom lip into my mouth, tasting her, she tastes just like her name, fucking bliss.
The kiss is light, nothing like the last two times, it’s more of a deep peck. She lets me go, sliding down my body, still smiling up at me.
“Let’s do it again!” She turns around and gets the ball. I watch her, my smile still on my face.
For the next fifteen minutes, I watch Bliss take shot after shot, she makes some, misses some, some of them don’t even touch the net or backboard but she doesn’t care. She laughs, then shrugs and runs after the ball. I’m enjoying every minute, I’m pretty sure she forgot all about our session and the game we were supposed to be playing. Not that I mind, I’d rather watch her run around in those little shorts and the way her ass bounces when she jumps for a shot is not a bad way to spend part of my day, but my dick begs to differ.
“How about you show me some of your moves.” Bliss bounces up to me, holding out the ball. She’s breathless and turning red. “I may be a little out of shape,” she adds, tugging a strand of loose hair behind her ear.
“You just want to check me out,” I tease, taking the ball for her.
“Payback.” She sticks her tongue out and grabs a bottle of water out of her bag. “You’re rusty.”
“I was never hiding it.” I start dribbling the ball and wink at her.
Her mouth hangs open but I’m already making my way down the court, crossing the ball between my legs before doing a layup, nothing fancy.
“Dunk!” she shouts, smiling, and clapping her hands. “Come on, Bow.”
Bow? I remember she called me that before.
Dribbling the ball between my legs, I smile back. “What? Like Jordan?”
She shakes her head. “No, like Cuba.”
Like me? I haven’t been me in a long time.
I start to run down the court, my right hand in full control of each bounce of the ball, my legs taking long strides toward the net. It’s a feeling of freedom that I miss on the court, that every problem, thought, just evaporates the moment your hand touches that ball. It doesn’t hurt that there is a hot girl on the sideline clapping for me. Me, not who everyone thinks I am. She’s clapping because she’s just happy to be around me, talk to me, push me, and she doesn’t know my past, she doesn’t know my darkness.
I dribble the ball harder and faster. I come up, pushing to my toes to make the jump, the air sliding through my fingers as my arm comes up behind me, my hand slams the rim pushing the ball through the net. I hold on, swinging from the rim until I drop to the floor on my feet.
I’m breathing heavy, sweat beads start to form on my forehead. Picking the ball up, I turn just to drop it again, Bliss is wrapped around me, my arms wrap around her. This is the second time she’s done this, I’m not complaining, it’s kind of nice. I’ve never had a girl this happy over a little dunk. I mean, I’ve had groupies, but this is different, I want Bliss around me.
“That was amazing, Cuba.” She smiles, before giving me a quick kiss on my lips.
This show affection feels normal… like this is normal. It’s anything but.
“Why did you stop playing?” She slides off me. “You’re so good.”
My smile slips. “Bliss,” I step back.
She looks confused. “What?” She holds her hands up. “You’re good, I just want to understand why you stopped.”
“I thought you would give me time?” I’m getting tired of doing this with her. “I don’t get you Bliss, you say one thing and do another.”
“Because I just want to-“ she starts, but I cut her off.
“Want to know what happened?” I snap. “I told you go ask your little friend, but you say no, you want me to tell you and you’ll wait, but now we’re back to this shit again. You want to know me?” I’m pissed.
Bliss blinks rapidly and I’m praying she does not cry. Her stormy eyes gloss over but they narrow.
“Yes, I want to know you,” she snaps back.
She doesn’t get to be upset.
“Then don’t fucking push me, because then you never fucking will.” My eyes locked with hers before I walk off.
I hear her call after me, but I can’t deal with this. We were having a good time. I really needed that after my session with Oliver, and she had to go and fuck it up.
I snatch my keys and phone off the bench but keep walking, walking the wrong fucking way. Fuck it. This day has already gone to shit why not put the cherry on top I think as I slam into the locker room. The locker room I was last in when Jackson was alive and still playing. The memories hit me a hundred miles per hour. The horse play, the after-game celebrations, everything. I just can’t, everything reminds me of everything I’m not anymore.
I look up to find that I’m sitting in my folding chair in front of my polished wood locker, my name lit up from the back light. Like I’m still here, still apart of the team. Jackson’s locker is still next to mine, his name is still there and part of me is relived it is because I don’t know how I would feel if it wasn’t.
I feel her before I see her.
“I’m sorry,” she says softly, as the door closes behind her. Her footsteps near but I don’t look back, I look forward, still staring at my locker. I want to open it, see if everything is still there. Are Jackson’s things still there?
I’m about to lean forward when Bliss moves in front of me climbing onto my lap and straddles me. Her eyes find mine, and even though I’m upset with her, I feel a little at ease. I don’t have enough brain space left to process how it makes me feel.
“I’m sorry,” she says again, her smooth hand runs down my face and cups my cheek. “Please don’t be mad at me.”
My lip twitches, annoyed, but I just don’t have the energy to still be upset.
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell her. “I was already having a shitty day, and it was getting better but then you asked that. I get that you want to know, I get that you want to get to know me, but baby, let me come to you. I’m trying,” I stress. “Just let me try. I can’t promise or give you any false hope that something will come from this, but I like being around you, let’s just give it to the end of our sessions.” Give me two weeks, just let me be selfish for fourteen more days. That’s all I can give and it’s all I’m willing to take.